Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You’re my heir and you need an heir of your own,” her mother said sharply. “Don’t act so ridiculously offended, Ketha—just make sure you get to that appointment at the Conception Center this afternoon. Oh, and afterwards, go pick up my new bodyslave at the Flesh Bazaar, would you? The slaver promised me he’d be ready to collect by today.”
Then she swept out of the room, leaving Ketha to stare after her in anger. She couldn’t believe her mother had drugged her!
She thinks she’s leaving me no choice, she thought, glaring at her mother’s back as she disappeared around the corner. But that’s not true. There is another choice—I’ll just ignore these urges and keep far away from the Conception Center! I’m not getting pregnant, no matter what she says!
And that was exactly what she was determined to do.
2
KETHA
However, just a few hours later, Ketha was in serious discomfort, just as her mother had promised. She felt achingly empty between her legs and even her largest flesh-toy wasn’t helping. It just wasn’t big enough! She felt instinctively that she needed something with immense length and girth to stretch her pussy—but that wasn’t all she needed. There was a deep craving inside her that seemed to be her body crying out for something.
Ketha supposed the strange yearning was due to the drugs she’d been given, which made her need male seed in her womb, just as her mother had said. But she was still determined not to go to the Conception Center.
Deliberately skipping her appointment yet again was sure to infuriate her mother—not that Ketha cared. However, since she didn’t want to get locked out of the penthouse, she decided she would do the other thing Mistress Morebutt had asked of her and go to pick up her new bodyslave at the Flesh Bazaar.
Ketha had her own ship and she had learned to fly it at an early age. She’d always been self-reliant—not wanting to depend on anyone else to take her places. Her mother called it being “headstrong and rebellious” but Ketha thought it was practical. She liked being able to leave any place at any time she wanted without having to wait for a ride and go wherever she wanted without always begging for permission.
So she flew her little racing shuttle—which had just room enough for two—over to the Flesh Bazaar.
The Flesh Bazaar was the oldest slave market in the Yonnite sector and it was where most of the discerning Mistresses got their male bodyslaves. One saw female slaves for sale there as well, but then, one saw every kind of creature for sale there, including just about every sentient species in the galaxy.
Ketha strolled through the large chamber with its vaulted ceiling, echoing with the cries of “slaves for sale!” The enormous space was dotted with square pedestals where the various slaves were displayed.
Most of the slaves were naked and already had pain collars on to keep them in line. There were Zorthian laborers with leathery green skin and bulging yellow eyes, Mis’landra milk-dancing girls who had two sets of breasts, one right under the other, all of which were constantly lactating, and Fri’drops which were excellent as severs or hairdressers, due to their eight long, flexible, tentacle-like arms. (Though they had to have a large pool to live in, due to their extreme hydration needs.)
As she walked, Ketha tried to imagine being one of the slaves up for sale. What would it be like to be stripped of your clothes and forced to stand on a stone pedestal? To have prospective buyers fondle your body and look at your teeth to determine if they wanted to buy you or not? The thought made her shiver and she felt sorry for the slaves.
Her mother treated the males who served them like dirt, but Ketha had a soft spot in her heart for them. Probably because the only kind and caring adult in her life as she was growing up had been her mother’s ancient bodyslave-butler, Speaks Softly. He had been a sweet old male who had held Ketha on his knee and told her fascinating stories of his home world of Twin Moons, where there were two males to every female and the Goddess ruled over them all with love and compassion.
Speaks, as he was called for short, was a Kindred—a race which was much prized for bodyslaves because they refused to hurt women. Any Yonnite Mistress who owned a Kindred knew she had a trustworthy male who wouldn’t try to murder her in her sleep—as many other kinds of slaves would.
Being a Kindred, Speaks had been kind and protective of Ketha—almost like a father would have been—if she’d had one. Of course, no one on Yonnie Six had a father—at least, not in the rich and fashionable circles of the Yonnite Mistresses. They all went to the Conception Centers to get pregnant with their heirs. But because of Speaks Softly, Ketha grew up liking males rather than disliking and distrusting them, like many other Yonnites did.