Chapter 55H
(Note about the relationship between the Octavia of this story and the Octavia of the Night Lord Omnibus: there is none whatsoever. I have finally started reading the Night Lord Omnibus book (thanks YaBoiAli for giving me a copy), and I'm just up to the bit where they start calling that navigator woman "Octavia" as the 8th slave of Talos. This is the biggest fluke ever. Six or so years ago when I first started writing Women of the Night Lords I didn't even know that the omnibus existed and I certainly didn't know it had an Octavia in it. I got Octavia's name from a minor character in the Hunger Games, as Octavia in this series is from the Imperium and Octavia is the most beautifully Imperial Roman name I had ever heard. (I hadn't heard the name before). It's just a colossal cosmic fluke that two female characters in two Night Lord stories have the same name. I'm actually embarrassed as it makes me look like a copycat.)
(On the similarities between the warband of Talos and the Sevenson Cartel, apart from sharing a legion they are polar opposites. The warband of Talos are a bunch of hyper nostalgic melancholy emo's who have done nothing but stagnate and die for ten thousand years, just scavenging vermin who can't even manage to get enough slaves let alone recruit new neophytes, all bitter and butthurt over the Horus Heresy that they all lived through. The Sevenson Cartel on the other hand couldn't give a single shit about the Horus Heresy, anymore than I writing this cares about what my Stone Age ancestors were doing ten thousand years ago. The Sevenson Cartel would say that the Horus Heresy was "a bit before my time grandpa" and incredibly ancient history, the Cartel warband is made up of Night Lords who are less than 400 years old in real time chronology, a splinter war band that split off from a chapter sized Night Lord warband called "the Disembowelling Knife" who themselves have stayed in real space for ten thousand years, the Disembowelling Knife feeling every one of those years, producing successive generations of Night Lords the entire time like Chads and having a great time pillaging rather than those loser emo boys. Both the Disembowelling Knife and the Sevenson Cartel don't give a single shit about the past and are young and growing and vibrant, everything that Talos' warband could have been if they stopped being massive depressed emo's thousands of years ago and actually grew their numbers. The biggest strength of the Cartel is that they literally breed and grow, they don't just sit in their dusty piece of crap strike cruiser Covenant of Blood and cry about everything falling apart without doing a thing to fix it.)
(I actually find the Night Lord Omnibus just so sad. They could be doing great things, they are free from the Imperial yolk to found their own civilisation, they could be taking slaves by the millions to populate some crone world in the Eye of Terror, making deals with the Dark Mechanicum to come to their slave planet to build all sorts of industries. They could be producing spare parts for their shitty ship to fix it, they could use their slave planet and Dark Mechanicum allies to build MORE ships, they could be capturing merchant ships to at the very least steal their navigators and best crew, they could be doing SO much if they just got over the Horus Heresy and stopped DEFINING themselves in relation to the Imperium. I like the story so far but it really is *pathetic* just how broken these emo butthurt old farts are in the Omnibus.)
Sharmaine yawned sleepily and snuggled closer to her wife Deborah in the soft ropes that bound her wrists and ankles loosely to the bed frame, Deborah likewise bound beside her.
Ahmed was currently shaving his face with the help of a hand mirror, his dark skinned face covered in white shaving cream as he shaved with a safety razor like he did every morning. Ahmed as a navy officer took his personal grooming and appearance very seriously, religiously shaving every morning and visiting a barber for a haircut every week to keep him looking as handsome and professional as possible.
It was early, Ahmed always woke early. The career naval officer made a point of waking up at 05 hundred hours every morning, 3 hours before his 08 hundred hour shift. Even here on holidays he couldn't seem to relax and sleep in, the most dependable professional motherfucker alive.
Most mornings Ahmed would spend an hour immediately after waking up getting ready and having breakfast with his two sleepy subs and the like, aided by his personal crewman Steward who did the cooking and ironing and cleaning and similar chores around the home. Ahmed would always be shaved clean and smelling nice with aftershave and in his perfectly ironed first Lieutenant uniform by 06 hundred hours, 2 hours before his shift started.
At 06 hundred hours he would either walk his two tickle slaves around the ship on their leashes or he would take them to their twice weekly morning yoga classes for an hour, making sure that they got out exercising and socialising with other women. Some mornings they stayed home, especially if anyone was not well that day, as Ahmed had common sense and was flexible. The walks in particular could be quite varied in the places they went and how long it took, sometimes only a ten minute walk, sometimes a full hour, or anything in between.
At the very least Sharmaine and Deborah would be taken out of the dungeon rooms to the rest of the home at 06 hundred hours, so that the crewman Steward personally assigned to First Lieutenant Ahmed Muhammad could clean the dungeon rooms. High ranking naval officers tended to have a lowly member of the crew serve as their personal Steward, with captains and first lieutenants in particular almost universally having a Steward, and Ahmed was no exception.
The Steward never bothered Sharmaine and Deborah, and he never entered their dungeon when they were inside. But the dungeon still needed to be cleaned so the walks and yoga classes were a nice way to fill in the time as he cleaned the dungeon.
Sharmaine and Deborah had been walked through every (safe and sensible) part of the entire Iconoclast destroyer Midnight Stalker over the years, from the hallway outside the personal quarters of the extremely amused captain all the way down to the walkways outside the barred walls of the slave pits that housed the hard labour slaves. They had visited the arms-men and ship's militia barracks, the rows and rows of huge missile pods just under the top hull on the back of the ship that served as the primary offensive armament of the ship, they had visited the engines, the fusion reactors, the hallways of the crew quarters.
The Iconoclast Destroyer was only 1300 meters long and only 400 meters wide, and, discounting the huge long radiator fin below the rear and the two secondary long dorsal radiators on the top, the ship was less than 200 meters tall (not counting the raised bridge tower and the under slung secondary engines which stuck out more than this). It was (relatively) small, somewhat cramped in some places like the missile pods and slave pits, but it still had plenty to explore, with surprisingly large empty cargo bays intended to store any plunder the ship captured in raids. The walks on their leashes with their Dom were often interesting.
(Note, I'm just guessing that those huge ass things on the top and bottom of Iconoclasts are radiators as that would actually make a lot of sense and be far less silly than anything else they could be.)
The Steward handled much of the food and toiletries and other routine item ordering chores for Ahmed's home, but Ahmed would sometimes take his subs shopping at the end of a particularly short walk, visiting the modest selection of shopping venues the ship possessed. He was generous and often spoiled them, buying them all sorts of things as he shopped for items.
By or just after 07 hundred hours Sharmaine and Deborah would be back home in their (now cleaned) tickling dungeon, and Ahmed would use the remaining time before his 08 hundred hour shift anyway he pleased. Usually he would tickle his subs for a bit, but just as often he wouldn't in favour of reading something or watching something or whatever else, just enjoying his free time getting himself in the zone to start work.
When Ahmed left for work Sharmaine and Deborah would have 8 hours of uninterrupted time together with each other in the dungeon alone. Sometimes Ahmed would bind them in X frames or other bondage for the 8 hours if he had something special planned, but more usually they were not in bondage and were free to make love and kiss and cuddle each other and spend time together, 8 hours of uninterrupted married life between the two wives before Ahmed came home to tickle the ever living shit out of them. Every last hour of their lives was accounted for.
This regimented life meant that Ahmed was also very strict about bedtime, demanding that everyone get exactly 8 hours sleep, in bed and sleeping by 21 hundred hours on the dot every night, with only the most unavoidable exceptions. The two wives always slept together in the same bed locked up in their dungeon, whilst Ahmed had his own separate bed in the home but outside the dungeon. The wives usually went to bed at least half an hour early so that they could kiss and make love with just the two of them, as they were married after all.
The wives almost never slept in bondage, the locked dungeon doors being restraint enough to hold them captive under Ahmed's absolute control even when he slept, but down on Autoclave in this tent they slept bound cause there was no locked door to keep them captive. The wives had no interest in running away and leaving their wonderful Dom, but he had a kink for keeping them locked up and they happily indulged his kink without complaint.
Ahmed the first lieutenant was a Leader with a capital L, one who genuinely leads. In most areas of life where power structures existed there were two kinds of people in authority: Leaders and human dog shit. Leaders led by example, human dog shit led by command. Leaders cared about their team and everyone in it, human dog shit cared about themself and their own ego. Leaders stood side by side, human dog shit stood apart. Leaders spoke softly and with respect, human dog shit yelled at and disrespected the people they led. Leaders saw the shared humanity in their followers, human dog shit dehumanised their followers into mere tools for their own personal benefit. Leaders were beloved and respected by their followers, human dog shit were despised and feared. This was a universal truth.
Ahmed was a Leader to his two subs, he was the boss but he stood by their sides. He listened to their words, He took suggestions without seeing it as a challenge to his authority, he did not merely dictate, he *led*, he communicated with his two subs at every stage, he included them in his plans. Sharmaine and Deborah looked up to him, not just as an authority figure but as a lover and even a friend, they felt no fear towards him, he drew them out of their shells not intimidated them deeper inside. Was it any wonder that they in turn submitted to his control so completely?
Beyond being a Leader to Sharmaine and Deborah, Ahmed as First Lieutenant was a Leader on his ship. In almost all military ships the Captain RULED the ship but the First Lieutenant actually RAN it. The first Lieutenant was also called the XO or Executive Officer, and he was responsible for pretty much everything so that the Captain had the time to rule without the tedium of doing any real actual work. The XO did all the actual hard work of Leadership, the XO dealt with everything, everything that lay people assumed a captain did was far more likely done by his First Lieutenant XO Ahmed Muhammad.
While on big battleships and cruisers it was possible to put human dog shit in charge and still have it work thanks to the sheer power of the ship and number of the crew, on a smaller escort ship like an Iconoclast Destroyer this was fatal. These small ships had little shields and even less armour, they had to be run by competent people or they would very quickly become a ripped up wreck with a dead crew.
The crew of escort ships knew that they were fragile and vulnerable, and they would MUTINY if they were led anywhere near a battle by human dog shit, not entrusting their lives to a self serving fool. The void of space was littered with the vacuum desiccated bodies of human dog shit that had been flushed out an airlock without a space suit by the mutinous crew of escorts. ONLY a Leader could earn enough trust from the crew to take one of these ships into battle, and this was ESPECIALLY important for any First Lieutenant who didn't want to go diving out an airlock, as the first Lieutenant had to relay the captain's commands to the rest of the crew.
Ahmed had survived in his position during the past months of war precisely because he was a Leader who had earned the respect of the crew. He was professional and efficient, but he listened to people and reconciled disputes. He defused conflicts and eased concerns, he took crew requests and complaints seriously, in charge but never aloof.
Sharmaine and Deborah were part of Ahmed's charm that made him so distinctive and authentic and approachable. Ahmed openly displayed to the entire crew that he had a pair of tickle slave subs, openly telling anyone who asked that he had a kink for tickling women, unapologetically and unashamedly. He regularly walked the women on leashes through the entire ship, right in front of the entire crew, smiling and waving and greeting crew members he saw.
During these walks he was approachable by anyone. Even the lowliest crew members could approach him and speak to him at this time, letting them raise concerns with the XO in this informal setting when he was still off duty. It was a little thing but it made him much more approachable than an officer on the bridge, giving him the excuse to rub shoulders with the entire crew and make himself available to all. It went a long way to making him popular with the crew.
Sharmaine and Deborah were polite during their walks but they didn't talk much, they replied if spoken to first, but they let Ahmed do most of the talking. They were on first names with some of the crew who greeted them often but they didn't stop long to chat, just long enough for crew members to raise concerns with Ahmed before he continued walking his two subs.
16500 crew members crewed the Midnight Stalker, (not even counting the considerable numbers of people who lived on the ship but weren't technically part of the crew such as the spouses and children and pleasure slaves of the crew), 16500 crew members who did more jobs than Sharmaine could count. The crew were divided into 8 hour shifts during noncombat time, with some crew shifts overlapping at the edges of the main shifts to keep vital positions manned during shift changeovers, so that at any one time approximately 5500 crew members were on duty. During battle the entire crew would be mobilised regardless of shift, giving the ship 3 times as many crew as it needed, maximising their potential.
These 5500 crew members of a given shift were mostly slaves, but a sizeable minority were free people, the crew was diverse and varied, some of them more sane than others. Together they ran and maintained the ship, doing everything, cleaning floors, inspecting machinery for problems, moving around huge missiles and ammunition boxes with the help of tug tractors. Big complex machines with lots of moving parts tended to break down without constant maintenance, and the crew tried to catch these problems BEFORE they broke down, so crew were scouring the entire ship constantly to check every single possible part that might break down before it broke.
5500 crew per shift sounded like a lot, but in a ship the size of a small city it was actually pretty modest. They had so many not just because they needed so many for the ship itself, but because of the crew too. They suffered from the paradox of extra manpower requiring even more manpower, more crew could do more tasks quicker but they also needed more personnel upkeep such as more cooks in the ship mess, more laundry staff, more petty officers and security personnel to control them, which led to even MORE cooks and the like. A sizeable minority of the crew existed simply because so many other crew existed, the catering department and ship's kitchens alone were absolutely enormous!
These people might be mostly slaves, but even slaves could mutiny if human dog shit was left in charge of them. Enough men with whips and guns could keep slaves subdued under even the biggest pile of human dog shit alive, but this wasted men that were not always available in very large numbers on a petty destroyer, men who could be doing other things if the leader wasn't such complete human dog shit. Slaves or not it was a HECK of a lot of people to be in charge of and it took nothing short of a Leader to make the most efficient use of available manpower resources.
A Leader could prevent slave mutinies from happening simply by taking the time to listen to the concerns of a lowly slave in a brief conversation, negotiating to give slaves tiny little trinkets they asked for could be a hundred times cheaper than paying men with guns to constantly beat them to submission, agreeing to remove human dog shit petty leaders that every single slave complained about was far better than letting proven human dog shit stick around to be gradually promoted even higher. Just by making even slaves feel listened to and feel like part of the team a Leader could inspire loyalty without the expense of whips and brutality.
Sharmaine and Deborah knew a great deal about their Dom's work not just from overhearing these conversations with the crew but because he spoke to them about his day, venting about shit the way lovers do. They knew that the Iconoclast Destroyer was a cheap workhorse of a ship with perpetual skilled manpower shortages, the skills shortage so bad that the ship even used literal slaves with enough skill in positions of importance, sometimes even promoting slaves to petty officers or warrant officers with more authority than some free crewmen just to plug the manpower gaps.
The Iconoclast class of Destroyer was the most common ship in almost any chaos fleet, including the Sevenson Cartel Fleet, precisely because it was CHEAP, cheap and easy and quick to build, cheap to repair, a budget warship that relied on speed and numbers and skilful tactics to win a space fight. They had cheap armour, cheap reactors, cheap weapons, cheap shields and cheap systems in general. It didn't take much to destroy them, not least because they carried so many cheap wirelessly guided missiles just under their roof plates.
In battle the Midnight Stalker formed part of a squadron of 6 Iconoclast Destroyers, designated Squadron 5 which worked with other squadrons of Iconoclast Destroyers to engage in a diverse range of battle tactics depending upon the circumstances. Generally the Sevenson Fleet relied on the big guns of the Nightmare Asylum and other big ships to destroy an enemy fleet during an engagement, and the role of the countless Iconoclast Destroyers was to support these big ships, and to harass and provoke the enemy ships so that they attacked the Destroyers rather than the big important ships.
The missiles carried in the pods built into the Destroyer roof plates were very cheap very low yield tactical nuclear missiles, they lacked all but the most rudimentary guidance systems and they relied on the Destroyer itself to remote control the missiles to their targets, with all the potential for jamming or worse remote hijacking that went with it. If the missiles hit an unshielded ship they would penetrate for a fraction of a second before detonating a small nuclear blast inside the ship, potentially very dangerous if not for the blast doors that ships routinely employed to limit such blasts to a single section.
Singularly the missiles were irritating to most warships, but enough hits could cripple even a battleship, forcing said battleships to take these Destroyers seriously enough to stop engaging the Nightmare Asylum to spare a single broadside to destroy the Destroyer lobbing nukes at them. This would instantaneously end the Destroyer in question, but it would also distract the guns of the enemy battleship hopefully long enough to buy the Nightmare Asylum time to win the battle, the Destroyer an expendable pawn to sacrifice for victory.
It went without saying that the crews of these fragile "expendable" Destroyers were less than thrilled to be used as cheap expendable distractions in battle, and free people were not exactly forming a queue to serve as crew on these ships. When young people decided on a career as a navy crewman they ALWAYS meant that they wanted to serve on a big battleship or cruiser. At best a Destroyer was usually just viewed as a career stepping stone to start a career on with the expectation of transferring to crew a "proper" ship as soon as possible, the best and brightest rarely came to Destroyers and fewer still remained a day longer than they had to.
The only exception to Destroyers having few and crap personnel was in their commissioned officer ranks. No one but no one might want to serve as the CREW of a Destroyer, but the CAPTAIN of a ship was still the Captain of a ship and bright young midshipmen and cadets flocked to these ships because it was SO much easier to climb the ranks to Captain on a smaller ship. Every young officer dreamed of being a captain one day, but on the big ships like battleships and cruisers most officers never got near command, being stuck as 13th Lieutenant for decades with 12 other officers between them and captaincy, lucky to get to even 5th Lieutenant before they retired or were killed in battle. On a Destroyer the officers were fewer and the wait for command shorter, and many a young hopeful would flock to a ship that could see them be a captain before they retired.
Crusty old farts who were happy to wait in line for decades with little initiative were the ones most likely to serve as the officers of the really big ships, but the young and the bold and the energetic flocked to the Destroyers, just as Ahmed himself had. The pay was good and the line for promotion was short and fast, men and women of true ability and leadership could become the Captain of a Destroyer before they even turned 30 if they were lucky enough. For all the problems and limitations of an Iconoclast Destroyer it was still a warship that they got to captain and many a Destroyer captain were satisfied to rise no higher, content to sail the void in their cheap but plucky ship to the day they retired or died.
Sharmaine was incredibly proud of her dynamic and bold Dom Ahmed who managed his ship's crew so well for his Captain, but she also felt sorry for him. His work was quite stressful and challenging at times due to the skilled manpower shortages. Every time a free crewman was killed or injured beyond repair or retired or transferred to a bigger ship, poor Ahmed had to somehow find a replacement. So few people enlisted to the crew and many of those who did had something wrong with them. The amount of people with Down syndrome or severe autism who made up this tiny pool of willing free volunteers was depressing, it seemed to be either them or severely troubled youth with attitude problems who showed up to any recruiting efforts.
Ahmed was a big sweetie and he would usually take on the special needs volunteers if he could, putting Down syndrome workers in low risk jobs like the catering department kitchens and pantries that had plenty of other people to help them. The autistic teenagers and adults were usually put to work in roles with minimal social interaction such as swabbing the quieter decks, and the young people with attitude problems were put in any position where they would cause the least trouble, often with mentors around them to try to coax them into being less complete sullen assholes. But you couldn't crew a ship entirely with Down syndrome adults and severe autists and troubled teenagers, and these people unfortunately formed the majority of the few volunteers.
This left slaves as the only option, and mediocre ones too as the best ones were snatched up by the Sevenson Cartel itself before the Destroyers even had a chance. The Midnight Stalker bought steadily more and more slaves just to keep the ship crewed, quickly finding those with natural ability and promoting them as needed. If this kept going then the entire ship might have nothing but slaves on board one day, and they might suddenly decide that they didn't want to be slaves anymore and simply take the ship and sail out into the Maelstrom to join another warband as freemen…
Sharmaine sighed sleepily at these thoughts, feeling so sorry for Ahmed having to deal with all these problems.
Sharmaine was naked in her ropes, as was Deborah, both of them laying on a two person folding travel bed that was little more than taut canvas on a metal frame that could be folded right up into a carry bag when not in use. The bed was cheap and had been brought down from orbit by Ahmed when he arrived on Autoclave. The wives were naked on the canvas with no sheets or bedding or even pillows, but Autoclave was so warm at all hours that they hadn't been cold.
Ahmed himself had a single person folding canvas cot of his own that he had been sleeping in, always sleeping separately from his two subs as a sign of his erotic dominance over them. He had also slept naked and he was naked right now as he shaved in the privacy of the tent, currently standing in the tent that was just higher than his head, holding a mirror in one hand and a razor in the other, periodically bending down to a small folding table that held a plastic cup of water to wash the razor in, and a second cup containing shaving cream from a spray can sitting beside it and a little shaving cream brush resting in the shaving cream cup to spread it over his face.
Sharmaine sleepily watched her handsome ass Dom shave his face completely clean, with him rubbing a small face towel over his face to remove any residual shaving cream. He then applied aftershave to his face, filling the tent with a manly pleasant fragrance. Ahmed then attended to his hair, getting it absolutely perfect with great care.
The naked man stood over his defenceless tickle slaves looking handsome as hell, his fine ass muscular body looking damn fine, his dark brown dick currently floppy but certainly not small even in this state. Sharmaine smiled up at her Dom, admiring him fondly.
"Now what should I do with my tickle slaves, all tied up in the nude looking so nice.", Ahmed asked playfully.
Sharmaine and Deborah giggled up at him in ticklish anticipation, knowing what was coming.
Ahmed leaned down and walked his fingers over both their bellies, making them giggle ticklishly in delight, squirming in their ropes.
"Not so loud girls, it's not even 06 hundred yet, you might wake the neighbours.", Ahmed hushed them.
"You the one tickling us!", Sharmaine laughed.
Ahmed paused in touching them at this, thinking for a moment, then he put collars and leashes on both of them, followed by untying them.
Sharmaine and Deborah kissed each other in morning greeting as soon as they were free, then they kissed Ahmed submissively, both of them sleepy.
Ahmed opened a suitcase and decided what his tickle slaves were allowed to wear today, pulling out many items of clothing to give them options but still dress only in something he approved of. Sharmaine looked at what was available, seeing that she was only allowed to choose between G string bikini bottoms as panties today, each with a matching skimpy bikini top as her only choice of bra. Sharmaine chuckled at her Dom but obediently chose the pair that she liked the best, feeling the string floss her ass as she pulled up the sexy undergarment.
Deborah likewise put on a fine sexy G string that looked gorgeous, and Sharmaine playfully plucked the string to flick her ass hole, making Deborah squeak and giggle. Ahmed playfully grabbed Sharmaine's bare ass cheek around her own G string, and she leaned her entire body back into him with a moan, turning her face to lick the cheek of his face provocatively, tasting shaving cream residue and aftershave.
Ahmed grabbed her voluptuous boob in a big handful with one hand, putting his arms around her possessively, and Sharmaine moaned softly as she was fondled by her Dom, still licking his face provocatively.
Sharmaine felt Ahmed's penis growing erect against her back as she continued to be provocative in only a G string, and Ahmed was starting to breathe hard as he continued to touch her body erotically.
Deborah walked up and kissed Ahmed passionately, increasing his erection, and together the two topless black women excited their Dom with tender erotic intimacy.
The G strings were soon removed again, with Sharmaine crawling on the cot on her hands and knees, Ahmed coming up behind her and putting on a condom. Sharmaine groaned as he went up her ass, doing anal.
"Yellow, I need to poop.", Sharmaine informed him.
"I can feel the poop on my Johnson, I will pull out before this gets gross.", Ahmed said, pulling out and carefully pulling off the condom inside out to contain the brown residue.
"Yellow, I need to poop now that you have disturbed it.", Sharmaine said apologetically before he could do anything else.
"You are both taking a dump in the toilet before this goes any further.", Ahmed said dominantly.
Sharmaine and Deborah submissively put on the G strings and bikinis they had chosen, and hurriedly chose gorgeous sundresses from the remaining options available, putting on sandals and saying they were ready.
Ahmed put on swimming shorts and flip flops, putting some things in a pocket but remaining bare chested. He then led them out of the tent on their leashes, pausing to lock the tent zippers closed with a combination padlock between the holes in the zip pull handles, before then taking them straight to portable toilets for a morning dump.
The tent city was almost deserted outside at this hour, but strangely it was the fading bright daylight of late afternoon, the super fast day-night cycles of this planet being very disorienting. Sharmaine could see clearly with her bare eyes, but she did still find it slightly uncomfortably bright, making her squint slightly when the bright sun reflected brilliantly off the white surfaces of tents. The Midnight Stalker might be in a Night Lord fleet but it had no Night Lords or Sevensons onboard, so it was lit normally without care for the Night Lord love of darkness.
The girls did what they needed to do in the toilet, with Ahmed himself also taking a dump, and afterwards they washed their hands well and decided that they would return to the tent to attempt anal sex again.
They were almost back to their tent when they ran into a long straight brunette haired skinny white woman with big ass fake titties, the woman absolutely sexy as hell second only to Octavia herself!, The sexy ass woman was wearing only sandals and a bikini and super dark sunglasses, with a pink champion's mark of Slaanesh on the cheek of her sexy fine white face, her tits so giant that she made even Fhimra look small!, The tits were so big that the bikini top struggled to contain them, this woman was just pure masturbation fuel!
Sharmaine had seen this woman before but had never met her face to face in conversation, she knew that this woman was someone important but she couldn't recall her name or exact position.
The woman was walking in the opposite direction on business of her own, looking to be heading for the toilets actually, and she looked like she intended to walk past without a word or a pause.
"Ah!, Chaos Champion of Slaanesh Wendy Sevenson!, I have been meaning to talk to you.", Ahmed said charmingly, clearly recognising this woman.
"I have to go take a dump so this better be quick.", the huge breasted Wendy replied in an impatient extremely erotic sounding feminine voice.
"I am First Lieutenant Ahmed Muhammad of the Iconoclast Destroyer Midnight Stalker and your girlfriend Lash said that I should speak to you about buying slaves for my ship, but it can wait if you need to go relieve yourself.", Ahmed quickly introduced.
"Walk with me.", Wendy said and the group followed her.
"Every Iconoclast Destroyer and Claymore Corvette in the entire fleet is ALWAYS asking for more slaves and more manpower, I don't know how many slaves I have sent to the escort ships already, but you guys always want more.", Wendy said as she walked.
"In particular I would like to buy some slaves as smart as Fhimra. The girl knows STC printouts by heart and she understands fusion reactors, she's a GENIUS for a girl of what?, 19?", Ahmed elaborated enthusiastically.
"Fhimra is DEFINITELY not for sale…", Wendy dismissed immediately, clearly not listening.
"I know that tickle slave isn't for sale, but I'm asking for any slaves you would be willing to sell who are equally as smart as Fhimra. Those Tzeentch tribals from that hard to pronounce planet that Daemon Princess TigerLily rules, I want some that are smart and knowledgeable about engineering or physics.", Ahmed quickly explained as they walked.
"You may RENT any that you like for as long as you like, but they are long term investments that I don't want to sell.", Wendy haggled.
"How much?", Ahmed asked seriously.
"Depends on what they are doing and how likely they are to be damaged or killed. On a Destroyer that might be blown up I think that the price would include substantial risk pay to compensate me if they die.", Wendy said shrewdly.
"How much?", Ahmed pressed.
"How much do you want them?", Wendy asked greedily.
"I want them a LOT, please name the price.", Ahmed insisted.
"20000 script per month…", Wendy began greedily.
"You must be joking!", Ahmed exclaimed at this ludicrous price.
"I thought you wanted them?", Wendy purred greedily, reaching the toilet.
"You bought them for a lasgun that cost a few hundred script tops, and you rent them for 20 THOUSAND script per MONTH!?", Ahmed said in shock at this greed.
Wendy nodded shamelessly with a grin.
"Human dog shit…", Sharmaine silently whispered to herself.
"I NEED these smart Tzeentch girls who can maintain fusion reactors. Only half our tokamaks are working now and the pirates killed some of the only crew who could fix them. I can't keep making do with Down syndrome volunteers and unskilled slaves to crew my ship.", Ahmed all but begged.
"Then pay me the monthly rent and they are yours for as long as you keep paying.", Wendy said happily and entered the portable toilet in front of her.
"Make the price something my ship can afford and that is acceptable.", Ahmed said reasonably through the closed toilet door.
"Take my offer or leave it.", Wendy's voice replied smugly.
"Can you go any lower?", Ahmed asked reasonably.
"Nope.", Wendy replied smugly.
"How much to BUY the slave outright?", Ahmed haggled.
"Not for sale, only rent.", Wendy replied.
"For that price I expect nothing short of exceptional skills.", Ahmed warned.
"If you can't afford it don't rent from me.", Wendy said smugly through the door.
"Complete and utter dog shit!", Deborah whispered in disgust.
Ahmed hushed Deborah and continued to try to get Wendy to see reason, but the bitch was mercilessly greedy.
"I will have to consult my Captain and the Chief Purser for a rent this steep per individual crewman. They might refuse.", Ahmed warned.
"That's fine.", Wendy replied like absolute corrupt self serving human dog shit.
"Tell Wendy's Domme about this, Mistress Lash seems reasonable.", Sharmaine suggested to Ahmed.
"If you try to make trouble for me in my romantic life, I will personally kill all three of you.", Wendy's voice said, suddenly deep and daemonic with rage!
"I will not stoop that low, I will find someone else who owns these Tzeentch girls. I gotta say that I'm very disappointed with this whole conversation.", Ahmed said disgustedly and walked away with Sharmaine and Deborah, all three shaking their heads at the pure shittiness they had just witnessed.
Some people in power really were just human dog shit!
***…