"We do what we must" (closed)

[MarieDavisRPs]

"We do what we must"

(closed)
​

The sharp, quick whistle from Emily Engles caused the man slumbering beyond the detention center's invisible security barrier to flinch, then slowly roll on his rack to blink the sleep from his eyes and take in the view. His reaction was nothing new to her; she was a beautiful, sexy thing, and the outfit she wore today only magnified the appearance that Mother Nature and good genes had provided her.

Out here in the deep depths of the space, Emily was simply one of a kind. The ratio of men to women working out here in The Void was perhaps 20 to 1, and that included the women working brothels spread about space station and planetary systems. The ratio of men to attractive women with whom the latter yearned to have sex was probably 10 times that.

Emily Engles was 5'4" before including the four-inch heels she commonly wore, with measurements of 34C-22-36. Her skin was flawless, almost China Doll perfect, with her naturally light brunette hair genetically altered to blonde; she typically wore that nearly waist-length hair balled up on the back of her head, but for special occasions wore it down in any number of fashionable styles. Her eyes were a mesmerizing, deep blue that sparkled in all forms of light, and her smile was one of dental perfection.

But Emily Engles was more than just a beautiful body. She had an IQ of 142; she'd graduated each level of Education years earlier than those her own age and -- even before her 24th birthday (Earth Normal), which was 20 days away from today -- had been awarded two bachelor's degrees and two masters. She could have continued her education with a PhD but instead chose to spend her time living life rather than studying and researching. To her, those pieces of paper were just that and nother more: pieces of paper.

In addition to those degrees, Emily was a master of hand-to-hand combat; she had experience in both competition and two real-world self-defense situations, one of which had resulted in one attacker killed and a second permanently damaged. She was skilled at driving high speed terrestrial vehicles, wheeled and otherwise; she could fly both atmospheric aircraft and spaceborne vessels of varying types; she'd climbed tall mountains, dove deep seas, and braved volcanic eruptions, and much more on more than a dozen planetary bodies.

She was able to accomplish all of this in part due to who she was: the beloved granddaughter of Martin Engles, the CEO and majority stockholder in the Engles-Crighton Consortium. ECC was the largest, most powerful, and most widely dispersed corporation in the Quadrant, with more than 4,000 interstellar spacecraft flying about between its more than 300 planetary locations at any one time.

Emily's intelligence, experience, skills, and courage, combined with the nepotism of her grandfather, allowed her to go just about anywhere and do anything whenever the urge came to her. Today, that urge brought her to the Detention Center of Station Hulur Bravo -- in orbit of the 2nd moon of the planet that bore the name -- to begin her latest adventure. And it all began with the man on the other side of the invisible, deck-to-overhead barrier.

"I've been told that you are in a bit of a spot, Captain," she said as she began a slow, deliberate walk closer to the line on the floor indicating the presence of the security field separating them. "Your ship is in need of repairs, replenishing, and refueling, something for which you cannot pay. And that doesn't even begin to include the docking fees and fines for landing without permits and clearance."

The Detention Center Officer again cautioned Emily about the barrier, a warning she neither needed nor paid heed, stopping just two inches short of it. Without looking to the Officer, she said, "I'd like a moment alone with your detainee, please."

The Officer began, "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss, but..."

He went silent, though, as Emily head turned to give him a hard stare. He knew who she was, of course, and practically bowed to her as he responded before departing, "Of course, Miss."

Once alone with the detainee, Emily smiled again, then finished, "I have a proposition for you. I will pay your fines and fees, get you released from detention, get your ship prepped for travel, and ... pay you 700,000 credits, half now, half later, if you will take me and my cargo to Rostoff IV..."

She paused, lifted a fingertip slowly to her lips, then added, "...and no questions asked."

Emily couldn't know exactly what the man was thinking but assumed it was somewhere between Holy fuck, are you kidding? That's a fortune! or This is too be good to be true, so, what's the catch? Emily had investigated the man, his ship, and his situation; she knew that 700,000 Consortium Credits was fairly close to the current resale value of his decrepit ship, before adding in the cost of the currently needed repairs, the cost of replenishment the ship's stores for the upcoming adventure, and the cost of the overdue parking fees and fines, the latter levied by Hulur Bravo for the ship's numerous violations.

Emily could buy the service of a more professionally acceptable and legitimate captain with a newer, more dependable ship for less than what she was offering this man, of course. But it wasn't just interstellar transport for which Emily was paying; she was paying for discretion. This was something in which she was confident she could get from this man.

"So," she continued, glancing off to the control panel that would drop the field and let him get out, not just out of the cell but out of his predicament, "Do I call the guard back in, or...?"

*********************************​

OOC: I hope you won't let the slavery that is soon mentioned dissuade you from reading our story. The slavery in our story is more akin to voluntary indentured servitude; and there is a twist regarding that voluntary indentured servitude that you won't see coming. Sorry, if I said more, I'd spoil the twist.

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Harmon Davis flinched at the unexpected whistle, then slowly rolled. He blinked to clear his eyes, then sat up quickly in disbelief at what he was seeing. She was incredible.

"I've been told that you are in a bit of a spot, Captain," the goddess began as Harmon stood and ambled toward the line on the floor. She spoke of his financial difficulties, then told the guard, "I'd like a moment alone with your detainee, please."

After the other man was gone, the woman continued, "I have a proposition for you..."

Her offer was incredible, and by incredible, he was thinking without credibility. Harmon couldn't help but smile and shake his head silently. He didn't know what this bullshit offer was about, until she got to the part about the destination, Rostoff IV, and finished, "...and no questions asked."

Harmon knew that the cargo would be slaves, men for the mines and women for the beds of the Freemen who supervised the male slaves. Most people wanted to believe that in this day and age, slavery was only a scary story used to keep naughty children in line. But Harmon knew better.

"So ... Do I call the guard back in, or...?"

"A million Credits," Harmon said firmly. He was confident that even though her offer was large, she would offer more if pressed, mostly because of the whole no questions asked portion. He continued boldly, "And regarding the replenishment, I get to make the grocery list. I have a ... delicate palate."

Harmon let his eyes take a long, slow ogle up and down the woman's body before smirking devilishly and finishing, "I'm quite the chef, which you probably already know if you've seen my personal file." He doubted that the women would have come to him without having seen his file, and even though he didn't know who she was, Harmon had little doubt that she had the ability to ask for and receive a digital copy of his history. He finished, "I'd be more than willing to cook a fine dinner for you, baby."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"A million Credits," Harmon negotiated, adding "And I get to make the grocery list. And regarding the replenishment, I get to make the grocery list. I have a ... delicate palate."

Emily wasn't surprised by Harmon's counteroffer: although she'd offered him more than any other job would ever pay him, possibly in his entire lifetime, Emily did in fact have some wiggle room on the offer, just as Harmon had expected.

When he spoke about making a fine dinner for her, her lips spread in a wide smile. "I accept ... both the increase in credits ... and the offer of a fine meal."

Emily reached to her left ear and removed one of three earrings piercing the lobe. It wasn't the most expensive of the decorations, but it certainly wasn't costume jewelry either. Despite its value, Emily tossed it out before her toward the invisible barrier. The earring nearly disappeared in a powerful, sharp, short flash of energy, the metal portion of it disintegrating while the quarter carat diamond ricocheted away to land and dance across the Center's floor. A loud alarm brought the panicked guard back inside, his gun pulled.

Emily casually waved away any concern, then turned back to the detained man, telling him, "If you ever call me baby again, I won't be looking to replace an earring ... I'll be looking to replace a pilot for your ship."

Emily gave Harmon an opportunity to respond if he wished, backed up, turned, and strode for the center's door. She told the guard, "Your detainee's bail and fines have already been paid. Please let him out."

No sooner had Emily left then two brawny men walked in: they had bodyguard written all over their hard expressions, muscular bodies, and almost identical suits, neither of which was designed to hide the weapons bulges under their armpits.

They were there to escort Harmon back to his ship without getting lost. It was, of course, unnecessary: Harmon needed this job more than Emily needed him to take it. But Emily wanted to impress upon the man how his life would unfold over the days to come.

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Responding to his counteroffer, Emily told Harmon, "I accept ... both the increase in credits ... and the offer of a fine meal."

He smiled wider, thinking he might actually have a chance at bedding this beauty. He'd soon learn that was unlikely. In the meantime, she startled the fuck out of Harmon by tossing an earring into the invisible security shield. The metal parts vaporized in a frightening flash that sent Harmon leaping a step back, exclaiming, "Fuck almighty!"

"Your detainee's bail and fines have already been paid," Emily told the guard as she departed. "Please let him out."

"What the hell?" Harmon called out before laughing. She"d been so confident in his taking the deal that she'd already taken the first steps. He called as she disappeared out the door, "I look forward to working for you, boss!"

He wondered what he'd gotten himself into as the two big men escorted Harmon back to his ship. Once there, he found work crews already deep into repairing damage suffered during his last job; he'd been smuggling goods through a debris field that was unpatrolled by the Consortium's policing ships, and as good a pilot as he was, he'd taken three hits that had destroyed his primary communications dish and breached the hull, causing decompression in several compartments.

The two bodyguards, who Harmon had taken to calling Frick and Frack, took turns watching over Harmon as he worked. He spent most of his time supervising the various repair crews his new employer had hired. He spent some of that time chatting quietly with the only other permanent crew member of the ship, Taylor, who was probably the most skilled mechanic Harmon had ever known. They didn't chat about the ship or the repairs to it but instead about the woman who'd hired him and what Harmon had gotten himself and Taylor into.

The combination of the no questions asked stipulation and the destination had Harmon convinced that he would be transporting slaves. He comforted himself by telling himself that maybe they were only indentured servants, not outright slaves. Many people earned passage to new destinations by contracting themselves out for a period of years. Harmon could only hope that the reality was close to that.

***************************​

Eight days later:

Harmon awoke with a start to a hard, loud rapping sound upon his compartment's door. It opened before he had a chance to say come in, hold on, or fuck off! He rolled toward the entrance, finding Frick staring at him. "Get up, get dressed, and get to the bridge. Miss Engles is aboard and wants to leave ... now!"

Frick departed, leaving Harmon to mumble to himself, "It's about time."

The last of the repairs and delivery of replenishment supplies had been completed three days ago, and Harmon had expected them to depart immediately. And yet, every time he asked for a departure time, either Frick or Frack or both only told him, "Soon." Harmon hadn't seen Emily since the Detention Center, and if it wasn't for the fact that her money continued to be poured into the repairs of the ship, he might have thought she'd changed her mind.

"When's the cargo gonna be loaded?" Harmon asked. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the expected human cargo.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Frick and Frack.

The names of the two bodyguards were Robert and Victor Durrow; they were paternal cousins. Emily had taken to using Harmon's nicknames for them, though, after they'd disappointed her by becoming involved in a deadly encounter at a Hular Bravo spaceport bar. Emily neither knew nor cared which one of the men had done what to whom, but the Authorities had had to address the fight after one man had been left dead and another left crippled.

Emily had reluctantly reached out to her grandfather to fix the situation when she herself hadn't been able to do so. The two men had been given a choice by Emily: go without her and her grandfather's influence and spend the rest of their lives performing hard labor in a mine on some asteroid; or accept her assistance and work at one-third wages until they'd compensated Emily's Grandfather.

Ironically, her grandfather wasn't holding Emily responsible for the Credits he'd expended; he'd transferred the money to her account and simply warned, "Get control of your people, honey." She didn't see any reason to tell Frick and Frank that the Credits would simply stay in her own hands. It was a lesson to be learned as far as she was concerned.

Emily was on the bridge waiting impatiently when Harmon finally arrived. She'd traded in the latex and leather outfit for something a bit softer and less flashy. It was far more comfortable and yet still managed to highlight her wonderful curves like a second skin. She noted the man's up and down viewing of the new-to-him wardrobe and smiled.

"I should probably make something clear to you before we get underway, Mister Davis," Emily said as he entered. "You will never touch me ... ever. I'm sure you've fantasied plenty about how I would out of my clothes and, further, about how it would feel to have your big, throbbing cock wrapped by my tight, young pussy..."

She hesitated just a moment to let her crude description sink in, then continued, "...but you will never see me out of my clothes, let alone fuck me."

She peeked over her shoulder toward Frack, who had remained near her while Frick was off talking to the Dock Master about getting underway; Victor knew what the glance meant, causing him to stiffen to height, looking even more intimidating than normal. Emily looked back to Harmon and -- probably unnecessarily -- clarified, "My boys will tear you limb from limb if ever you lay your hands upon me without permission, direction, and or demand. Do we have an understanding?"

Emily didn't wait for Harmon to respond, instead turning and heading for the Bridge's exit. She informed him of that which he couldn't have known as it had happened in the middle of the night while both he and his man Taylor had been sleeping: "The cargo has been loaded, so we're ready to go. Clear our departure with the Dock Master. I want to be off this rock in ten minutes."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Harmon entered the bridge, finding his new employer waiting with a harsh glare. He looked her up and down, smirking yet again. (He seemed to do that each and every time he saw her, he was realizing.) Her outfit was less dramatic and yet still showed off her womanly features in a way that had Harmon's cock hardening yet again.

She noticed his ogle and very succinctly warned him off regarding his desires to hit that thang. Frack's rising to full height was simply terrifying, even to Harmon who himself was 6'4" and 210 pounds of muscle and brawn.

Emily turned, heading away and surprising Harmon with, "The cargo has been loaded, so we're ready to go. Clear our departure with the Dock Master. I want to be off this rock in ten minutes."

Despite the fear of Frick and Frack tearing him into little pieces, Harmon couldn't help but remind Emily of the stipulation she'd given for him fucking her. He called out to her as she headed away down the passageway, "So, permission, direction, or demand makes it a possibility, though ... right?"

She didn't respond, not that Harmon had expected it. Frick's only reaction was to give him another of his harsh glares before he, too, departed the bridge. Harmon laughed to himself, then activated the radio and called into it, "Taylor! Get this bucket ready to get into the air!"

Harmon cleared their departure with the Dock Master, and 10 minutes later, as instructed, the freighter's vertical takeoff rockets fired, lifting it away from Hulur Bravo. Another 35 minutes later, after having gradually traded vertical lift for forward, horizontal travel, the RAMjet propulsion system had separated enough hydrogen and oxygen for the rockets to shoot them up through and beyond the planet's upper atmosphere.

It would be another two hours before anyone could get up and move about the ship. The high G-force from acceleration to and beyond light speed kept everyone in their seats. Well, everyone who had a seat, that was. Harmon thought about the cargo he wasn't supposed to ask any questions about. Even though he had played no part in preparing that particular cargo bay for them, he had spied on the work just enough to know that thin mattresses and bedding had been provided but not much more than that. There had been a portable shit box, some barrels of water, and several cases of standard rations packs, too. It was enough to keep the cargo alive and healthy but not much more than that, unless there had been more provided to them that Harmon had missed.

Eventually, the ship reached its cruising speed, the G-forces diminishing to zero. Movement around the ship was now safely possibly. Of course, there was no gravity, so... Harmon announced, "Activating arti-grav' now, people." He tapped some controls, and over the next few seconds, the Zero G was slowly replaced by .8 G's. Playfully, Harmon announced his version of a 20th century airliner notices for passengers, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain announcing that it is now safe to roam about the cabin. We are at cruising speed. Next stop, Rostoff IV."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"So, permission, direction, or demand is still a possibility, though," the pilot called as his employer headed aft from the bridge.

Emily couldn't help but smile at the man's pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinking. Actually, to be totally honest, Emily was attracted to Harmon. He was ruggedly handsome, tall, and well built. Under other circumstances, she could easily see herself filling the transit time by riding his cock to a multitude of satisfying and stress relieving orgasms.

But she had a rule about sleeping with the help, and that's all Harmon was: like Frick and Frack, he was nothing more than the help. Emily knew, of course, that she would need some sexual release before this God-awful long transit was over. It was such a shame she didn't have access to any number of slaves with whom she could discover some degree of carnal delight. Oh wait, she thought, smiling, I do!

***********************************
​

It seemed an eternity before the ship's acceleration ceased and the captain activated the artificial gravity, allowing Emily to proceed to the storage bay in which the cargo was stored. Frick had ridden out the departure and acceleration to FTLS inside the bay, keeping an eye on the cargo; Frack had posted outside Emily's compartment during that period, ready to provide protection if the need had arisen.

After entering her personal code at the door and leaning forward for an iris scan, Emily stepped back to let Frick pull the door open. Inside, she scanned the hold's occupants, asking Frack with a feigned tone of concern, "Everyone comfortable?"

The man only nodded; neither he nor his cousin spoke much, which was perfectly fine with Emily. She ambled through the center of the compartment, looking left, right, and left again at the males and females chained by one ankle to the bulkheads. Emily picked up on the odor of puke, piss, and feces; not everyone handed the transit from planet to the void as well as others did. The sedatives given to the cargo to make them easier to handle hadn't helped them in controlling their bodily functions. Emily wondered if perhaps that had been a mistake.

In all, there were 39 people -- 26 females and 13 males -- chained along the bulkheads of the compartment. The women ranged from 14 and 32 Earth Standard years. The majority of the females aged 18 and older were heading for the sex slave market; if their looks didn't get them sold for that service, they would find themselves in domestic servitude or lightweight labor jobs. The 13 men ranged between 15 to 44. Most of them were heading for physically demanding jobs, some of which had working lifespans of only a handful of years.

Or ... at least ... that was the story Emily had presented to those who were participating in this business venture. The truth of this venture to Rostoff IV was far different than what anyone else knew.

"Okay, listen up!" Emily called out after she'd taken a couple of minutes to inspect the cargo. "We are going to unshackle you now. You are free to move about the compartment, but...!" She glared about at the people with a harsh expression. "...if you cause any trouble ... for me ... or for anyone else in this room ... there will be consequences." Emily gestured an extended fingertip toward Frick, then Frack, and explained, "One of my men will be posted outside the compartment ... and if anyone does anything he thinks I wouldn't like, he will begin venting the air out of the room until you stop whatever the fuck it is that you're doing."

She turned fully around, taking in every face, asking, "Does everyone understand?"

Emily got a mix of reactions, from nothing at all to slight smiles and thanks. She headed to the open door and tapped a control on the wrist band she wore on her left arm. With a single tone, all of the ankle shackles unlocked at once. Some people immediately pulled their ankles free, while others were more cautious.

She explained that they had water, soap, towels, and more with which to clear up, as well as food and water to fill their bellies. Emily pointed to a pair of crates, explaining what other resources they had available to them: extra clothing and blankets, first aid kits, and even playing cards to keep them entertained.

"If everyone cooperates," Emily told them, "there will be more benefits bestowed on you over the hours and days to come."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Robert Durrow, aka Frick, immediately stood at the sound of his employer at the other side of the compartment's door. He called to the slaves to be silent and settle down, then stepped over closer to his side of the door and waited for Emily's entrance.

He and his cousin, Victor -- aka Frack -- were still very much in the dog pen with their employer after the incident at the docking port bar. He hadn't shown so much respect for another human being since his days in the Consortium's Militia. This job, even at 1/3 wages for the next several months was still better than anything else he might be able to find out here deep in the Void.

Emily entered, asking, "Everyone comfortable?"

He didn't really know how to answer that question. For the two or three or ten hours of acceleration, however fucking long it had actually been, had been uncomfortable for him. He'd been buckled into a chair bolted to the bulkhead near the door for the duration. He'd almost yearned to be laying on one of the thin pads provided for the slaves.

He only nodded to Emily. He stayed neared the door while she examined the storage bay and its human cargo. Victor moved close to him, whispering, "All good?"

"I'm stiff, I'm achy, I'm anxious," Robert whispered back. He'd never liked the acceleration to or deceleration from light speed, even when sitting in a comfortable, padded flight chair. Catching his cousin's eye, he nodded to one of the more beautiful women shackled to the bulkhead. He shared his thoughts, "I'm horny."

"Hands to yourself," Victor warned him. It was all he had to say for Robert to grimace. They both knew that availing themselves of Emily's possessions, even if they were destined for sexual slavery, was a good way to get a bullet or bolt to the brain.

Robert leaned slightly toward his paternal cousin and elbowed him. He nodded Robert's attention to another slave, one who attracted him: a young, slight male. Victor's yearnings were for those of his own gender, something known by both his cousin and his employer. Nothing about his sexual preferences prevented him from being the masculine brute that someone like Emily Engles needed as a bodyguard.

"Okay, listen up!" Emily called out, breaking the cousins from their lustful thoughts. She explained to the slaves that they would be freed from their shackles to allow for movement, cleaning, eating, and more. Emily indicated the cousins, threatening any possible mayhem with the decompression of the compartment. She finished, "Does everyone understand?"

With a touch to her wrist band, Emily unlocked the others and talked more about what the slaves had available to them: hygiene supplies, clothing, and more. "If everyone cooperates, there will be more benefits bestowed on you over the hours and days to come."

Robert leaned close to Victor, whispering, "Sweaty orgasms...?"

Victor tried to suppress a laugh but couldn't. Emily looked to him but otherwise didn't respond. They both quickly resumed their stoic expressions and stances.

Emily swapped the slaves' guardian, leaving Victor behind in Robert's place. The latter cousin was giving some time to get food for both he and Victor, as well as spending some time cleaning up, changing clothes, or whatever he wanted. He had 30 minutes. After that, he was expected to be back at Emily's door, standing guard.

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>​

Once they were at FTLS cruising speed, Harmon headed aft to check with Taylor Kling. There were a lot of things that could go wrong after leaving atmo and returning to the void, particularly immediately after so many repairs as had been done on Hulur Bravo. They spent almost two hours checking everything of importance. Harmon dismissed Taylor, telling him to get some food and rest. "I'll keep an eye on things for a while."

Another hour later, Harmon forward to the bridge to check on things there before heading for his own stateroom. It was the largest of the 6 staterooms aboard the ship, nearly 5 meters by 4 meters. Despite being larger than the others, it wasn't luxurious in anyway. Harmon was a simple kind of guy, needing little more than a bed, a desk and chair, a small dresser (mostly filled with undergarments), a small wardrobe (for his outer uniforms and boots), and a private Hygiene Room, which included a shower but no tub.

The majority of the space was occupied with valuable cargo that Harmon had collected over the years. There were cases of alcohol, crates of delicious food items, and an assortment of trade goods he traded for quick cash when he needed it. Most of these things had been skimmed off the top of deliveries he'd been paid to make.

Harmon stripped down to his boxers to shower and grabbed a towel and clean clothes. He didn't head for his quarter's private Hygiene Room, though, instead heading for a door on the opposite bulkhead. This door led to a Hygiene Room shared with the neighboring Guest Compartment. It was more luxurious, with far more open space, a steam room, a swimming tank, and a bathtub with whirlpool jets. (The tank and tub were sealed tight except for when in use, to prevent the water in them from floating about the room when the Arti-Grav or planetary gravity wasn't keeping it where it belonged.)

Harmon pushed the door open, then stopped short, his eyes growing three sizes and his mouth falling open as the sight of a woman exposing her wonderful features as she stretched her arms. Harmon should have turned back immediately, of course. But noticing that she hadn't noticed him, he took the moment to enjoy the view.

Finally, though, she realized she wasn't alone and pulled her robe closed to hide her beauty. Harmon only then turned away, saying, "Sorry! I, um, I'm, I'm ... sorry. I ... I didn't know anyone..."

He glanced back her way to ensure she was covered up, then met her eyes again with the most obvious question: "I'm sorry, but ... who are you?"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

At the Slave Compartment, a while before the above post:

Emily gave instructions to Frick and Frack. She told them, "I am going to my stateroom, and I am not to be disturbed."

She arrived at her stateroom, grimacing at its condition. If this had been a passenger liner or even one of the modern Consortium vessels, Emily would have had the most elegantly appointed stateroom on the ship, better even than that of the vessel's captain.

But she would make this one do. Before they'd left Hular Bravo, Emily had purchased a large, comfortable canopy bed; real wood dressers, wardrobes, bureau, and tea table; fine rugs and wall draperies; various decorations to hide the ugliness of the piping, conduits, and vents cluttering the overhead space; and paint to be used by a skilled pair of slaves.

Emily found her Lady's Maid, Maggie, working diligently on the stateroom. The former interrupted the latter's work, saying, "I need to sleep. We can continue with this later."

"Yes, Miss," Maggie said. She collected Emily's night gown and hurried to her boss, helping the woman out of her clothes.

"I want to bathe first," Emily said. "Have you tested the bathroom for hot water?"

"Yes, Miss," Maggie answered. "Hot and cold water, and I cleaned it. Your necessities are already spread out as you like them."

Now, stripped down to just her panties, Emily headed for the bathroom but caught sight of a sleeping pad with blankets and a pillow lying in the nearby corner of the stateroom; next to it was the remainder of her servant's possessions. "What is this, Maggie?"

The servant hesitantly explained, "Well, Miss, the compartment across the hall isn't ready for me to occupy it yet."

Emily asked, "What do you mean, not ready?"

"It's ... it's full of freight, Miss," Maggie answered. "There's no room for me. Sorry. I thought you knew."

"No, I didn't know," Emily growled in annoyance.

"I can find another place to sleep, Miss," Maggie said quickly. "I'm sure that there's compartment someplace that--"

"No ... no, don't be silly," Emily cut in. "We've shared a bed in the past. We can do it tonight, too."

"Yes, Miss," Maggie responded. Then, softer and to herself, she murmured, "I remember."

Beyond Maggie, Emily, Frick, and Frack, no one else knew that Maggie's first position of employment with Emily had been as a prestataire de plaisir ... a pleasure provider. In other circumstances, Maggie might have been called a prostitute or a whore, but until that first night when Emily both bought and brought the recently turned 18-year-old Maggie into her bed, the girl had never been touched sensually or sexually by another human being, either female or male.

Maggie had initially been nervous and fearful of what had been expected of her, of course. She'd grown up in the reclusive Society of San Sebastian's Convent, where she'd never once seen a male nor engaged in any sort of sensual or sexual pleasure with a woman. It fell upon Emily to teach Maggie everything she wanted the girl to know about sensuality and sexuality. Emily had been very happy with Maggie's learning curve, and for just more than a full Standard Year, the two of them spent far more nights in each other's arms than not.

Then, Emily made a mistake -- even she remembers it as an error in judgement on her part -- when she offered her prestataire de plaisir's services to a male business associate in exchange for favorable terms in a lucrative business deal. Maggie did as her Mistress asked and gave herself to the man. But the then-19-year-old who'd only ever made love with Emily came away from the night traumatized and destroyed, in a sense. After that, she was unable to joyfully participate in sex with Emily, finding it difficult -- impossible -- to fully participate with Emily; she would go through the actions as before, but the passion and even love were gone.

After three months of disappointing engagements with Maggie, Emily terminated that part of their relationship, relegating Maggie to Lady's Maid and only Lady's Maid. The majority of Maggie's 3 years of employment with Emily had thus been performed while the two of them were fully clothed.

"You're not sleeping next to me without cleaning up, though," Emily said. "You can shower after me."

"I can use the other Hygiene Room, Miss," Maggie said. She pointed a finger to a door in the far bulkhead and explained, "It's another Hygiene Room, Miss. It has more accommodations, Miss. Sauna, swimming tank ... such things."

Emily considered heading that way instead, but then asked, "Have you cleaned it?"

"No, Miss, not yet," Maggie said with a tone of regret. "I can now, though, if you'd like to--"

"No, no ... that's fine," Emily cut in; she didn't want to wait for the girl to sanitize yet another Hygiene Room when this nearer one was already ready for her. Emily looked Maggie up and down and could see that the servant needed to clean up, too. She nodded her head toward the other Hygiene Room's entrance, asking, "Is that clean enough for you to use."

"Oh, yes, Miss," Maggie responded with a smile. "It'll do just fine for me."

She hadn't meant to say that in such a way as to make Emily feel hoity-toity or anything, and her boss didn't respond negatively to her about her words, so Maggie simply waited for her boss to disappear into the Hygiene Room. She hurried to her corner, gathered her sleeping gown, her robe, and her necessities bag, and headed for the shared room ... not understanding that it was shared.

She had stripped out of her clothes and turned on the shower, only to find there was no water. She looked to the tub, then the swimming tank; both were currently empty and, besides, they weren't intended for bathing one's dirty body anyway, so why did she even consider it?

Maggie slipped into her robe, concluding that her only choice was to wait for Emily to finish her own routine before she herself then used the other Hygiene Room. It was then that she felt the need to stretch ... and got caught exposing her delicious female features to a male! No male had seen her in such a state of undress since that one and only time that Emily had hired her out for her own financial benefit. She covered up quickly and had an awkward exchange with the man who, obviously, was the captain of the cargo vessel. not just by pulling her robe tightly over her curves but crossing her arms over her torso as well.

"Sorry! I, um, I'm, I'm ... sorry," the man said, turning his eyes. "I ... I didn't know anyone..."

"I'm sorry," she said, wondering if she'd misunderstood about whose Hygiene Room this actually was. She looked to the door she'd used to access it, then to his; immediately she felt stupid for not having understood that the second door meant it might be a shared space.

After he looked to her again, he asked, "I'm sorry, but ... who are you?"

"I'm Maggie," she answered, reaching to her waist to tie the robe closed. She corrected and clarified, "Margaret. I'm Miss Engles' Lady's Maid."

It hadn't occurred to Maggie until just this moment that she hadn't met the Harmon. She'd seen a different man -- Taylor -- earlier in the day and had assumed it was the Captain of the vessel. Now, though, the mistake she'd made seemed obvious.

Maggie couldn't help but notice the man looking her up and down and suddenly felt the hot flushing of the blush in her cheeks. Many men had ogled her during her time with Emily; some of those men had mad attempts to secure some personal time with the slave; but only one man had ever succeeded, and at the time, that had been one too many men for Maggie.

She wasn't so sure about that anymore, though. Oh, that first mixed gender encounter had been awkward, uncomfortable, and painful; there was no doubt about that at the time. Ironically, though, she'd experienced orgasm at the hands of that male, even if he'd been a bit rough getting her there. Maggie had cum with Emily, too -- often and deeply -- but the experience of so easily being given to another person -- a male, her first male -- had damaged her relationship with Emily too deeply to accept.

By the time Maggie began to forgive her boss and feel comfortable enough to once again enjoy pleasure with her, Emily had moved on to other people for her needs, and the two of them never had sex with one another again.

"You must be Captain Davis." Maggie finally said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "I ... I wasn't expecting you, any more than you seem to have been expecting me."

Maggie hesitated for some sort of verbal response from Harmon, but before he could say anything, a third person spoke with a harsh tone: "Margaret."

Maggie flinched and spun toward the voice, finding Emily standing in the doorway. She lowered her gaze to the floor in a combination of respect and embarrassment, somehow pulling her hands and arms even tighter around her body as if fearing she was still inappropriately exposed to the Captain.

"I'm sorry, Miss," she began apologizing. "I ... I ... there was no water ... and apparently, I forgot to lock the doors -- both doors -- and the Captain--"

Emily stepped aside opening a path back into her compartment, saying, "You may use the facilities in my stateroom."

Without delay, Maggie snatched up her things and headed away, not looking back. Emily looked to Harmon, gently shaking her head. She then looked about the room at the currently unusable equipment. To Harmon, she asked with an expectant tone, "Can I assume you will have these functional soon."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

(OOC: I like the way you're bolding all of the dialogue. I'm going to copy you.)

"You must be Captain Davis," the Goddess of a woman said after introducing herself.

Harmon began to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He cleared it and said meekly, "I am."

"I ... I wasn't expecting you, any more than you seem to have been expecting me."

The man's brain was still reeling from a sight. Two of the Void's most beautiful women, here on my boat? What're the fucking odds? Just as had Maggie, Harmon found himself flinching at Emily's chastising tone from the door: "Margaret..."

The women conducted their exchange of dialogue, and suddenly Maggie was gone. Emily gave Harmon a smirk, looked about, and asked, "Can I assume you will have these functional soon."

"I think I have the parts to get it working, yes," he answered. "Gimme the day to finish the post-light speed checks and it'll be my first task."

He thought about what had happened again, asking, "Lady's Maid...? Kinda sounds ... old ... you know, like in those period pieces from Europe ... England maybe .... the ones you see on the RecVid ... 20th century ... earlier maybe?"

Harmon wanted to ask if Maggie was a freeman, an indentured servant, or a slave, but he resisted as he doubted that Emily would find it any of his business.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Regarding Harmon's vow to make the bathing facilities whole, Emily only nodded her head slightly. In response to the man's inquiry about the other woman, Emily answered, "Maggie is my personal servant. She is no concern of yours. I would very much appreciate it if you did not address or interact with her any more than necessary, Captain. She is young and impressionable and naive about many things ... including men."

As she was saying that last part, Emily's stomach rolled over at the memory of how Maggie had responded to being given to a stranger for his sexual pleasure. It still hurt her to this day that she'd harmed the girl in that way. She'd wanted to make up for it somehow; Emily had even considered giving Maggie her freedom, sending her away with a bag full of Credits and her wishes for a happy future. But honestly, she couldn't imagine a girl like Maggie -- with minimal education or worldly experience -- finding a better life out there in the Void than she had here as a servant. It wasn't as if she was mistreated or disrespected as some house servants or Lady's Maids were by their owners. Maggie lived a comparably safe and comfortable life.

"I'll be in my quarters, Captain," Emily called over her shoulder after she'd turned to leave. "Please ... I would prefer not to be disturbed."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

"Maggie is my personal servant," Emily answered Harmon's question, adding firmly, "She is no concern of yours."

Honestly, the woman's reply didn't surprise Harmon much. Emily had been fairly strict in most of her dealings with Harmon since the moment they'd met. The truth was that she very much had the upper hand. Harmon was just going along to get along. He'd played the submissive to dominant employers in the past. He didn't like it. But he knew it never lasted long. And once it was over, he got to sit back and play with all the Consortium Credits he'd earned and murmur, Fuck you all the way to the bank.

But then Emily added sternly, "I would very much appreciate it if you did not address or interact with her any more than necessary, Captain. She is young and impressionable and naive about many things ... including men."

That piqued Harmon's interest a bit. The first word to jump into his mind was virgin! He'd never had a virgin before. Ever! It was one of his 20 Bucket List items, 14 of which he'd already accomplished. Emily didn't actually say that Maggie was a virgin, of course. But still, naive about many things including men could only men virgin, right?

"Of course ... Miss Engles," he responded. He added the last part, the emphasis on her title and surname, to further reassure her that she was the boss. You can boss me around in bed, if you want, Harmon thought to himself, adding to his thought, and bring your virgin Lady's Maid with you for her first taste of Man Meat.

"I'll be in my quarters, Captain," she said after turning away. "Please ... I would prefer not to be disturbed."

"Of course," he said again. "Sleep tight."

After Emily had closed the door, Harmon smiled wide, then chuckled. This is going to be one fucking long ride, he thought to himself. He returned to his own quarters, abandoning his plan to fill the whirlpool tub and soak. Instead, he took a quick shower in his private Hygiene Room, knocking one out to the image of Maggie bent over the counter, staring back at him in the mirror as she cried out to her first ever fuck and explosive orgasm.

.........................................
​

Six hours later:

Harmon awoke to the familiar beating on his door by Taylor. Rising and pulling his boxers back up from his thighs where they'd remained after masturbating, he swung the door open, growling, "What?!?"

"I need you in the Engineroom," Taylor growled back. "We have a problem."

"Fuck ... whatever," Harmon growled back. He asked for specifics, realized it wasn't too much of an emergency, and chose to shower and slip into a clean pair of coveralls first. 15 minutes later, he was up to his elbows in oil and grease in an attempt to get a malfunctioning motor to work.

"Let's get some breakfast," he told his Engineer once they were done. They each cleaned up and changed before heading to the galley. He took another long look at all the crates, bottles, barrels, and bags of food that had been loaded as part of the replenishment back on Hulur Bravo. He murmured more to himself than to Taylor, "The woman really knows how to fill a pantry."

He spent several minutes looking through the refrigerator and walk-in freezer, then selected all that he needed to create a scrumptious breakfast. Frick happened by just as Harmon was preparing to cook, leading the latter to call out, "Hey, big guy! Go tell your boss that I'm making breakfast. And remind her that I said I'm one fucking helluva cook."

The bodyguard just stared a moment, then walked away without an answer. He would go to Emily's door, where his cousin was posted, and ask if their boss had given them a time to wake her or not.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

(OOC: I have to apologize for going so long again! This time, instead of editing my post down to keep it under 10,000 words, I instead split it between two posts. Don't hate me.)

Last evening:

As she explained who and what Maggie was to her and to others, Emily found Harmon's reaction hard to determine; he was a man who she thought would be a bad person to play poker with as he didn't seem to have any obvious tells. She'd known exactly what was going through his head the first time they'd met, and he'd looked her up and down with a hungry smirk. But here and now he kept those thoughts concealed very well.

As she turned to return to her own stateroom, Harmon told her with a friendly tone, "Sleep tight."

She gave him one last glance before closing the door between them, finding him smiling friendly. Once the door closed, though, she heard him chuckle. Ironically, his humor made her chuckle, too. Emily couldn't be sure exactly what had happened between Harmon and Maggie without asking the Lady's Maid, and Emily could certainly do that to get a clearer picture. But for the moment she thought it better not to ask; even after more than a year and a half since their sexual relationship had ended, the two of them hadn't regained the true friendship they'd developed in those first days.

Turning away from the shared Hygiene Room, Emily found Maggie standing in the middle of the stateroom waiting for her; the younger woman continued to hold her arms across her torso protectively, her gaze on the floor as if she expected to be chastised. Emily approached her closely and smiled, not that the other women saw the expression.

"You're fine, Maggie," Emily told her with a soft tone. She reached up and raised the other woman's chin and, of course, eyes. In the latter, she was surprised to find tears. With sincere concern, she asked, "What's wrong...? Margaret ... did he hurt you?"

"No, Miss ... oh, no, Miss, no," the servant responded. She sobbed once but then quickly regained her composure.

"Then tell me, why are you crying?" Emily begged.

Maggie attempted to speak, released a second short sob, then lowered her eyes to the floor again. After a long moment of silence, she only said, "I think I should sleep on my pad on the floor, Miss."

"Don't be absurd," Emily responded, chuckling. Exaggerating a tiny bit, she told the other woman, "The bed's big enough for you, me, and half the people in the storage bay."

Maggie couldn't help but laugh, short and sharp; Emily had always been able to bring humor into just about any situation, no matter how dire. She wondered if the Captain had seen that side of her Mistress yet. Again, Emily lifted Maggie's chin, asking, "Why do you think you shouldn't sleep in my bed, Maggie. Is it because ... because of what I did to you that night so long ago? Will we ever get past that?"

Then, with her fingertips slipping gently from Maggie's chin to her cheek for a soft caress, Emily asked, "Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

Again, the servant's eyes fell from her Mistress's, though this time they were too close to one another for her to drop her gaze fully to the floor. Emily had taken a quick shower and was now wearing her own robe, pulled tight around her to show off her cleavage and hourglass figure. Maggie saw Emily naked on almost a daily basis, of course, when she helped the woman dress or even bath.

But at this very moment she couldn't help but remember how much more beautiful Emily had seemed when the two of them pressed their bodies against one another's in the heights of great passion. And she suddenly wondered whether or not it was her close encounter with the Captain that suddenly had her yearning to once again have her hands all over another person, most likely Emily ... but perhaps Harmon instead...?

Her first and only sexual encounter with a male had destroyed her relationship with her first and only female lover, of course. Yet despite the awkwardness, hesitation, fear, pain, and -- of course -- sense of betrayal associated to her lover and Mistress giving her over to a man for her first bout with intercourse, Maggie had experienced orgasm. She'd forever been conflicted about that irony: how could she resent and regret something that had caused her such wondrous joy ... twice?

"There is nothing to forgive, Miss," Maggie said softly, not for a moment believing what she was saying. She'd said it many times in those first days after the betrayal, when Emily had tried so desperately to fix what she'd done. She didn't sound any more convincing now than she had then.

Emily gave up. She lowered her hand and took a half step back, saying, "Go clean up and come to bed. I won't have you sleeping on the floor in this place. The Gods only know what sort of vermin creatures call this place home. Go."

"Yes, Miss," Maggie said, dutifully turning to the Hygiene room, her arms still full of the things she'd initially taken with her the opposite direction. "I won't be long, Miss, and I'll set your music as soon as I come out."
"I'll take care of it," Emily responded, looking about the room for the music player. Finding it, she issued a voice command that resulted in the soft, ambient sleeping music coming from speakers the servant had already set up in the corners of the stateroom.

Entering the Hygiene Room, Maggie only partially closed the door between them; it wasn't proper for a servant of her standing to either concern herself with her own privacy or prevent their Mistress from being able to monitor their actions when nearby. After a moment, the off kilter door slowly began opening until it offered Emily an unobstructed view of her servant. She took a long moment to appreciate Maggie's delicious body, recalling the wondrous times they'd had in one another's arms in the beginning of their time together.

When she realized that the servant's eyes had found her ogling, Emily turned away, embarrassed and blushing. She swung around the bed, not because she had a side but simply to escape Maggie's view before she dropped her robe and climbed into bed; even though she typically slept in a night gown, tonight she'd only slipped back into her panties and robe after showering. Emily thought it might be more proper to be dressed in bed on this occasion, and she even reached for the sleeping wear again laying over the back of a chair. But she hesitated, dropped it again, and slipped into her side of the bed in only a pair of panties.

It was only a few minutes later when Maggie returned; she, as Emily had expected, was well covered by her own sleeping wear. The servant again glanced toward the matt on the floor, causing Emily to pull back the bedding on the other side of the bed and demand, "Get in. Don't be silly."

Maggie did as commanded, notably remaining well on her side of the bed and laying on her back to look up to the overhead. After a moment, she filled the awkward silence with, "It really is ugly, isn't it...? All that up there. Are you certain that the Captain doesn't have a more appropriate living space for you, Miss?"
"Go to sleep, Maggie," Emily said softly. "We will deal more with the Captain tomorrow." She kept her gaze on Maggie for a long moment, hoping for some soft interaction with the woman with whom she'd had such a beautiful relationship. When Maggie closed her eyes, though, Emily dismissed any hopes that tonight might end with them closer to one another once again. She instead rolled away from the servant, murmuring, "G'night, Maggie."

"Good night, Miss," Maggie responded. Then, remembering what she'd heard Harmon say a bit earlier, repeated, "Sleep tight."

(Part 2 next)

​

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

(Part 2)

The next morning:

Maggie awoke to the sound of movement elsewhere in the room, opening her eyes and finding a nearly fully dressed Emily searching through her trunks. The latter caught sight of the former, smiled, and said, "It's about time, sleepy head."

Maggie looked horrified at the understanding that her Mistress had awoken before her and practically leapt out of bed. "I'm sorry, Miss. I ... I--"

But Emily only laughed, responding, "Relax! You did nothing wrong, Maggie. You needed a good night's sleep, and you looked so peaceful lying there, so I let you alone." She returned to her search, asking, "Did we pack those boots ... you know the ones, with the bangles?"

Maggie was still clearing her eyes and mind, but after a moment rushed forward to a specific trunk, pulled out the boots, and offered them out. Emily took them, moved close to kiss the other woman on the cheek, and said, "My savior." As she turned to her bureau to finish dressing, she casually tossed out, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Maggie. But right now, you have to get dressed. I checked with Frick ... or was it Frack, I dunno. It was Robert, anyway, and he told me that the Captain is preparing a meal for us. Hop to it."

Playfully, Emily clapped her hands together, a well-known signal to get a move on. As she turned to the bureau's mirror to finish painting her face, she glanced in the reflection to catch glimpses of the other woman as she hurried dressed, splashed her face with water, and combed out her hair. Emily had always been impressed with how quickly and easily Maggie could make herself look beautiful; she herself had always taken forever to do the same, feeling as though absolute perfection had always been the order of the day.

Maggie was ready to go and spending the last few minutes tidying up around the disorganized room before Emily announced she was ready. The servant checked her Mistress's appearance, tugged here and there at the outfit that was similar in style to the clothes she'd worn on her first encounter with Captain Harmon but made of soft, purplish cloth as opposed to the baby blue leather and latex.

With Frick out front and Frack in behind, the two women headed for the compartment they'd been told was called The Captain's Dining Hall. When they arrived, Emily had to smile to herself; it wasn't much relative to the modern Consortium ship dining halls she knew well, let alone the luxury passenger liners she preferred for her interstellar travel. But still, it was likely better appointed than the Mess Decks located on the other side of the kitchen in which Harmon had created his meal.

"Thank you for this, Captain," Emily said with a sincere tone as each of the bodyguards helped each of the women into a chair at the table that sat 10. One glance around her told Emily that the room didn't get much use from other passengers or contract crew; even out here in the Void, spiders left cobwebs and dust found horizontal surfaces, both of which Emily caught sight of on some of the nearby chairs. Waiting for Maggie to speak a similar greeting and for the bodyguards to depart -- their breakfast was waiting for them in that other eating space -- Emily added, "I see that you are availing yourself of the provisions quite ... liberally."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Harmon was delivering plates of food to the table in the Captain's Dining Hall and grimaced at the sight of Robert entering. But he then quickly smiled at the sight of Emily walking in right behind him, followed closely by the equally beautiful Maggie; the pair of them caused excited twitches and a bit of growth in his pants.

"Welcome, welcome, ladies," he said as he gestured toward the table, eagerly saying, "We're nearly ready. Take a seat."

He watched the bodyguards help the women to the seats on either side of the seating at the head of the table. Only those three places had place settings awaiting his guests. Harmon caught the questioning glares from the men and explained, "Your breakfast is waiting for you in the crew dining room."

He pointed toward the door they'd entered through, clarifying, "Take a right, next door on the right."

The two bodyguards each gave Harmon a dirty glare. Still, without some sort of conflicting statement from their boss, they turned and left the room. Emily responded, "Thank you for this, Captain."

"Of course, my pleasure," he said excitedly as he returned to the kitchen for another platter of food. He chuckled softly upon his return, explaining. "It isn't often that I get to employ my skills in the kitchen." He laughed again. "You know, if I hadn't become what I'd become, I might have been a chef."

Emily took a moment to scan the table before saying, "I see that you are availing yourself of the provisions quite ... liberally."

Harmon looked about the table, too, smiling with pride. Then, he caught Emily's meaning in the word liberally. "Oh. I, um..."

He wasn't sure what to say to her. The abundance of provisions combined with his desire to impress Emily had resulted in his preparing more than a dozen items: meats, pastries, fruits, drinks, a special porridge his mother had taught him in his youth, and more. The platters, bowls, pitchers, and glasses filled half the table.

"I wasn't sure what you preferred," Harmon explained, "So I thought ... better safe than sorry. Dig in."

He shed the apron that by now was covered in flour and a variety of other ingredients and dropped into the chair at the head of the table. Harmon began pointing at the dishes, explaining what they were, including little notes about how he made them, what their secret ingredients were, and more. He was obviously excited about the work he'd done in the kitchen.

Taylor stepped into the dining hall, saying without looking up from the oily rag he was wiping his hand with, "Cap', I finished with that--" He stopped at the sight of the women and lavish meal, smiled, and exclaimed, "Wow, Cap'. I'm impressed."

The man stuffed the rag into the pocket of his coveralls and took a step nearer, only to hear Harmon cut him off firmly, "I put out a plate for you in the mess hall." Taylor stopped, his face showing his disappointment at not being asked to join the four. Harmon reached out a hand and shooed him out of the room. Seeing that neither of the females were looking his way, the mechanic flashed his middle finger at his boss before turning and departing.

"So, dig in," Harmon repeated, snatching up one of the meat dishes and holding it out before Emily. He described it in more detail as she took her serving, followed by him offering the same to the servant. As they filled their plates, bowls, and glasses with his creations, Harmon reviewed the ship's situation, wanting to reassure them that they were safely and efficiently on their way. He added, "At our current speed, it'll be 12 days Standard before we begin our deceleration."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"Oh. I, um ... I wasn't sure what you preferred," Harmon responded to Emily's comment about the spread before them. "So, I thought ... better safe than sorry. Dig in."

Emily's lips spread in a small smile at the man's cover story. Oh, she didn't care one way or the other about whether he presented a feast or a bowl of gruel. Looking to the bowl on her left, she had to chuckle when she realized that he had presented one, in effect. In fact, she was accustomed to having lavish meals prepared for her, so the only thing about the breakfast that surprised her was that this ... cargo pilot had prepared it.

"I'm impressed, Captain ... truly," she told Harmon. "It looks delicious, and I'm sure it tastes delicious, too."

She caught sight of the mechanic entering just as he was saying, "Cap', I finished with that -- Wow, Cap'. I'm impressed."

Emily smiled to Taylor and was about to greet him and welcome him to the table when Harmon quickly and firmly said, "I put out a plate for you in the mess hall." She looked to the Captain, knowing from the expression and tone that Harmon was wanting to keep his guests to himself. She smiled again, looking across to Maggie and finding her also smirking with understanding. She shrugged slightly, causing the other woman to giggle softly.

"So, dig in," Harmon repeated, leading them into what did in fact turn out to be a delicious breakfast. As they ate, the Captain spoke about the ship's condition, answering inquiries Emily made out of true concern or a desire to make small talk. He surprised her, though, when he said, "At our current speed, it'll be 12 days Standard before we begin our deceleration."

"Twelve days...? That quickly?" Emily questioned. When Harmon confirmed the arrival time, she firmly demanded, "Reduce speed, Captain." His reaction wasn't a surprise. She told him, "I have made arrangements to meet my clients on Rostoff IV in 23 Days Standard ... not 12. I'm sorry; I thought I'd explained that to you."

She took in a mouthful of food, chewed, swallowed, followed it with real, fresh milk, and added, "Arriving at Rostoff early would present ... problems that I would prefer not to face." Then, with a firm tone, she finished, "Make it happen. I don't care how."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

"Twelve days...?" Emily questioned with obvious surprise. "That quickly?"

"Well, yeah ... twelve," he confirmed. "I mean, barring any problems with the repairs the teams on Hular made. I mean, Florence is a well-built babe..."

He didn't think about the fact that this was the first time he'd mentioned the cargo ship's legal name. He had assumed that Emily knew the vessel's name from even before hiring him and, of course, getting him out of detention. The ship had been named Florence prior to Harmon's purchase of her. It was considered bad luck to change a ship's name, so he'd left her the way he'd found her.

Of course, the vessel wasn't always identified by its true name when the authorities asked. There had been times when Harmon's true profession as Ship Captain could be more precisely defined as Space Pirate. Hular Bravo wasn't the first time he'd seen the inside of a detention cell. Counting all of the days of all of his detentions, Harmon had spent more than four years of his life behind bars or energy fields. The only thing that had prevented him from being executed or sent to a life-ending labor camp was the fact that he'd never been convicted of a violent crime.

He added, "In fact, I could get us there quicker if--"

"Reduce speed, Captain," Emily cut him off.

"What?" he asked with obvious surprise. Even though many if not most of his clients had asked him to get him to their destination quicker than possible, Harmon had never been asked to get them there slower.

"I have made arrangements to meet my clients on Rostoff IV in 23 Days Standard ... not 12," Emily explained. "I'm sorry; I thought I'd explained that to you."

"No, you didn't," Harmon said, a bit harsher than he'd meant. He bit of the end of a sausage, chewing it as he continued, "I don't understand, Miss Engles. I mean ... every day out her in the Void beyond our possible arrival date is a loss of profit."

Harmon suddenly began wondering about that profit. Was the extra cost going to come out of his end? After all, he'd agreed to get Emily and her cargo to Rostoff IV for a set fee, but the two of them hadn't negotiated anything beyond that. Harmon could get the Florence to Rostoff in as little as 9 days if they pushed the engines and expended a Gods' awful amount of fuel in deceleration.

After those 9 days, or even the 12 at the current speed, Harmon presumed that he was free to continue his trade with other clients. That meant more Credits from those clients. Each day spent poking about out here in the Void was a day without more money.

"Arriving at Rostoff early would present ... problems that I would prefer not to face," Emily explained. With a firm tone, she finished, "Make it happen. I don't care how."

Harmon continued chewing on the remainder of the sausage as he stared at his client with obvious surprise. With him mouth unhurriedly cleared of food, he asked, "So ... can I expect to see additional Credits coming my way?"

He sipped at his milk, following up, "I mean, 23 days instead of 12? That's 9 days for which I won't be taking Credits from my next client. That's ... not negligible."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"I don't understand, Miss Engles," Harmon challenged. "I mean ... every day out her in the Void beyond our possible arrival date is a loss of profit."

Emily couldn't care less about whether or not the delay would cost Harmon money. That might have had something to do with the fact that it wasn't her money being lost; she'd offered him a million Consortium Credits to get her and her cargo to Rostoff IV without any specifics about speed or arrival date. If Harmon had wanted more information at the time, he should have asked.

Harmon asked, "So ... can I expect to see additional Credits coming my way? I mean, 23 days instead of 12? That's 9 days for which I won't be taking Credits from my next client. That's ... not negligible."

"We have a contract, Mister Davis," Emily countered. "And compared to how much I spent repairing your ship ... your Florence--"

She had, of course, known the legal name of the vessel prior to hiring it and springing its Captain from detention. In fact, through the intelligence resources of her grandfather, Emily even knew some of the faux names Harmon had used in the past, mostly during incidents that had resulted in him spending days or months in detention while his actions were being investigated.

Emily continued, "--replenishing your stocks, refueling her ... not to mention the one million Credits you're being paid ... nine days delay is negligible ... and you'll eat it ... happily."

She could still eat more and hadn't yet tried everything offered but still set her cloth napkin -- another surprise -- on the table, pushed her chair back, and stood, saying, "You'll have to excuse me, Captain. I have things to do." She paused, looking at the meal again, then to Harmon. "Thank you, Captain. It was all very delicious--" She smiled, finishing, "--and I'm sure it will be just as delicious as leftovers."

She gave Maggie a meaningful look, causing the servant to also rise, thanking the Captain for breakfast. They both headed down their side of the table for the exit, with Emily stopping short and turning back. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a couple of my people..."

She hesitated, being careful how she spoke about the men and women in the cargo compartment. After all, even though Harmon had correctly presumed that her cargo was human cargo, Emily hadn't openly confirmed such She continued, "...use your kitchen to prepare meals for the others."

Emily hesitated to receive an answer -- it was positive, as she'd hoped -- then turned and headed aft toward her stateroom. She stopped, though, at the open entrance to the other dining room. She ordered the bodyguards to retrieve two specific members of the cargo and bring them to the kitchen to prepare meals for the others. She told them with confidence, "You won't have any trouble with them."

She continued onward, with Maggie close behind. Once back in her stateroom, she shed her outfit with her servant's help and slipped into some comfortable pajamas. Together, the pair continued with renovating the stateroom to make it more livable.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
​

Minutes later, the bodyguards arrived at the slave compartment to retrieve the two who were going to prepare breakfast for themselves and the others. Viola was a trained cook, with experience in the kitchen that had begun in greasy spoons, moved to private kitchens, and -- before being taken into custody by Emily -- ended in an upscale restaurant that served only the most elite. She'd recently turned 34 years old, Standard.

The second cook was Anya. She was a mere 19 years old and, ironically, had no experience in the kitchen. She'd been a prestataire de plaisir since long before it was legal in most of Consortium-controlled space. Emily had assumed custody of her against her owner's desires, something that had been easy to do after that owner's death at Robert and Victor's hands. Emily had never approved of underage sexual exploitation and had often taken liberties to end such things. She preferred not to leave the perpetrators of such despicable acts dead ... but in this case she'd only shrugged her shoulders and told the cousins, "Too bad, so sad."

Viola's presence in the kitchen would be obvious to anyone who knew her, but Anya's would raise questions to anyone who questioned her lack of experience in such a service position. That was why no one was going to ask; Emily had stressed to the cousins that no one -- not Harmon, not Taylor, not anyone else in the slave compartment -- was to make inquiries about the two women. "In fact, I don't want anyone making inquiries of anyone else. If you see conversations taking place in that compartment, I want you to shut them down."

(OOC: Frick and Frack are generally King's domain, but I'm going to speak for them in this post.)

"They have been talking," Robert had pointed out. He'd pulled a small tablet from his jacket pocket and showed her the image; it was from one of the half dozen cameras positioned all about the compartment to keep an eye on the slaves, and even now you could see various members of the group in conversation with others. "How to you want us to deal with this?"

Firmly, Emily had demanded, "I want you to tell them to keep quiet and keep to themselves ... in a way that impresses upon them that they need to keep quiet and keep to themselves." She'd given Robert a hard glare, then looked to Victor the same way, asking, "Understand?" Before leaving the presence of the two men, she finished, "If you have to put them back in shackles again ... and gags..."

She hadn't finished the threat as she'd disappeared into her stateroom.

At the slave compartment, Robert called out, "Viola! Anya!" The two women stood, and when signaled moved to the man standing at the door. Robert took them outside and away, as Victor laid down the law regarding conversation. He finished by holding up one end of a currently unused shackle in one hand and a gag that he'd fished out of a bag of such devices; they'd been used during the process of bringing the slaves to the Florence back on Hulur Bravo, along with sedatives, to keep control where necessary. The threat seemed to work ... at least for now.

At the kitchen, Robert told them, "Enough food to feed the entire department. Don't get too crazy with it. You're not cooking at the Midnight View anymore." Robert was referring to the upscale restaurant at which Viola had last worked. After making sure that the women knew where everything was, he found a place to sit where he could keep an eye on them and on the tablet's camera views both.

 

[KingOfNowhere]

"We have a contract, Mister Davis," Emily countered when he suggested he was due more pay for the delay. "And compared to how much I spent repairing your ship ... your Florence -- replenishing your stocks, refueling her ... not to mention the one million Credits you're being paid ... nine days delay is negligible ... and you'll eat it ... happily."

Harmon wasn't going to simply agree to this change. But before he could come up with a counter, Emily stood and announced her departure. She said about the meal, "Thank you, Captain. It was all very delicious, and I'm sure it will be just as delicious as leftovers."

"It will," he responded without even questioning what was happening. He couldn't help himself. Emily was simply so polite about it, which was a sudden shift from how she normally dealt with him.

"If you don't mind," she continued, "I'd like to have a couple of my people use your kitchen to prepare meals for the others."

This, Harmon noted with delight, was the first confirmation that the cargo hold of his ship into which he was no longer permitted was in fact filled with human beings. She promised, "You won't have any trouble with them."

"Of course," he responded. "My kitchen, your food and people. Have at it. Just make sure they clean up. While I hate to admit to it, Florence does have a bit of a pest problem."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
​

Minutes later, the bodyguards collected Viola and Anya, with Robert escorting them to the kitchen. As the heterosexual member of the Durrow family members aboard, Robert was more than happy to spend some time with the 19 years old away from the other slaves, away from Emily, even away from his cousin. Ironically, she had been the sexy young thing at which he'd signaled his cousin's attention earlier.

At the kitchen, he told the pair, "Enough food to feed the entire department. Don't get too crazy with it. You're not cooking at the Midnight View anymore." He retired to the mess hall, watching the pair work through an open doorway. His cock alternated between simply thicker than normal to nearly rock hard often, essentially each time he got a nice viewing of the younger woman's shapely bosom or nice, rounded ass.

Robert began contemplating ways to get Anya alone, away from the other cook, for the few minutes it would take for him to fill her pussy with his seed. He was pretty sure that he could come up with a benefit for her to consent to what he wanted.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Anya couldn't help but take notice of Robert ogling her nearly every time she moved into his view. It didn't bother her; she was used to men -- and sometimes women -- looking at her the way Frick was now. Little did he know, one of the reasons Emily had chosen her to act as a chef's apprentice was to become a target of the Mistress's straight bodyguard.

Anya wasn't simply a pretty face or sexy body when it came to Emily Engles' long-term plan. No one else knew her true purpose on this mission or even that this was a mission and not simply an interstellar flight to Rostoff IV. Anya had been trained as an intelligence operative from a young age, deploying her skills in her mid and later teens while her targets believed she was nothing more than a whore.

Emily had discovered her true identity three years ago, had almost immediately begun recruiting her, and -- just last year -- stolen her away from her then-owner. They'd spent that year together planning for her mission on Rostoff IV, as well as others that might arise in other locations.

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Robert thought his imagination was getting the better of him when it appeared as if Anya had smiled to him. His cock twitched and swelled a bit more at the thought that maybe she might reciprocate the interest he had in her.

Once it seemed that the women were prepared to deliver food, Robert joined them in the kitchen, asking, "How can I help, ladies?"

They loaded his hands with a large tote filled with sandwiches, containers of soup, and more. As  Viola continued working, Robert and Anya headed aft with the first delivery. The big male intentionally set a casual pace to give him an opportunity to speak to the beauty. She didn't seem to be in a big hurry either.

He chatted with her casually, not initially saying anything that might be taken as being inappropriate. They reached the compartment, distributed the food, asked if anyone had specific dietary needs. One woman was severely diabetic and asked for food more appropriate to her needs, while a second one needed access to medications that were in a bag that had accidentally been stored somewhere else.

On the way back to the kitchen, Robert took a risk, suggesting, "If you thought you might enjoy it ... I think I could arrange for you to get some time outside the compartment. Maybe one of the spaces with a window looking out on the Void? It's quite a sight if you've never seen it."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"If you thought you might enjoy it," Robert suggested as he escorted Anya back toward the kitchen without haste, "I think I could arrange for you to get some time outside the compartment."

She knew what the man wanted to do with that time outside the compartment, obviously; whether he knew of her former vocation or not, Robert's previous ogles and subsequent flirty conversation had had one and only one goal in mind: leading Anya to parting her thighs -- or perhaps her mouth -- for the purpose of his sexual satisfaction.

Still, she feigned innocence in softly asking, "What is there to do aboard a spaceship, Mister Robert? Where would we go?"

He seemed to appreciate the way she addressed him -- Mister Robert -- and smiled as he answered, "Maybe one of the spaces with a window looking out on the Void? It's quite a sight if you've never seen it."

"I've never seen space from space," Anya said, smiling wide with feigned delight. In truth, she'd been on four planets, three moons, and six space stations in her 19 Standard Years of life, far more space travel than most common whores, as had been and still was her cover. "Yes, Mister Robert. I'd like that very much. But--" She reached out a hand and rested it upon his forearm in an intimate way, continuing, "--only if it won't get you or I in trouble. Lady Emily said we weren't supposed to communicate with any of the other slaves ... and ... I think going someplace secret on the ship ... a private place ... to be alone with you ... I think that could put either or both of us grave danger ... don't you think?"

Anya timed the end of her question to when they arrived at the kitchen entrance again, such that Robert didn't have time to answer; she held a fingertip to her lips, shushing him, then hurried in ahead of him, calling out, "Viola, we're back for a second trip."

Viola had the rest of the food and drinks prepared and packed, and while Anya and Robert alone could have carried the containers without the other woman's help, Anya offered to help clean the kitchen, such that the three of them could travel back together. She saw the disappointment in Robert's face; she smiled to him behind Viola's back, lifting her finger to her lips a second time to enforce that their planned getaway must remain fully secret.

Once they were done cleaning, the three of them returned to the slave compartment. They distributed the rest of the food, after which Anya reminded Robert of the medications that needed to be found for the ailing woman. She walked with him to the door, stacking the now empty totes inside one another to allow Robert to return them to the kitchen on his own; she'd planned on returning with him in the possibility that they'd get their alone time together immediately, but the other bodyguard had been at the door and had gestured Anya back into the room.

Before she stepped away from him, though -- as his cousin was otherwise engaged in conversation with another slave while simultaneously blocking the slaves' views of her -- Anya inconspicuously allowed her open hand to ever so gently brush upon the front of Robert's pants, just below his belt; there was little doubt in her mind that she'd made contact with his already semi-hardened cock while smiling up to him meaningfully.

"We'll see you again soon, Mister Robert...?" she asked expectantly as she walked away from him. She didn't turn back to see if he was watching her, but just in case he was, she put a little extra swing in her hips as she made her way to her distant bed pad.

.........................................
​

In her stateroom, now sitting in a plush armchair after tiring from the cleaning and organizing in which she and Maggie had been participating, Emily was watching one of the camera views of the slave quarters, smiling at the obvious flirtation taking place between her operative and her bodyguard. She thought to herself as she saw what was meant to look like a very inappropriate, physical exchange, Good girl.

One of the things that made Emily so successful in nearly everything she did was knowing more about what was going on than anyone else around her. Even though Robert and Victor had worked for her for six years, Emily hadn't committed herself to trusting them fully. She knew -- or at least feared -- that if it one day became profitable enough for them to do so, they would betray her, one way or another. Perhaps it wouldn't be about money and would instead be about simple revenge, anger, or some other act or emotion; Emily might one day piss one of the men off so greatly that he'd simply grab her by the neck, jerk, and end her life. Who knew of exactly what either Frick or Frack were capable when angry, intoxicated, or both?

The answer to this problem was simple: Anya. She knew that the young thing could lure Robert into a secret relationship, followed by gently prying information from him that Emily might not otherwise gain before it was too late. And it was working.

It wasn't just Robert who Emily was setting up as a source of intel, though; she had a male slave lined up to catch Victor's eye as well. He wasn't the male who'd drawn Frack's attention that first day in the Void, but he was the type of man she was certain her bodyguard would sneak away to a dark corner for a quick blowjob or ass fucking.

Her next target, of course, was Harmon. Emily knew what the Captain wanted in a playmate, of course: her. That wasn't going to happen, though, despite the fact that Emily was attracted to the tall, dark, handsome man. Still, she was sure she could find at least one of the female slaves to turn Harmon's head.

 

[KingOfNowhere]

"I've never seen space from space," Anya said when Harmon suggesting finding a place to view the void.

"It's so very different than looking up at space from planetside," he told her. "When you look up at the sky from a place like Kulur Bravo, even if you can find a place with no light pollution, you will see only a mere fraction of the cosmos that you can see from a ship out in the Void. It's incredible. I'd like to be the one to show you that if you'd permit me."

"Yes, Mister Robert," she told him with a sincere tone. "I'd like that very much. But--"

She spoke of the danger of being caught by her Lady, even reaching out to lay a hand upon his arm. He looked to the fingers ever-so-lightly caressing his hairy arm, feeling a chill run up his spine as his cock quickly completed its earlier trek to full stiffness. He told her, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that. I can take care of that."

They reached the kitchen, and Robert hoped for another moment of time alone with her. It wasn't to be, though, as Anya volunteered to both help Viola with the cleanup and the last half of the delivery. They worked close to one another, distributing the food, water, and even some packets of wet wipes and tiny towels with which the slaves could clean themselves up a bit.

Just as he realized that his time with her was over for now, Robert fell Anya's hand caress gently across his crotch. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and his manhood twitched conspicuously, even as her fingertips and palm were still cupping it.

"We'll see you again soon, Mister Robert...?" she asked as she walked away.

Robert stared conspicuously at her as she departed, forgetting that they were trying to keep this new friendship of theirs away from others. He only realized that he was staring at her when his cousin elbowed him, saying, "Settle down, boy, before the boss invites you to her stateroom and cuts off your cock with a dull knife."

The two men finished what they were doing here, including finally locating the missing bag with the badly needed medicines in it. When one of the slaves pointed out that they'd gone several hours without access to a proper toilet, Victor said he'd speak to Miss Engles about it. Robert countered that, though, saying, "There's a Hygiene Room across the passageway and forward a bit. Two at a time. Same gender. Who needs to use it?"

Nearly half of the slaves elevated a hand, with half a dozen of them standing up and hurrying toward the cousins, expressing their immediate need. Robert told Victor, "You take a pair of women to the one forward. I'll take a pair of men to the one to the rear. Let's get this done and over quickly before this room starts smelling worth than it already does."

They began taking pairs of people up or down the passageway, stressing the need for them not to fuck around. Robert said repeatedly, "You do something I don't like, I hurt you and I hurt one random person and tell them it was your fault."

The threat worked, and pair after pair of slaves took care of their bathroom needs without causing trouble. Robert had wanted to take even more at one time to hurry things up, but the bathrooms (originally meant to serve additional crew or Third Class passengers) only had two toilets and two sinks.

It took almost two hours to get all 39 of the compartment's occupants to and back from the bathrooms. Some had asked for more time in which they could clean up, but Robert told them, "Next time. Patience. We'll get all of you to a shower or a bucket of hot water at some time."

He didn't honestly know whether or not his boss was going to allow that, as they hadn't actually discussed it. But Robert couldn't imagine that Emily was going to leave these people cooped up in this room for 12 days (he didn't know it was actually 23 now) without some sort of personal hygiene time. The compartment already smelled like a sewer drain as it was.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

As the slaves were getting anxious and excited about finally being able to visit a toilet and/or clean up at a running water source, the two cousins were making arrangements to get the other to and from the Hygiene Rooms in an orderly fashion. After the last slave had had his or her turn, the question of having additional clean up time arose. Robert told the group, "Next time. Patience. We'll get all of you to a shower or a bucket of hot water at some time."

One of the males, a slender, 20-year-old with soft features and a pleasant smile -- yes, he actually smiled -- moved casually closer to Victor and made eye contact with him. He said quietly, just for Victor, "I didn't get to the toilet. I know that you were escorting the women and girls, but ... I was wondering whether or not you could take me."

He was doing his best to imply something more than peeing and washing up might happen in the Hygiene Room without actually saying something more might happen. As Victor considered the man's request, the latter whispered, "My name's Rick. Ricky is you like. My friends call me Ricky." He hesitated, then added with a sly smirk, "I'd like if you called me Ricky."

 

[KingOfNowhere]

Victor caught sight of the young man walking slowly up to him. He was handsome, slender, legal age at least but not much beyond it. The bodyguard wouldn't have called his features and face feminine, but they were soft and innocent in a way. He smiled, explaining that he hadn't yet visited the toilet. "...I was wondering whether or not you could take me."

Victor didn't conduct himself in a way that made his yearning for men over women obvious, but this young man seemed to have picked up on his preference. Perhaps Victor had been caught eyeballing a couple of the more attractive men? "My name's Rick. Ricky is you like. My friends call me Ricky."

Victor looked to his cousin, finding Robert smirking his way before turning his attention back in the direction of the young cook's assistant that the cousin obviously had a thing for. As he looked back to the young man, Victor heard him saying in almost a whisper, "I'd like if you called me Ricky."

Whistling to his cousin to once again gain his attention, Victor gestured toward the door, then in the direction of the Hygiene Room. Robert caught his message and nodded. Looking to Ricky, Victor said, "C'mon."

Outside the slave holding area, he pointed the man down the hall, then followed him from far enough behind to be ready for any questionable behavior. Nothing nefarious happened, though, and a moment later they were inside the room, just the two of them. Hoping that they were here for what he hoped they were here for, Victor said, "Take your time. Piss, shit, clean up. Whatever you need." Then hesitating, he added, "Whatever you want."