I arrive at the shuttle station at 0600, but my shuttle does not leave until 0700.  I like to be early and be the first one to board.  I am early but not the first to board.  Seems others want to be early as well.  Being a junior officer, I have to wait until more senior officers board the shuttle.  By the time I walk into the front of the shuttle where the officers are seated, there is only one empty seat.

The seat is not exactly empty; there is a duffle bag on it.  I look at the officer sitting in the next seat, who is the owner of the bag.  She is wearing the Class A uniform of a Marine.  I look at her shoulder insignia and see she is a First Lieutenant and therefore outranks me.  She is sleeping.  

I clear my throat, and she does not move.  “Excuse me, Ma’am,” I say loud enough for her to hear.

The Marine opens her eyes and looks up at me and then her bag.  She shrugs her shoulders, picks up her bag, places it at her feet, and goes back to sleep.

“Fucking Marines,” I say to myself.  I store my bag in the overhead compartment and take a seat.

I look over at the Marine and can’t help but notice how pretty she is.  She looks to be of either Japanese or Korean descent, her long legs are stretched out in front of her, and under her uniform, her body appears to have a voluptuous figure, which is how society has deemed the perfect body type for women.  Her uniform blouse is tight against her chest to show she has large breasts.  Her hair is cut short in a pixie haircut with bangs, and the left side of her head is shaved.  She is very beautiful. 

I look over her uniform and notice on her sleeve one red hash stripe that denotes she has at least two years of service in the Marines.  I find it curious that she is only a First Lieutenant after at least two years.  She should be a captain by now.  I look at her chest, not to check out her breasts, but to look at her ribbons.  She has more than I do.

I just have one ribbon on my uniform that denotes I am a graduate of the Academy, something the Marine Lieutenant does not have.  She has several, including a combat ribbon and a Bronze Star that denotes a heroic act in combat.  I am curious about it and would like to wake her up and ask her, but I don’t.  You don’t ask that question to people who have seen combat.

The shuttle ride only takes an hour to get to the space station on the moon, where my ship and others await new crew members as well as repairs and resupplies.  I feel a moment of pity for the Marine officer, even though she seemed rude.  She must be reporting to a transport vessel that will once again take her into combat.  She sleeps the entire ride and only wakes up when we arrive at the station.

I report to my new captain, and I am excited, but I am not nervous.  There is nothing to be nervous about.  I know he will be impressed with me and my Academy records.

Why shouldn’t he be impressed by me?  The captain of the ship will look me over and see my uniform is perfect and could pass any inspection with flying colors, my academic record from the Academy speaks for itself, and during my four years at the Academy, I only received three demerits; three demerits, in my opinion I did not deserve! I am positive they were given out by the senior cadets because they were jealous of me and my intelligence and military bearing.  

Due to my brilliant academic record and my obvious military discipline, he will overlook my low physical fitness scores and the fact that I barely qualified on the rifle and pistol range.  After all, I am not some blockhead Marine whose only job is to put on body armor, be given a weapon, and be ordered to kill as many Lizards as they can.  I am an engineer and a gifted one at that, and the captain will be lucky to have me on his ship.

I expect the captain and my superior officers to be so impressed with me that I will be promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade soon and then make full Lieutenant in a year.    

I walk into his office, led by his aide.  I stand in front of his desk at attention and announce my rank, name, and that I am reporting for duty in military perfection.  He does not even look up at me.  He just makes a “give me” motion with his right hand.  I hand him my service record disk.

My first impression of my new captain is not awe-inspiring whatsoever.  He is fat, his uniform wrinkled, and he looks hungover.  He does not even look at me as he reads over my service record on his Intel Pad. 

“An Engineer?” he mutters.

“Yes, Sir,” I announce proudly.

He then looks up at me and frowns.  “All I need is another fucking engineer,” he says to himself.  “You will report to the science lab,” he addresses me.

Science lab!  There must be a mistake, there has to be a mistake.  The captain was too hungover and didn’t read my record correctly.  Even though I am a junior officer and he outranks me, I know I must correct him.

“Sir, I am an engineer, as you pointed out.  It will be beneficial to the ship if I report to engineering,” I tell him with confidence.  I know he will see I am right and he is mistaken.  “I am not qualified to work in a science lab.  I am not even a scientist.”  

The captain places his hands on the top of his desk and glares at me with angry, bloodshot eyes.  “You will report where I tell you to report, Ensign, is that clear!” he shouts at me.  “I don’t give a fuck if you are not a scientist.  I've have enough of those also.  I am sure you are qualified to clean specimen containers and sweep the floor.”

I swallow hard and frown.  “Aye, sir."

The captain mutters, “Welcome aboard” and invites me to the captain’s mess that night for dinner.  It's standard protocol for him to invite me and his other newly arrived officers on their first night aboard.  Being a junior officer, I doubt I will even be invited to his mess again.  He then dismisses me. 

The aide summons an enlisted person to escort me to my quarters.  As I follow the enlisted person to my quarters, I try and cheer myself up.  I can work in the science lab, and then they will see how intelligent I am and recognize I am a benefit to the ship, and then transfer me to engineering, where I belong.

At least my room is nice.  Unlike being stationed on a combat vessel where I would be sharing one room with three other junior officers, my quarters aboard the science vessel are a small suite.  It has a small entry room with a sofa, chair, and a table in front of the sofa.  There are two small sleeping rooms, and I have a head and a shower in my quarters I will share with another junior officer. 

After the enlisted man leaves, I notice the shower is running.  Apparently, my roommate is there.  I am again excited to meet him or her.  Maybe we can become close friends.  I carry my bag to my room and notice my other bags containing my other uniforms and some personal items are already in the room.  I start to unpack. 

I put my uniforms in my wall locker according to military requirements, and do the same with my undergarments and socks in the drawers.  I place the small box containing my sims under the mattress of my bunk.  I hide them in case we ever have a surprise inspection, like we had often at the Academy.

I should have destroyed them, but I couldn’t part with them.  Who knows, maybe we will get liberty or leave on one of the colony planets, which may have a brothel with an illegal simulator machine.  I tell myself once more, I am not addicted.

I change into my utility uniform, which I will wear most of the time.  I go back into the entry room, sit on the sofa, and wait to meet my roommate.  I don’t have to report to my duty station until the next day and will spend the rest of this day exploring the ship.

The head door opens, and I groan when I see my roommate.  She is wearing just a towel wrapped around her body.  It’s the rude Marine from the shuttle.  The towel does little to cover her body, and I get a better look at her.  She is stunningly beautiful. 

She is tall and stands about six feet; her legs are tan and athletic, and she has thick, muscular thighs, but not bulging with well-defined muscles.  Her waist is thin and her hips are wide.  Her Asian features are prominent, with exotic almond-shaped eyes.  She is a real beauty.  I decide to make the best of it, and maybe she is not as rude as she displayed on the shuttle.  Maybe she was just tired. 

I stand up and smile at her as she looks me over.  I can tell by the look on her face that she is not impressed.  I walk to her and hold out my hand.

“Hi, I’m Ensign Victoria Eavers, but my friends call me Vic,” I introduce myself.

“Lieutenant Akemi Kuribayashi,” she tells me as she walks past me without shaking my hand.

“I’m just trying to be cordial,” I tell her.  “We are going to have to live together for at least two years so we can at least be cordial with one another.”

Akemi turns to look at me and sneers.  “Look, Eavers, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on this rust bucket, and I don’t plan to be for long.  I got a job to do, and I will do it and hopefully be transferred soon.”  She emphasized my last name to tell me we are not going to be friends.

“Why are you here anyway?  This is a science vessel,” I ask her.

“Because the Fleet in their infinite wisdom has decided all ships, even non-combat ships, are to have a Marine detachment for security,” she tells me.

Marines are attached to combat ships, but I did not know they now include non-combat ships as well.

“Then why aren’t you billeted with the other Marines?” I ask, hoping there was a mistake and she or I will move to other quarters.

“Because they don’t have separate quarters for Marine officers on this ship; we have to bunk with you Navy types.  I am not happy about it either.  Let’s just make the best of it and stay out of each other’s way,” she tells me, and walks into her room. 

The excitement of my first ship duty is wearing off.  Things are not as I had imagined them to be.  I sigh and leave my quarters to explore the ship.

I have been aboard the Crick, as we call her, for about three months, and my excitement has worn off.  Things are not going as I planned.  I am still stuck in the science lab, and they have yet to see my brilliance and what an asset to the ship I will be if only given the chance.

Just as the captain predicted, I spend my days in the lab cleaning specimen containers or assisting the scientist and the assistants with other mundane tasks.  I am quite bored.  They don’t even listen to my recommendations on how I can improve efficiency in the science lab.  They don’t recognize my intellect at all.   

My quarters mate, now Captain Akemi Kuribayashi, is still a bitch to me.  Oh, how I hate her!  I gave up hope that she and I would be friends.  I tried at first, I did, but she won’t succumb to my charm.   

Kuribayashi is arrogant and thinks she is better than me.  If one can believe that a blockhead Marine would be better than me!  She acts so superior to me.  That infuriates me the most.  She is just a dumb Marine, and she didn’t even attend the Academy!  How dare she think she is better than me!

She is a slob and undisciplined.  I have to always clean up after her to keep our quarters’ inspection ready, although even after three months, we have not had an inspection, which I find disappointing.  How can my superior officers see what a great naval officer I am without an inspection?  

Even with her arrogance, lack of discipline, and her attitude of self-importance, I can’t deny that she is beautiful, and worse, she knows it.  I am sure that’s how she got promoted so fast on the ship.  I am sure it is due to her looks.  I giggle to myself when I think about it because I am positive the way she earned her promotion was by being on her knees.

She does not socialize with anyone but the other Marines.  I see them sometimes in the officer’s club, all sitting together as if they are too good to socialize with anyone who is not a Marine.  But what do you expect from a troop of baboons?  Just like the primates, they don’t like outsiders.  They are loud, drink too much, are obnoxious, and always seem to taunt Navy personnel as if they are looking for a fight.  

Kuribayashi was quick to find a lover aboard the ship.  It didn’t take her two weeks.  I was surprised by the lover she has.  I would have imagined her being with one of her fellow, brutish marines, but he isn’t.  He is a naval crewman who is slight in build and somewhat effeminate looking.  Oh, he is good-looking, but in a more feminine manner than a masculine one. 

He is also an enlisted person!  Shipboard romances are not against regulations, but an officer fraternizing romantically with an enlisted person is not just against regulations but also downright tacky.  I would never lower myself to have an intimate relationship with an enlisted person. 

She even brings him into our quarters when they fuck.  An enlisted man in an officer’s quarters is just unthinkable!

Naturally, I reported Kuribayashi.  I did the right thing and followed the chain of command. I first reported her to her superior officer, a Marine Major.  He did not care and told me to mind my own business.  I was taken aback by the lack of concern he showed about one of his officers breaking regulations, but then I remembered that Marines stuck together. 

Next, I went to the Executive Officer of the ship.  He was even worse than the Marine Major.

“You know, Ensign, if you didn't have a stick so far up your ass and learned to loosen up you may even make a few friends aboard ship,” he told me.  “Maybe you need to get fucked also and have that stick up your ass removed,” he then chuckled.  “Hell, have it replaced with a nice fat cock.  Now get the fuck out of my office.  I have a ship to worry about and don’t have time to listen to your complaints.”

I was shocked!  I could not believe he not only ignored regulations, but also how he talked to me.  When I got back to my quarters, I filed an official complaint with the captain.  Even though our captain was an undisciplined, incompetent drunk, I am sure he will take action against his executive officer.  If not, then I will file a complaint with Fleet Command.  A senior officer should never talk to a fellow officer in that manner.   

The next day, after I reported Kuribayashi’s indiscretions with the enlisted man, she confronted me in our room.  The Major told her I reported her.  She was angry and, typical of a Marine, she used violence instead of an intelligent conversation.  She slapped me so hard that I fell to the deck, and it brought tears to my eyes. 

She told me to mind my own business.  She called me arrogant and an elitist and a stuck-up bitch.  She, of all people calling me arrogant!  How dare she, when she is the arrogant one! 

She then told me the same thing our executive officer told me: I didn’t have any friends on board the Crick, and I needed to get laid.  I included that incident in my report to the captain.

Kuribayashi will get what is coming to her, I have no doubt.  I expect she will be lowered in rank and have to spend a few weeks in the brig.  While waiting for the captain to discipline her, I requested to be moved to another billet, preferably one alone.  But that was denied by the executive officer, and he even had the gall to tell me I was lucky Captain Kuribayashi tolerated me.

Kuribayashi and the executive officer were right about me not having friends.  No one on the ship seemed to like me, but that was okay.  When I went to eat in the officers’ mess, no one offered to join me, and I always ate alone.  The few times I went to the officer’s club for a drink, no one invited me to join them.

I didn’t mind.  It was the same during my four years at the Academy, and the only friend I had there was Tim.  I knew they did not like me.  They were intimidated by me.  They were intimidated by my intelligence, my discipline, and my military bearing.  I was not going to ruin my career and ambitions just to make friends.  One day they will see the asset I am to the ship.  One day in the future, when I am Fleet Admiral, they can brag about how they served with me when I was a lowly ensign.

My future comes to a crashing halt a little over six months after I first reported to the Francis Crick. I'm captured by pirates. 

We were on a survey mission in the Nemo Orionis System in the outer rims, light years from the war front.  We had a mission to survey the planet Streshan 5W8 for possible resources and colonization. 

Wanting to get off the ship for a while, I volunteered to go on a mission to the planet.  Even though I was not a scientist or a lab technician, I could help the survey team collect samples on the planet.

On the way back to the Crick, the ship was attacked by pirates.  The outer rim is a lawless place full of desperados, escaped convicts, and deserters.  They have no law, no order, and no mercy.

The goal of the two pirate vessels that attacked the Crick was not to board it, but to capture the shuttle I was in.  They were small ships crewed by only six or seven people on each one, and they knew trying to board the Crick would be suicide with the Marines stationed on board and a crew of two hundred and twelve.  But, while a small vessel, they outgunned the Crick.  The Crick was a science vessel and not heavily armed, while pirates heavily armed even their smallest ships. 

Once the Crick was driven off, the safety of the ship was the captain's first priority; one of the pirate vessels caught us in a tractor beam.  They would not destroy the shuttle.  Even though we were not carrying any valuable cargo, a Confederate shuttle would make a good prize for the pirates to sell, and so would its crew.  We would be sold and not killed if we didn’t resist. 

The Commander of the survey mission wanted to arm us and resist the pirates, and be killed instead of being sold into slavery.  He told us death would be preferable.  I disagreed, but I didn’t say anything and obeyed his orders, and he handed me a pistol.  But we never got a chance to defend ourselves. 

Pirates are not stupid, and if they can help it, they would rather take prisoners alive to be sold for profit.  Once their ship's tractor beam captured us, they pumped gas into our life support system, and we were all knocked unconscious.

I awake and find myself in a small room, lying on a small cot, stripped down to my underwear.  The palm of my hand hurts, and I look down and see it is all red and burned.  They disabled my data chip, which contains a tracking device.  I know I will never be found to be rescued.   

Almost as soon as I wake, the door opens and the pirate captain and four other men walk into the room.  They all look mean and cruel.  I tell myself to be brave and defiant. 

I'm not.  I am not a brave person.  I decide it's best for me to obey them and not resist them, and save my life.  I will accept whatever fate they have in mind for me. 

The captain looks me up and down, and two of the four men leer at me while the other two look at me with disgust. 

“If you don’t resist, then you won’t get hurt,” the captain tells me.

I sit up on the cot.  “Where’s the rest of the crew?” I ask.

“They were stupid and put up a fight,” is all he tells me, and I know they were dead. 

I assume I was separated because I was the only female on the mission.  “What...what happens to me?” I ask.  I am terrified.    

“You get sold,” he tells me bluntly. “Maybe to a whorehouse.”

“Hell, Captain, she’s too ugly to be sold to as a whore,” one of the men who was looking at me with disgust comments.  “She looks like a drowned rat.”  

The captain chuckles.  “She won’t fetch much, but it’s still a profit for us.  We’ll doll her up with cosmetics to make her face look better.  At least decent.”

“We can break her in, sir,” one who was leering at me suggests.  “Sure she’s ugly and skinny and ain’t got no tits to speak of, but we have been in space for weeks and pussy is pussy.”

I look at the captain, and he shakes his head.  “No, she is not to be touched.  We are only a few days from New Tortuga.”

“Aye, Captain,” the man who called me a drowned rat replies.

I shudder at the mention of New Tortuga.  Named after a pirate stronghold in the ancient days of Old Earth, New Tortuga is a place to be feared.  It's not a planet or even a moon.  New Tortuga is an abandoned space station the size of a small city.

It was built when the Confederation planned to colonize the Nemo Orionis System.  It was abandoned by the Confederation and became a pirate stronghold.         

I am left alone in the small room.  They bring me food and water, but I refuse to eat or drink it.  I am resolved to be defiant.  My resolve ends after the first day of my captivity, and when they bring me food and drink, I eat like a person ravished by hunger.

We arrived at New Tortuga and I was sold to a slaver.  After he stripped me naked, checked my teeth, ran his hands over my body, and looked me up and down, he offered the captain a low price.  They haggled back and forth, and the captain cursed that he did not get much for me. 

Two days later, I was standing naked except for a loincloth around my waist on the auction block with a metal slave collar around my neck.  The bidding started at a fair price according to the slaver, but no one bid on me.  Some of the crowd jeered at me and shouted I was too ugly and skinny to work the brothels, didn’t look strong enough to work labor, and some shouted I was an ugly boy with small tits and I needed to show I didn’t have a cock.

The auctioneer told the bidders I was a Confederation officer and lowered my price.  He even held up my uniform to show them.  That got some bids.  Lawless men and women would enjoy owning, humiliating, and beating an officer of the Confederation.  In the end, I was sold to a brothel owner for less than what the slaver paid the captain for me.

The slaver started to whip me for costing him money, but my new owner intervened after two lashes and reminded him he did not own me anymore.

My new owner is a woman in her sixties.  She's an obese, ugly, cruel-looking woman.  Madam, as I am to call her, led me to her establishment; she informed me I was not to be a sex worker, but instead, I was to be a maid for her brothel.  She told me I was too ugly and small to be one of her girls.   

Madam owns the finest brothel on New Tortuga and all her whores are free women and free men.  They are not slaves.  Only her workers, other maids, cooks, and servers are slaves.  Her whores came to her willingly for work because her establishment caters to the wealthy and her prices are steep.  A whore working for her can do very well for themselves under the five-year contract they have to sign to work there. 

I have been a slave for Madam for three months.  Life is not too bad under her.  I have not been beaten in two weeks.  I am a good slave and have accepted my fate in life.  I am obedient and a hard worker.  I do sometimes share Madame’s bed about two or three times a week. 

It’s not too horrible and I am now used to her pussy’s pungent smell and taste due to her age and obesity.  She is not a cruel lover and is easy to satisfy sexually.  All she has me do is use my mouth and fingers on her pussy and butthole until she cums.  After she orgasms twice or sometimes three times a night, she has me leave her bed and sleep on a small pallet in the room.  She never returns sexual satisfaction and never allows me to orgasm.

In truth, besides her not letting me orgasm, I've started to enjoy using my mouth and fingers on her pussy and butthole. It arouses me. I did learn not to beg her to let me cum after the first time I did and she used her proton whip on me. That turned me on more, but I kept my mouth shut because I had seen what Madam does with people who displease her.  

When not sleeping in her room, I have my own small room with a cot, a sink, and a toilet in it.  Madame has taken a liking to me, not just because I share her bed on occasion, but because I am a hard worker and obedient.  She is kind to me, but I don’t let her kindness fool me.  Madame can be cruel and sadistic.

Madam runs a strict house and is quick to deal out punishment if needed.   She made me watch when she caught one of the whores stealing from her.  Madame used a whip to peel the flesh off the poor girl's back.  She then denied the girl healing cream, a cream that will instantly heal most non-mortal wounds and relieve the pain.  She made the girl suffer in pain for three days before she had me apply the cream.  Madame then released the girl from her contract after she took the girl’s money she had been saving.  Last I heard, the girl sold herself to one of the less reputable brothels. No decent or free person brothel would take her in because of the brand of a thief on her cheek that Madam put there. 

My days consist of serving Madam, serving the companions as the whores are called, cleaning their rooms in the mornings or after they have serviced a client, and other various chores.  They have nicknamed me The Rat because I am skinny, ugly, and scurry about the brothel as I do my chores.

I am made to wear my uniform, which is now worn, dirty, and stained, because Madam, the companions, and the clients enjoy seeing a member of the Confederation Military humiliated.  It stinks because I am not allowed to wash it.  I stink because I am only allowed to bathe once every two weeks.  Under my uniform, I wear a chastity belt because I am not allowed to receive sexual pleasure or even masturbate.

I once asked Madam if I could be one of her companions.  I thought it would be better than being a slave, and I told her I would work for what she paid for me to settle the debt.  She just laughed at me and told me her companions are the best and most attractive on New Tortuga, and I was too ugly to be one of her girls.

The companions are indeed attractive.  The women are all beautiful and voluptuous, and the men are all handsome, masculine, and muscular, except one.  He is a beautiful, feminine boy of eighteen.  He services the male clients who are sexually attracted to other men and his type.

“Come to my office, Rat,” Madam tells me one afternoon. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” I reply.

Madam takes her private elevator to the third floor while I use the stairs.  I doubt Madam could walk up the three flights of stairs due to her obesity. 

I expect she is calling me to her office to give her a foot massage, which I do often during the day.  She will have me massage her obese, fat, ugly feet.  Afterward, Madam will have me lick her stinky feet from her swollen ankles to her fat toes.  Then she will have me lick and suck her toes. 

I walk into the office with my head down. As a slave, I am not allowed to look free people in the eyes unless ordered to.  I can see there are two other people in the room, but with my head down, I can’t see their faces.  I dare not look up and risk a lashing from Madam.  Once in her office, I kneel on the floor in front of her desk.    

“Are you sure this is the one you want?” I hear Madam ask, and I know she is not talking to me.

“Yes, I am sure,” I hear a female voice answer.

“But, darling, we can have so much better,” a man’s voice says.  “Look at her?  She is short, ugly, and filthy.”  The male’s voice is full of disgust. 

“No, she is what Selene wants,” I hear the woman say.  “We have been to the slave market and visited almost every other brothel in the city and could not find such a little, ugly creature like her until we came here and saw her.”

“I still don’t know why Selene insists on such an ugly thing,” the man says and chuckles.

The woman laughs.  “You know our daughter; she likes her ugly pets.”

“Look at me, girl,” the man orders me. 

I look up first at Madam for her permission, and she nods her head.  I look over at the man and woman and gasp.  I see the woman first, and she bears an uncanny resemblance to Captain Akemi Kuribayashi. 

She is dressed in rich, fine clothes instead of a uniform, and her silky, black hair is much longer; she appears to be in her forties, but based on her looks, she could be Kuribayashi’s mother. 

I cry out suddenly from intense pain as I feel the tentacles of Madam’s proton whip across my shoulders and back.  She carries it all the time.  Unlike the leather whips Madam uses on her companions and slaves as punishment in her “punishment room”, the proton whip sends an electric shock throughout your body and does not leave marks. 

“Show your respect, Rat!” Madam screams at me.  “You are in the presence of the Governor and Governess!” She strikes me again with the whip.

I lay prostrate on the floor, wrap my hands around Madam’s fat, swollen feet, and start kissing them.  “I am sorry, Madam, I am sorry,” I beg her forgiveness. 

As I am begging, the couple laughs at me.  “See, I told you she was just perfect,” I hear the Governess, who looks just like Kuribayashi, tell her husband.

“She is normally better behaved,” Madam apologizes for me as I continue to kiss her feet. 

She kicks me away from her.  “Sit up straight, Rat, and look at the Governor so he can see your face.”

I sit up to kneel again and with tears running down my eyes, I look at the Governor.  He is also dressed in fine clothes, and the man is very handsome.  He does not seem to fit his clothes.  He looks more like a man who should be the Captain of one of the pirate vessels.  I can tell just by looking at his handsome, rugged face that he is a man who is used to commanding others.

“Were you really a Confederation Officer?” he asks me.

“Y…yes, Sir,” I whimper out.  My body is still racked with pain from the whip.

He laughs and kisses his wife on the cheek.  “Yes, she will do quite nicely,” he tells her.  “Have her cleaned up and sent to our mansion.  Make sure she is on time,” he orders Madam.

The couple leaves the room without another word.  I am confused.  Did Madam sell me to them?  If she did, then maybe my life as a slave would improve.  I imagine being a slave to the Governor and his wife will be quite a step up for me.  Anything would be better than cleaning up after whores, especially Katrina whose specialty is to service clients who are into urination play. 

I can then impress them with my intelligence, and they will see I am worth more than a slave and free me.  Once I am a free woman again, I can make my way to a Confederation star base or planet.  I will be seen as a hero for what I had to endure and how I escaped.  I will be given medals and a promotion for sure.  Oh, I’ll praise the bravery of my dead crewmates even though they were stupid to fight back and request they also get a medal, posthumously, of course.   

“Look at me, Rat,” she orders me. “You have been sold, and I must say, I made a nice little profit off of you,” Madam tells me.

I expect her to say she will miss me and that I was a good slave, but she doesn’t.  Instead, Madam summons one of her young female whores.

“Take her and wash her well and put some cosmetics on her,” Madam tells the girl.  “Maybe some cosmetics can help hide her ugliness.  I’ll have some clothes sent to dress her in.”

Maddison, the young whore, looks at me with disgust.  “Why me?  Why do I have to touch that filthy thing?” she asks.

Maddison is eighteen and pretty, and her body is well developed.  She is new to the brothel, and that is why she was chosen to clean me.  She is also especially cruel to me.  Maddison is by far the prettiest of Madam’s female companions, and her perfect, voluptuous, slightly chubby body is highly desired by both male and female clients.  She is aware of how popular she is, so she sometimes gets mouthy with Madam.

I see Madam’s hand caressing the handle of her proton whip, and I wince.  Madam is obese, but she has the reflexes of a wild cat, and with one quick motion in the blink of an eye, she can press the button on the handle to release the three red, proton tentacles of her whip and strike. 

Maddison is aware of this and has been on the receiving end of the whip, and she quickly begs forgiveness and tells me to follow her.

None of the companions like me very much.  I suspect that they are intimidated by my intelligence, even though I am a slave, but Maddison particularly hates me more than the others.  I know it’s because she is not very bright and she is unsettled by my intellect more than the other whores.

Instead of having me use the sanitation shower, which will clean and dry my body more efficiently, Maddison has me take an old-fashioned bath in the antique tub.  Some of the girls enjoy soaking in the tub after they have been with a client, but not me.  I think sitting and bathing in your own filth is disgusting.  But I am a slave and even though Maddison is just a dumb whore she is a free woman I have to obey.

Maddison could just stand by and watch me bathe, but she doesn’t.  She takes the opportunity to torment me.  She insults my looks as she uses a stiff bristle brush to painfully scrub my body.  Her aggressive scrubbing brings tears to my eyes.  At least she refuses to touch my private area, and I can wash that part of my body myself. 

After my bath, my skin is red and I sting all over from the rough scouring. Maddison brushes my hair, making sure she pulls at the tangles extra hard, and then applies the cosmetics to my face.  Next, Maddison styles my limp, copper-colored hair. 

Katrina the Piss Whore as she's nicknamed, a nickname she's oddly proud of, brings me my new clothes to wear.  My uniform is placed in the trash incinerator.  Katrina removes my slave collar because I am no longer Madam’s slave.  The Governor and his wife will give me a new one. 

There is not much to the new clothes I am to wear.  Clothes are an overstatement.  It's just an itchy wool tunic that come about three inches above my knees.  I was told I do not need to put the chastity belt back on, which I'm glad about.  It was not uncomfortable to wear, just humiliating. 

I'm delivered to the Governor’s mansion on the other side of New Tortuga.  It's a large dwelling, and I assume that before it was abandoned by the Confederation, it was where the commander of the station and his family resided.  I'm taken inside to a large office where the Governor and his wife are sitting.  I immediately drop to my knees and prostrate myself in front of my new owners. 

They explain that I am a gift to their daughter, who is turning eighteen in a couple of days.  I am her first slave.  The Governess summon their steward and tell him to prepare me for their beloved daughter, Selene. 

I am washed again, and the cosmetics are scrubbed off my face, per orders of the Governess.  She casually mentioned I was bought for my ugly face and my scrawny body, and she did not want me even trying to appear attractive in any way.  She also laughed and added that it did not help my looks.

I am given new clothes, if you could call them clothes.  They are made of fine Nolarian Silk, but they don’t cover much.  There is no top, and the bottom is just a thong bikini with strips of fine, gossamer silk dangling to my ankles.  A new slave collar is put around my neck.

This collar is different than the one Madam made me wear.  This collar fits tightly against my throat and has a leash attached.  It’s made of a shiny, silver metal mesh.  I find out it’s a choke collar when the steward gives a tug of the leash at a certain angle and chokes me.  He is nonchalant about it, and I know he is testing the collar to make sure it fits properly.

I gasp and whimper.  He chuckles at my distress and leans down close to my head.  He has a cruel, ugly face.

“You’re an unsightly little thing, but maybe when the young mistress is bored with you, she will give you to me.  I look forward to breaking you in properly,” he whispers in my ear.  “She is easily bored with her toys.”   

Once I am dressed, the steward puts me in a cage that is used to transfer pets.  It’s cramped and so small that even my petite frame barely fits.  I kneel in the cage.  There is no room to move from that position.     

The room goes dark when a black cloth is placed over the cage.  While I can’t see, I feel the cage being moved.  I assume I am being carried to be presented to my new owner.

I feel the cage being placed on the floor, and I hear excited voices, and then the deep, masculine voice of the Governor. 

“I know your birthday and your party are not until tomorrow, my dear, but your mother and I thought you might like one of your gifts early,” I hear him say.

“Oh, Daddy, you just spoil me so much,” I hear a sweet, kind, feminine voice reply.  “Let me see!  Let me see!” The voice is full of excitement.

I squint my eyes at the sudden bright light when the cloth is removed.  I feel myself being pulled out of the cage by the leash and tumble to the floor. 

“Stand up straight,” the steward orders me, and pulls on the leash.

I stand up and put my hands on the small of my back, spread my feet six inches apart, and stick out my chest as I assume the position of a slave being presented to their owner.  It’s a position that is similar to parade rest, I was taught at the Academy, so I had no trouble getting accustomed to it.  I keep my head down and look at my bare feet. 

“She’s mine?  She’s all mine?” the young voice asks excitedly.

“Yes, Selene, she is all yours.  Happy eighteen,” I hear the Governess tell her daughter.  “But remember, she is yours, so you have to train her properly and take care of her.  Your father and I are giving you a big responsibility.”

I hear Selene give an audible sigh.  “Yes, Mother,” she replies in an exasperated voice.   

I don’t look up, I know better.  Madam trained me well and often painfully in the protocols of being a slave.  I hear the girl’s soft footsteps as she walks to me and takes the leash out of the steward’s hand.

“Look at me,” she commands me.

I look up and stifle a gasp.  Selene resembles her mother a great deal, but she resembles Akemi Kuribayashi more.  Even though she is younger, she could be Kuribayashi's twin sister.

Like Akemi Kuribayashi, Selene is tall, amazingly beautiful, has sharp Asian features, and a lovely, voluptuous body.  The only difference in their looks is that Selene’s hair is long, silky, black hair that comes down to her waist and is not cut short like Kuribayashi’s. Selene is dressed in a gossamer light blue gown that is tight across her body to show off her perfect figure. She is not wearing any undergarments, and her brown nipples are visible.

“She’s just so ugly that she is precious,” Selene tells her parents.  “I just love her!  Can I go play with her now?”

The Governor chuckles, and his wife laughs.  “Yes, but also remember you need to train her to suit your needs,” the wife reminds her daughter.  “Don’t be afraid to use the lash if needed.”

I hear a masculine laugh.  “I don’t think we have to worry about Selene being hesitant to use the lash.  She is far from squeamish,” a younger male voice says.

I cut my eyes at the voice and see three other young people in the room.  The young man who spoke is richly dressed and tall.  He is pretty, like a girl, and is wearing cosmetics on his face. He has sandy blonde hair that is long and loose.  He is slight in build, but in his tight tunic, I can tell he has a lean, muscular build.

Standing a few feet apart is another young couple.  The girl appears to be eighteen, and she is pretty.  Like Selene, she is tall and has a voluptuous figure, but is heavier set and chubby.  She has long blonde hair that hangs down in intricate braids.  She has a kind, heart-shaped face and eyes as blue as the sky on earth. She is also wearing a long gossamer gown similar to her friend's, but the blonde's is a silvery color. Her beautiful breasts are slightly larger than Selene's, not as firm. I assume that immodesty is how young women dress on New Turtoga.

Standing next to her and holding her hand is a young black man.  He is taller and larger than the blonde boy.  He is also handsome with close-cropped hair and a large, muscular body.

After I quickly look at them, I lower my gaze back to my feet.  The leash is tugged again, but this time at an angle to choke me.  I gasp and struggle to breathe.

“Look at me!” Selene shouts.  I look up.  My face is turning red, and my new mistress eases the grip on the leash so I can breathe again.  I gasp for air, and she giggles in delight at my distress.  “What’s your name?”

“Ra…Victoria, Mistress,” I tell her.  I have been called Rat for so long that my real name feels strange to say.

“Oh no, that just will not do.  That’s a proper name, and you don’t deserve a proper name,” Selene tells me, and turns her head to her friends.  “What shall I name her?”

“I don’t know, but she is a horrid-looking little creature,” the blonde girl says in disgust.

“That’s it!” Selene exclaims and turns her head to me.  “Your name is Creature,” she tells me.

“Yes, Mistress,” I reply and give my new owner a curtsy. 

“Come, Creature, we are all going to play now, and I have just the game in mind,” Selene tells me and giggles.

She pulls me by the leash, and I follow my new Mistress down the corridor and a flight of stairs.  Her three friends follow us. 

I do hope it’s a game that uses wits and intelligence and not a game that involves athletic skill.  I am not very athletic but in a game of intellect, I can impress my new owner, and maybe she will be pleased with me and see my worth.