Part2: Introductions

The planet they'd chosen for their little "fishing trip" was a fairly pleasant earthlike somewhere on the ass-end of nowhere. It was also technically an imperial protectorate, but the Native Protection Agency was so chronically underfunded that those few of its officers who weren't on the take were far too busy elsewhere to really do any protecting here.

Around nine hundred standard years ago, a bunch of neo-luddites had settled there to get away from the technology poisoning the human soul. They'd done sort of okay for the first year, scrambled to survive for the next five and collapsed into anarchy and primitivism after that. By now, some of the tribes were back in the iron age, steadily climbing up the technological ladder that their ancestors had stupidly jumped off. Perfect conditions for a bit of slave-hunting.

Some tribes they'd paid off in trinkets and booze, getting them to raid their neighbors and hand them the captives. Others they'd attacked themselves, swooping in at night on silent skimmers. Most of them had posted guards but furs, leather and iron didn't do much to stop the beam of a particle rifle. One tribe had even sold off a dozen of their own in exchange for some ceraplast knives.

Over three months, their camp had steadily filled up with booty…almost five hundred grade-A cunts destined for buyers with a taste for the exotic. Most were held in large pens when they weren't being given "orientation" by the slavers, but the very best had been kept in seperate quarters and their cunts had been strictly off-limits to the men. They might have considered themselves to be fortunate to have avoided the constant rapes their sisters had to endure, but that was only because they didn't know what was coming for them. The kind of buyer who was willing to pay extra for virgins also tended to have…other special tastes.

The redhead and her little band of would-be-escapees had been part of the special stock, which made having to destroy them all the more vexing. Well, he mused, at least there was no longer any need to practice restraint around them.

He looked at them, tied to posts in the yard outside of the guard barracks.

Red, the ringleader, was short, petite and had broken the nose and two teeth of the man who'd brought her in. She'd also pulled the trigger on a stolen blaster without hesitation during her escape attempt, and it'd been a damn good thing that the IFF systems had prevented it from firing.

The girl next to her was a bit taller and a great deal more curvy. She was blonde with a bronze skin tone, an unusual combination that would probably have fetched a good price. The crew had nicknamed her "Beachball", both because she looked like she'd come straight from a resort planet ad campaign and because of the size of her tits.

Number three was "Ice". Another blonde, but that was about all she had in common with Beachball. At just barely short of 1.9 meters, she wasn't just tall for a primitive, she was pretty damn big period, and she had the sleek lines and muscle tone of a born predator. Not much in the way of tits or ass, but he knew a lot of buyers who'd have paid big for the chance to break in a "savage warrior woman".

The fourth cunt was a black-haired, dark-skinned girl from a tribe primitive even by the standards of this dirtball. Her skin was covered in intricate lines and spirals, evidence of a ritual scarification tradition. Probably off-putting to some buyers, but he knew she would also have been exotic enough to sell well anyway. To nobody's surprise, she'd acquired the nickname "Scars".

And finally there was a brown-haired girl with a winning combination of tits, ass and beauty-pageant face that would have earned her a name like "Beauty", or "Supermodel" if it hadn't been for another distinguishing trait they'd discovered during her initial checkup: Her inner cunt-lips were oversized, poking out somewhat comically from the outer labia and very visibly flapping loose when she moved. Although some buyers would probably appreciate that, it was most likely something they would have had to correct with surgery before sale, and she'd become "Flappy" by popular acclaim.

A short distance from them was another cunt, this one from the general population. She was securely restrained the way he liked to see it, with her arms bound tightly behind her back to force her chest out, but not tied to a post like the others. This one, a mousy little primitive of no particular distinguishing features, had been the real reason the escape attempt had failed.

When Red had made her move, she'd used Mousy as her scout. She'd done pretty well in scoping out the guards' patrol patterns and shift changes, and she'd probably expected to be rewarded for it by being taken along on the escape. Unfortunately, when the escape had gone down, she'd been picked out of the crowd by one of his men for another orientation session. Unable to make the rendezvous due to getting fucked raw by Kamal, a guy who'd done service in the imperial marines and had the physique to match, Mousy'd been left behind. And she hadn't liked that one bit.

Mousy, it had turned out, had a bit of a vindictive streak. And when she'd realized she wasn't going to get away, she'd apparently decided that nobody else would either…and raised the alarm herself. Needless to say, the looks she was getting from the other five were nothing short of murderous. Mousy herself displayed a mixture of smugness and growing apprehension, which showed that she wasn't completely stupid.

Kamal was present as well, along with half a dozen other guards and Cal, with her slave in tow. Cal's little pet was moaning quietly into her gag while her pussy overflowed around the jury-rigged device she was still wearing, perhaps indicating that her mistress had found a way to add that reward function after all.

Rather than her usual outfit, Calpurnia was wearing a flowing dress of archaic design, something she'd apparently made herself to a pattern out of a history book. He shook his head at the anachronistic getup. He knew what effect she was going for, but the "joke" would fly way over the heads of its audience otherwise. Oh well, he was willing to accept a certain degree of eccentricity from somebody as competent and downright scary as Cal. One of his own bedslaves was lurking in the background as well. She wasn't a recent capture but a product of several years of very good training, and she knew how to act like a piece of furniture when needed.