Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The smell hit me first. "Is that barbecue?" Saliva pooled in my mouth at the smoky, tangy scent. "How are we having barbecue?" Before Krake could answer, my eyes took in the unexpected scene before me.

There were three long tables lined up parallel to each other, with a dozen chairs at each. Human women occupied many of the chairs. Aliens occupied the others. Whether they were male, female, or something else entirely, I had no idea. Despite their varying colors, extra appendages, and different shapes, they all wore reasonable facsimiles of human clothing. And nice facsimiles, if I was being honest. Like Krake in his pin-striped suit, I saw similar suits, and even what might have been a tuxedo.

The women, though. Well, at least I wouldn't be the only one on display! Even viewed from the side, some of the human women clearly were wearing barely-there dresses like me. A few women milled around, chatting with standing aliens. Those women also showed much more skin than cloth.

"Walk," Krake ordered, his hand pushing on my lower back. The minimal pressure made the gesture almost intimate, and I obeyed. We walked toward the table on the far right, where I could see two empty seats. As we approached, Krake spoke to the aliens we passed.

"What language is that?" I asked.

"It was multiple languages," he answered.

"You're quite multilingual," I said in response.

"That is typical for us," he replied. Arriving at the table, he pointed to one of the empty high-backed metal chairs. "Sit."

"Yes, sir." I snapped off a salute and he frowned. Whatever. Upon taking a seat, I evaluated the women at the table. There were eight of them if my quick count was correct. They were a fascinating mixture of conventionally attractive and uniquely intriguing. The brunette across the table from me smiled. Her dark hair was curled and wrapped on top of her head. She wore very light makeup and a dress that made mine look like a robe. The woman also had a fuller figure, and the dress showcased her voluptuousness to perfection. Instead of straps holding everything in place, her dress consisted of rows of small glittering circles crisscrossing her upper body. Almost like a dress made of strung-together pasties. She'd left nothing above the table to the imagination. I wasn't about to stick my head under the table to confirm, but I assumed her lady bits were similarly feeling the breeze.

"Hi, you're new," she said. "I don't remember seeing you at orientation. I'm Olive." She gave a little wave that I half-heartedly returned.

"I'm Bailey," I responded. "My arrival on the ship was unexpected," I acknowledged in a lowered voice. Her blue eyes widened almost theatrically.

"I didn't know that was possible. There was such a process to be selected." She considered my face and stared at my chest. "You're beautiful, though, so I could see making an exception."

I reddened at her frank assessment. "Selected? It's not involuntary?" This was my opportunity to quiz someone other than Krake about this ridiculous consensual sex slave trade nonsense.

Olive wrinkled her nose, highlighting a smattering of freckles there. "Involuntary? Oh, heavens no. Why on earth would it be involuntary? It's very competitive. Only a select few make the cut." She lifted her chin with pride.

"How did you find out about the… competition?" I needed to tread lightly since it hadn't been made clear whether or not the women were to know that I was a stowaway-turned-Obedient. And, technically, I hadn't made the cut yet. Krake hadn't said it, but this felt like a trial by fire. I'd burn to ashes if I failed.

"It was all hush hush," she said with a delicate laugh. "My roommate was approached by this guy who told her about it."

"She immediately believed him?" I asked, unable to hide my disbelief.

"Goodness, no, of course not." She shook her head at the absurdity. "But once he showed her his actual alien species, her mind opened quite a bit."

"I bet."

"Then he showed her some—" She pursed her lips. "—I can't remember the name, but they're like videos on a floating screen. Anyway, he showed her information about the opportunity to become an Obedient. She told me about it, with his permission. Apparently, this collection trip was for human women only, and the aliens had more leeway than normal to find candidates. We both applied. She didn't make it." Olive's eyes teared up. "She wasn't able to convince them she could be happy on an alien world."

"What did they do?" Don't tell me they killed her. Don't tell me they killed her. I chanted the words in my head.

"They wiped her memory of all the exchanges. And of me. That was the sad part."

"They wiped her memory?" I stared at her, aghast.

"Of course." She shook her head at me, probably beginning to think I wasn't too bright. "That's the only downside. You can never see your friends and family again. Their memories of you have to go since you can't ever have existed."

"You willingly chose that? Why?" I couldn't fathom such a choice. Although, a tiny voice in my head whispered, who would miss me on Earth now that I was gone?

Now Olive appeared confused. "For the same reasons you did? Money, adventure, mind-blowing sex." She giggled.

"Right." I tried to backtrack. "The money, adventure, and mind-blowing sex. Absolutely." I matched her smile and tried to piece together what I was hearing. Krake and the Collector weren't running some illicit sex trade, kidnapping women for horrible aliens around the known galaxy. "So you aren't looking to be rescued?" I asked the question in a light tone and even chuckled after, but my intent was deadly serious.

"Rescued? You're funny," she said, concluding incorrectly that I was joking. "Of course, I want to be rescued from being paid an insane amount of money to have amazing sex with a high-powered alien. Right." She giggled again.

Olive seemed so confident in her expectations and wishes.

Unless.

Maybe they were brainwashed! I didn't go to orientation. Maybe they'd been told something else at orientation and when the women arrived at the ship, they were drugged—or more likely, had information and desire implanted! If the aliens could erase memories, they surely could do that. Yeah, that seemed more likely than there being an entire selective series of events for women of Earth to choose the oldest profession on our planet for a bunch of unmet aliens.

Right?

Before I could inquire further, the smell of barbecue intensified. Several indentations in the walls shimmered and their revealed doors opened. Robots emerged, each holding trays of food. My jaw dropped open at the entire spectacle as one of the robots maneuvered to our table. They were a lustrous metal, with digital eyes in a square face. They each had four arms, which seemed handy for a server. With its dexterous arms and hands, the robot set the platter in the middle of the table before moving away.

"Holy shit," I exclaimed, taking in the beef brisket, baby back ribs, collard greens, mac and cheese, and biscuits. "It's like a summer BBQ."

"Of course it is," the humanoid alien next to Olive responded. His hands—with six smooth, nail-less fingers—steepled in front of him. He wore a suit similar to Krake, though a very light gray. He was bald, but with smooth gray skin and round eyes with gray irises and cat's eye pupils. "We want our Obedients to feel comfortable as they embark on their new lives."

"Oh, of course," I parroted back. The alien sounded male, his voice raspy with a vaguely mixed Russian and French accent. How odd.

He stared at me, not bothering to hide his appraisal. I watched his gaze start at my face and move down to take in my upper body. His eyes lingered on my exposed breasts. I almost sighed. The love of tits was apparently universal. "Stand," he said, the casual tone belying the word.

I hesitated.

Krake, who had remained silent and unmoving through all my chatter, tapped my upper thigh. When I looked his way, he jerked his head up. The intention was clear.

I stood, and the alien did as well. He offered a toothy grin, showing very sharp gray teeth. It was very disconcerting, and I failed to not shudder. If the alien noticed, he didn't seem to care.

"I am Traston. I am a—I believe the word is—merchant. I procure rare items for wealthy individuals." He glided around the table to stand next to me, where his tall, thin frame dwarfed me. "Rotate."

Despite the awkward phrasing, I knew what he wanted. Stifling a sarcastic retort again, I placed my hands on my hips, jutted them out just a saucy bit, and then twirled for the alien. Krake was watching with undisguised interest as well, I noticed when I faced him.

Cold hands grabbed my shoulders before I could complete the turn. Krake's eyes narrowed and then resumed their placid expression. Traston ran his hands along my shoulders, down my back, in and around the straps. When he reached my ass, his large hands easily cupped both butt cheeks. He squeezed hard several times before making a sound that might have signaled approval. Guess he was an ass-man, too.

I gasped when he cupped my pussy, the cold freezing me. Krake sat up straighter, but said nothing, as Traston explored the folds of my vagina from behind. I felt the chill from his fingers, though he thankfully did not penetrate me. His powerful hands spun me the rest of the way, and he stared into my eyes.

"Nice." With the one word, he released me and returned to his seat. I numbly sat in my own, trying to reconcile the idea of consent in the Obedient process with what had just happened. I certainly didn't say no, and Traston clearly knew what to expect at these meet-and-greet dinners.

Olive caught my eye, and she looked so excited for me that I second-guessed myself. Maybe the women considered Traston a good catch? I risked a glance at Krake. He remained impassive, though I thought the corner of his eye twitched.

"Very good," he said to me in a low voice, before filling his plate with the barbecue that now threatened to turn my stomach.

The rest of the evening simultaneously flew by and moved at a glacial pace. I did my best to engage the way a happy Obedient would, but my anxiety grew to towering levels.

The Collector still hadn't approved me as an Obedient. I still preferred that alternative to guaranteed death out of an airlock.

Was I prepared to be a sex submissive? I wasn't sure that's what all the aliens wanted, but it had to be close.

What if I ended up with someone like Traston? I shuddered at the thought. Although, could my reaction to him be chalked up to cultural differences? After all, Olive's and Krake's words and body language suggested Traston would be a successful match. From Traston's perspective, I was already 100% in favor of the Auction and consented to be here, groped like a piece of meat.

When Krake finally stood for us to leave, it wasn't a minute too soon.