“Lose the thong but keep the heels,” Roman said, leaning back in his chair before crossing his legs.
My heart further sank as I peeled off my skin-colored thong, which I’d also hoped would have been sufficient. The curtain of my hair falling before my face as I bent down hid my anger and distress. This wasn’t the future that I’d wanted for myself, or that I’d even been destined to. I should have been the lady of a wealthy and influential male on Guldar, not some desperate pleasure worker, enslaved to a ruthless son of a bitch, and seeking a new owner.
How low I have sunk.
Straightening up, I discarded my thong on top of the tiny pile of my clothes on the floor, waiting for him to tell me to bend over his desk or press my palms against the wall, legs spread. Lifting my chin, I stared straight ahead, keeping a neutral expression on my face. As long as he helped me save my daughter, I’d do whatever was necessary.
“Turn around, three-sixty, slowly,” Roman said, sounding almost bored.
I proceeded, feeling his burning stare on me. As much as I didn’t want him making a move on me, his apparent lack of interest or lecherous expression on his face further fueled my anxiety. Did he think me not attractive enough?
“Are the tits real?” he asked in that same factual, business-like voice, once I completed my full rotation.
“Yes,” I said, hating the slight shaking in my voice. “I’m 100% natural, no surgeries, no implants.”
“The bare pussy, is that shaved, waxed, or permanent?”
“Permanent,” I replied, trying to sound as business-like as he did.
In reality, it was a bit of a lie. Guldans didn’t have pubic hair, but he had no reason to suspect I wasn’t human.
“Very nice. You’re a stunning woman,” Roman said, his gaze slowly roaming over me, assessing. “Please answer yes or no to the following questions as to things you would consent to as part of a potential agreement. Bondage?”
“Yes.”
“S and M?”
“As long as it doesn’t scar or maim me,” I said while hating the thought of it.
“Anal?”
“If I must, yes.”
“Roleplay?”
“Yes,” I said with a shrug. I never understood the appeal, but it was usually rather inoffensive and sometimes even amusing… if not silly. “However, I am more of a submissive. I wouldn’t make too convincing of a dominatrix.”
“Mmhmm,” Roman said absentmindedly, his gaze still assessing me. “Ménage, partner swaps, gangbangs, and orgies?”
I clenched my teeth and fisted my hands, helpless rage burning again like acid in the pit of my stomach. This was all so unfair.
“Look, if it can get me out of this damn contract, I’ll chain fuck everything that moves on this space station,” I said at last, fighting against the tears that wanted to rise in my eyes. “My ideal buyer would be a single male, jealously possessive, who wouldn’t let any other touch me or even stare too intensely at me, strong enough to protect my daughter and me from those who might want to harm us, but gentle enough to never physically hurt me, and not into any kind of freaky kink or fetish. I know this is all wishful thinking, but that’s what I would want. However, I will submit to whatever will get me free of this contract within the next two years, as long as I can walk away from it mentally and physically sound.”
Roman listened dispassionately to my speech, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the top of his desk.
“How’s your deepthroat?” he suddenly asked.
“Very good,” I said with a shrug.
“Show me,” he said flatly, uncrossing his legs.
My heart sank, and I gaped at him for a second. A sense of hurt and betrayal washed over me, even though I had partially expected it. Pinching my lips, I advanced stiffly towards him, kneeled between his parted legs, and reached for the magnetic clasp of his pants. Before my hands could touch it, Roman caught my wrists, startling me. I looked up at him, taken aback by the sad, disappointed look in his eyes as he shook his head at me.
“Oh Hope, what the fuck are you doing?” Roman said in the soft voice a parent would use with a hopeless child.
“What you told me to do,” I said, confused and embarrassed.
“Get up, Hope, and get dressed.”
Humiliated, I scrambled back to my feet and quickly slipped my barely-there clothes back on, feeling completely lost.
“A broker who demands a free fuck from you just to start scouting on your behalf will screw you with more than just his dick,” Roman said in an almost paternal way that finally broke the dam as tears poured down my cheeks. “Sit down, Hope.”
As soon as I settled down, he extended a box of tissues to me and gave me a few moments in silence while I tried to regain my composure. And now, mortification joined my long list of miserable emotions.
“I understand that you feel helpless but acting out of desperation will be your continued downfall,” Roman continued with the same fatherly tone. “When you act like this, you give people permission to exploit you. And they will, any chance they can. I want to help you, Hope, but I cannot lie to you. Your case is a long shot. You are a stunning female, but gorgeous humans are a dime a dozen. And, for this market, you are already considered too old. Most buyers with the criteria you want seek females in their late teens to mid-twenties, the more exotic the better. The majority of men with the credits to buy your contract will want you to consent to questionable fetishes. I would not put you into their hands.”
“I will do anything to save my daughter,” I pleaded. “Anything. Whatever the cost to me…”
“Hope…” Roman shook his head, looking discouraged.
His broad shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head while thinking. I held my breath, begging the Goddess for help.
“Do you have any other skill that could be of interest?” the broker asked, although his face expressed that he knew better, and slowly nodded when I shook my head. “Honestly, besides Braxians and maybe a couple of the pleasure houses on Jeruna, I can’t think of…”
“Braxians are fine. I’m okay with a Braxian master,” I said quickly.
“Hope, have you met one in the flesh?” he asked cautiously. “They are massive. Their cocks could kill you and split you in two unless you are given large amounts of Denax before penetration every time. And even then, it can take up to an hour to prepare a human to receive them. Frequent use of Denax will severely affect your health. After two years—”
“I’m not human. I can handle it,” I said, interrupting him.
Roman froze, his dark eyes examining my features for the clue he might have missed as to my genetic background. Taking in a deep breath, I clasped my hands on my lap, my grip so tight my nails were digging into my palms.
“I am Guldan,” I confessed, holding his gaze unflinchingly. His eyes widened then flicked up to stare at my forehead. “Luther had my horns removed and my pointy ears clipped in order to sneak me off of Guldar among the group of slaves he had just bought from my previous master. It was supposed to be temporary. When sawn off or broken, our horns grow back. But, like with many of his promises, Luther lied. He had my roots cauterized so mine never would. After he removed the prosthetic used to hide the scars, he performed additional esthetic surgery on my forehead to make it seamless.”