Chloe’s Choice

 

Chloe wept. Mistress Kara offered her a tissue, which she accepted. The four-hundred-pound woman looked across the table at her submissive slave and wife, Jo. Jo had the grace to look sympathetic, even if she didn’t share Chloe’s grief. 

“Why is it so hard?” Chloe complained. “Since those new plastic people came out all any guy wants is one. The housekeeper model can make nine-thousand different dishes and take care of your kids. The ho model one shows you a good time. The 9-year-old one looks and acts like a kid but doesn’t complain when you need a break.”

“You should get a job in advertising,” Kara joked. “You’re selling them better than the commercials.”

Mistress Kara

“Since I hit my majority I’ve been trying to get into an academy. Yanno, to get a job? I grew up here, I’m head and shoulders above the rest of those off-world girls.”

Kara doubted Chloe was head and shoulders above anyone. In stature and bearing, Chloe was among the smallest. Kara felt bad for her. At her age she should be training for a career. Instead she was moping about her girlfriend leaving her for a robot. Kara could sympathize. She had seen many friends undergo the same realization. Androids were easier than relationships to maintain.

But Kara had known Jo for a long time. For years Jo had resisted accepting a collar. Torean women were protective of their independence. It was natural, given how the laws of their world seemed designed to create an ever-slippery slope descending into a collar. Jo was now enslaved to Kara without conditions. If displeased, Kara could cook and eat her if she desired.

She wouldn’t, of course. But the possibility existed. Some remote compounds had reputations of dark secrets. Nothing confirmed. Whispered rumors in one’s ear after too much wine.

Kara was not safe. She had a career, a respectable household of slaves, and a loving wife. She was one step away from financial ruin. Her outrageous spending habits had caught up with her. She needed to sell off some capital, and she needed to do it today. The best option was Jo, but the idea was unthinkable.

The next best option were her other slaves. She had already sold her kitten, a human girl improved with surgery and sealed into a feline bitchsuit. She had sold one of her ponies and her soubrette, the latter to a debtor. The woman’s knowledge of Kara’s secrets had been the real commodity, and Kara knew it. One debt remained, but the price was enough to knock her off the pedestal she’d built.

She would fall into a collar. Jo would be sold and never seen again. Kara would be made to lose weight and kneel on the floor next to some sadist, used in a brothel until she broke.

Then Chloe had entered her life. Naive, young Chloe had reached her majority. She was fresh from a debutante ball where the school had showed her off. Chloe had several job offers , but Kara knew them to be average. The best jobs were for academy graduates: slaves trained by professionals for specific, people-oriented careers. Kara knew this. Chloe knew. Jo knew.

Kara had adopted Chloe less than a week ago. Kara’s job was to find the best possible offer for Chloe. As her patron, Kara would collect an amount large enough to get her last creditor off her back. This sale was the reason she remained free.

Up until this morning, Chloe had been in love with another girl with whom she was raised. The other girl received an android from her patron. The plastic female shell supplanted Chloe as the girl’s preferred bedmate. It could cook any dish. It was personable and sociable. It was extroverted and could host events. It did not complain.

It was, in short, everything Chloe was not. Chloe was submissive, and trained, but she did not take to the role as well as the older, more mature Jo. The best option was a remedial training course at a licensed academy, followed by her sale as a professional slave. The academy would make a pile of money. Kara would earn a tidy sum for her investment, and the creditor would be satisfied.

Chloe did not want to sign with an academy. She was too distraught. She wanted to lie in bed all day and cry. Because she was still free and had the funds to do so, crying was what she did.

Chloe lying in bed

Next to her, Kara fumed. She did not have time for this brat’s tantrums. Business had to be signed before the train reached its destination, which would happen within the hour. Kara’s creditor waited on the platform—she sent a text not five minutes ago inquiring about the debt and a gentle reminder. Kara drummed her fingers, thinking.

Across the table, Jo shifted her weight. Slaves did not sit. They stood, or they knelt. Jo stood in a relaxed pose. She had spent much of the trip on her knees with her face buried between her mistress’ legs. Sometimes her mistress had loaned her out to another passenger for an hour. Jo’s tongue and fingers were legendary among slaves; she had received informal training from an academy-graduated doll. Jo looked at Chloe with empathy. She knew what Chloe felt.

Jo had gone through similar emotions with another girlfriend. She agreed to Kara’s proposal not because she loved the woman, but because she was afraid of losing an opportunity. As androids took over the marketplace, the values of a trained slave decreased. Jo saw an opportunity to become a treasured slave attached to a woman with a great deal of power, and she took it. She didn’t want to believe Kara about the creditors. Her mistress? Poor with financial management? Unthinkable. Then she learned.

Chloe knew none of this. If she did, she would have discarded both women. It would be clear they wanted her for her sale price and nothing else.

Kara realized selling Chloe to the creditor was the best option. She knew it would not be pleasant. She did not know much about her last creditor. He worked with an unscrupulous lancer. Learning both people were men surprised her as much as anything. It made her wary. Kara was self-aware enough to recognize Torean women as being capricious personified. Torean men leveraged their masculinity for power.

If Kara did not make this sale, she would be enslaved.

Chloe blew her nose. She tossed the tissue into a garbage held by a slave about her age. She seized another tissue, but no tears came. She must have cried them all out. If Kara allowed, Chloe would head back to her private room for a day of lazing in bed and eating from a tub of chocolate icing, an expensive thing to eat given the scarce food in this part of the world.

Jo’s diet was slave feed. A basic, tasteless, watery, nutritious staple consumed by all slaves. It was purposeful in its lack of taste or texture. It seemed its designers made it as a way to torment those in slavery. Jo was still not used to it, and did not look forward to her once-a-day meal being served in a doggie dish. Kara insisted.

Jo resisted at first, until she remembered why she resisted Kara’s collar for so long. Kara was a sadist. She had a long, deep, dark streak on her soul. Kara reigned in her sadism for Jo’s sake, but she had her own needs. The dog dish was a compromise.

Jo found herself growing less sympathetic toward Chloe.

Jo, before and after accepting Kara's collar

“Slave,” Chloe addressed not the laminate-clad girl holding the can, but Jo herself. “Get me a tub of chocolate icing.”

“How are you going to pay for this, Chloe?” Mistress Kara asked. Her tone was light, her expression was not.

“You’re my patron. Aren’t you going to do it?”

“Pay for your chocolate addiction?” Kara let out a small chuckle. “I think not. I am here to oversee which career path you choose. I can’t if I spend all my money helping you get fat.”

“You’re fat,” Chloe pointed.

Jo, in the middle of leaving to obey, froze. So did the slavegirl holding the garbage. Kara said nothing. She eyed Chloe for a moment. She imagined wrapping her fingers around Chloe’s throat and squeezing. She would enjoy watching the girl’s face turn red, then purple as she struggled for air. Her eyes bulge. Her tongue loll. Her movements slacken.

“In my position, weight is an indicator of great wealth. You have none. I will not support you throwing away your parent’s remaining fortune on frivolous activities. We must decide what path you will choose today. Right now. Sit.”

Chloe gave her a look of defiance. Her eyes were red. Kara would have loved to enslave Chloe herself and tan the girl’s backside. She fantasized hearing Chloe’s screams as the girl learned what a collar meant.

Slavery was a serious subject. It was more of a commitment than marriage or any lifestyle choice. It was more permanent than a tattoo. More binding than the law. More miserable than prison. The wrong master or mistress could be torturous. All governesses trained as professional torturers, but some specialized in a slave’s breaking.

Jo returned to her place. After a moment she came around the table and knelt next to her mistress. A space had been set up next to the table for this purpose. She kept her knees together, which was against protocol, but her mistress had other concerns. She felt Kara’s hand on her head which activated her conditioning and one of her many surgeries. Jo leaned into her mistress as a warm feeling of contentment spread through her. All was right with the world.

“Chloe,” Kara said. She shook her head once. “No.”

Chloe glared at the table.

Kara raised her eyes to the waiting attendant. This girl was clad in a maid’s costume, with her top transparent. Two pierced nipples were on full display. Kara felt bad for her. It used to be this girl was a servant of the train. Her body was off-limits for uses like this. The advent of androids had reduced her value, because androids performed the same functions without complaining or things like paychecks. Now, this slavegirl’s body could be rented. Little was off-limits.

“Slavegirl,” Kara said, drawing her attention. “You’re dismissed. Report two infractions to your supervisor, then return and show me the results.”

“Yes, mistress.” The slavegirl performed a full reverence, which was a Torean curtsey. Then she scurried back to the staff cars at the front of the train.

Jo buried her face in Kara’s meaty thigh. Kara ignored her.

“Why can’t I find a good partner?” Chloe complained. “Why am I—”

“Not good enough?” someone said.

All three women turned their heads. A man sat in a table on the other side of the aisle. His suit was off-world cloth, not laminate, indicating he was an off-worlder. Kara could tell at a glance it was one of the nicer suits. The man had no slave waiting on him. He wore no collar, indicating he was a free sire.

Master Penrow

His clothing was impeccable, his beard trimmed, but his hair was a mess. He had thick, brown curls growing to the side of his head and behind. It was bedhead. The back of his head had hair mashed upward. The left and right sides looked like so many little horns. Intentional ugliness was rare, but never without purpose. Kara wondered.

“Sorry,” the man said. “Couldn’t help but overhear. Androids, right?”

“Yes.” Chloe dabbed her face.

“You’re upset a partner chose a machine over you, right? I get it. Finding love is hard enough as it is. How can one compete with perfection?”

“Exactly!” Chloe seized. “People think a robot can solve all their problems. But they can’t.”

“I think it goes the other way,” the guy said. “People are hard. Relationships are hard. They take work. Like working out. The ‘e’ word. Effort. Easier to buy a partner who can fulfill one’s desires without any of the hassle.” He looked sad.

“What book are you reading?” Kara asked.

“Jane Eyre,” the guy said with caution. “For the second time. It’s a classic. One of my favorites.”

“Mine too.” Chloe scrubbed her eyes. “Fave part?”

“Hmm.” The guy glanced at Kara’s calculating face, as if asking permission. “When she goes to live with him in France.”

Chloe frowned. “She refuses because it conflicts with her values. She stays in England.”

“Yes.” The guy smiled. “You have read it. Yeah, she refuses the first proposal. They both grow as people. By the time of his second proposal, he’s been freed from his marriage and humbled. She’s financially independent but stays with him. They live happily ever after. I once had a professor who said it should be required reading for all teenage girls. I thought teenage boys should too.” He laughed.

Chloe still pouted, but her interest was piqued.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“I didn’t give it. Sorry. I read a lot of classical literature. Books on fairies always say never to give your name or anything about yourself to a fairy. They’ll take it and you’ll lose it. You can tell a fairy your name. But never give a fairy your name. My name is—”

“Attention,” the intercom blared. “May I have your attention please. We will be arriving at the station in twenty minutes. We are ahead of schedule. Will all disembarking passengers please prepare for departure. Thank you.”

“I’m not packed yet,” Chloe gasped.

“Ah, miss?” the guy leaned across the aisle. He extended a hand. “May I have your name?”

“It’s Chloe. Chloe Price. And yours, sir?”

“I can tell you my name but I can’t give you my name,” the guy repeated. His smile widened.

“Fine. Will you tell me your name?”

“Yes. Master Penrow.” The guy shook her hand. He went back to his book. “It was nice to meet you.”

“I need to go and uh,” Chloe looked at Kara. She rose to leave. “Get packed.”

“Run along, Chloe,” Kara replied.

Chloe left. Kara crossed her legs. She straightened her spine. She waited for the door to close to before speaking.

“She seems nice,” Master Penrow said without preamble. He put his book down. He mimicked her posture without thinking.

“She is fresh from a debutante ball.” Kara appraised him. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Is this a job interview?” Penrow scoffed. “I’m rich. I’m single. I’m a collarholder looking to start my slave household. I’ve been planetside for a while now. I’ve got a good career. And I’m in town for a few days on a business trip. Tell me about her.”

“She needs to be certain she has the best offer.” Kara was not impressed. “An off-worlder is not a viable option. If you were Torean, then I’d consider it.”

Jo cleared her throat. Kara looked down in surprise. Jo was looking at her. Her chin was lifted—a serious breach in protocol. She said nothing, she stared at her Mistress—also a serious breach. Kara made a mental note to discipline her later. Still, her slave’s gesture reminded her of their situation. Fifteen minutes away, the creditor waited.

Kara had a choice to make. She saw Jo’s big green eyes looking at her. Jo, who had trusted her with a collar. Jo, who had submitted before even beginning a proper relationship. Now Jo would be auctioned to pay her debt, and it might not be enough. Regardless, Jo would be gone. Jo’s trust, betrayed.

Those green eyes were like a dagger in her heart. “Eyes down,” Kara commanded.

Jo disobeyed. She placed a hand on Kara’s knee. She stared into Kara’s soul, and Kara saw a woman’s desperation reflected in her eyes. Kara swallowed. She made her choice.

“Chloe Price is the daughter of the Price family from a small ringdom. They have fallen on hard times. The patriarch is dead. The mother raised her alone until sending her to boarding school. Chloe is a good student,” Kara lied. “She gets good grades.”

“Looks like she’s an average student,” Penrow said. He looked at his phone. “Posts too much on social media. Low to average grades. I never understood why Toreans made one’s grades public information. Seems dystopic.”

“It is so a slave always knows her value,” Jo said. She did not look away from Kara’s face. “Debutantes are in a precarious position. Academies want them because their good breeding and trained etiquette means they take to a collar more than an offworlder. Businesses want them because of the prestige their name brings. Private individuals want them because money can be made on their sale. They are an investment.”

“I see. Thus, you’re not concerned about Chloe’s wellbeing or happiness. You’re interested in how much money you can get from her sale. She’s a thing to be sold. Whether it’s into a good career or a bad one. Happiness isn’t part of the equation. Does she know?”

“Torean women are a mixed lot,” Kara said. “There are parties. There is fashion. And boys, you know.”

“So, she doesn’t.” Penrow said. “She has no idea she’s on her way to an auction house and you’re collecting the profit. May I ask why?”

Kara would have preferred to keep the matter quiet. It was none of his business why she was cashing in her investment instead of building it up through academy training and surgical improvements. Anyone could see Chloe needed a slew of modifications to bring her up to par with the rest of the slaves. More money would be subtracted from her sale.

“No, don’t bother. Let me guess. You’re meeting with a creditor.” Penrow stowed his book. He drained his cup of golden tea, which had the effect of lowering his libido. “Do you know his name?”

“I do not.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. How much do you think she’s worth?”

“Good breeding, Torean born. A young female.”

“But no Academy training,” Penrow pointed.

“Academy training isn’t everything,” Jo interrupted.

Kara’s blood boiled.

“I’m sorry,” Penrow looked down at the kneeling slave. “Who are you?”

“This is Jo,” Kara placed a finger against Jo’s lips before the other woman could speak. “My slave. Whom has earned a severe caning for three infractions. Eyes down, little slut.”

Jo lowered her eyes. Her face slipped into a demure mask. She placed both hands on her knees and straightened her back.

Kara was furious. Jo had embarrassed her not once, not twice, but three times in front of a master. This last infraction was the most serious. She thought she knew the sort of punishment Jo merited. But first, discipline. She raised her leg. She placed her boot on the top of Jo’s head and pressed down. She pushed the unresisting slave’s face to the floor. Kara ground the heel of her boot into Jo’s head.

“Kiss the floor and think about what you’ve done,” Kara ordered.

Jo turned her head to the side. In full view of everyone, her lips puckered. She pressed them both to the floor and kept them there, while Kara pressed more of her weight into Jo’s head. Jo grunted.

Behind them, the door opened. Penrow registered a pair of light footsteps scurrying like a mouse. The door closed.

“So,” Kara turned back to Penrow. “Academy training. No, Chloe doesn’t have any, but it is an asset not a liability. She is flexible. She can be trained to perform any role or function. She has good grades, and she has a good name. Keeping a Price on a leash will reflect well of you.”

“Maybe.” Penrow slouched low in his seat. “But flexibility is expensive. See, a slave Chloe’s age might be good for anything. But you and I both know it’s not the training, it’s the improvements she needs. Those get to be expensive. Meaning Chloe has one or two possible career tracks. Neither desirable.”

“An untrained, unimproved debutante is worth a lot of credits.”

“I disagree. Not as much as an improved debutante. Chloe might end up as someone’s pet or

horse. Option two, a brothel buys her for the honor of having a Price service the clients.”

He paused to look out the window. “But maybe you’re right. I am an offworlder. You’re the native. Experienced. You both are. You both have training and modifications. It’s clear you’re on the verge of a collar, otherwise you wouldn’t be selling Chloe. Either, she’s an expensive investment and the two of you are cheap, but experienced slaves. Or, Chloe is a cheap brat and the two of you are expensive, experienced slaves.”

Kara was afraid of this. She felt Jo tense.

“May I ask what business you have in town?” Kara said, forestalling the inevitable.

“I’m meeting with a creditor, who may have some information I’d like to buy.” Penrow gave her a sidelong look. “He sent me a message a little bit ago. I’m thinking he wants to do business on the platform.”

Kara swallowed. “It may be possible we are meeting the same creditor.”

“I agree.”

“My slave and I are not for sale. But perhaps we can come to an agreement over Chloe?” Kara offered. A spark of hope burned in her chest, which she dared to capture.

“Maybe.” Penrow tapped his fingernail against the imported fine china. “The thing is, I was never good at the whole fast-talking lawyer thing. If I want to make everybody happy except the insurance company, I call my lawyer’s firm. They teleport in and shout, and then somehow we have a deal. Whether from bribes, threats, bargains, or barters, I don’t follow.”

“You’re not a lawyer?”

“I’m a designer. I make things.”

The train jostled. It slowed. Out the window, Kara saw glass-covered buildings reflecting the rising sun like walls of mirrors. The buildings blocked most of the heat, keeping the city cool. When the sun rose, the city would bake.

Penrow rose and Kara stood.

“You never told me what you do for a living,” Penrow said.

“I run a grocery chain. I’m sure by now you know Torei’s food products are limited to various lichens and a few lust-inducing plants? We import food from offworld and sell it to local customers. Diverse foods is a growing market for the middle class. Profits are incredible.”

Penrow’s expression changed. Kara saw it, but did not know what it meant. She could almost see the gears turning in his head.

“I will sell her to you for five thousand credits.”

“Not worth it.” He shook his head. “Too much training. Too much work. I don’t have enough time. I’d need a governess and a whole support staff.”

“You can have mine. I’ll throw her in for a discount, one thousand credits. You won’t find a better offer.”

“Those androids are selling whore-models for seventy-five hundred a pop. It’s not the up-front cost of a slave, it’s their upkeep. I’m paying like ten percent of their cost in food and housing each month alone. Owning a slave may be a way of life here, but in the rest of the universe, it’s a prestige thing.”

“You don’t plan on staying?”

“Wasn’t sure yet.” Penrow picked up an old fabric and leather backpack. “I’m looking for someone. They’re an offworlder, but they might be using a different name. They’ve been kidnapped.”

“They could be anywhere.” Kara let her slave stand. After moment the weight of what he said hit her. He was a wealthy offworlder who had come to Torei alone seeking someone he loved. He had one possible lead. He was looking for either his sister or his girlfriend. Given he shared Chloe’s pain, Kara decided to put two and two together and guess he was looking for an enslaved sister. One woman, who could be anywhere and under an anonymous, identity-concealing hood. “I could help.”

-

They found Chloe waiting on the platform. The girl was in high spirits, her pain forgotten. The sun was bright, the day was warm. Kara dropped a pair of heavy, bulky cases at Chloe’s feet. Jo dropped a second pair. Four more porters dropped their own pairs. Twelve cases in all, packed to bursting.

“Thank you, peons,” Chloe said graciously. “Begone.”

The slaves hastened to leave. Penrow felt bad for them. Kara sympathized. Jo empathized, because she would now be expected to somehow move all of this. Kara wouldn’t make her, would she?

The platform emptied. The people left. Three figures remained. A body with broad shoulders and a narrow waist stood at the end of the platform. He was taller than a normal Torean man. The Ministry of Improvements had augmented his height, making him stand over eight feet without highheels. His laminate suit was darker than ink. Light reflected off it in waves. On his head was a custom helmet. He had eight large lenses to see through, arranged in two vertical columns down the front of his face. On his head rose a pair of curving, twisting goat’s horns.

Flanking him were a pair of women in similar costumes, except theirs were Hi-Vis orange with yellow stripes. Both women carried staffs topped with charged steel prongs.

Kara bowed. Jo knelt. Chloe hid behind Kara. Penrow widened his stance.

The creditor approached.

“Salutations,” the creditor said. His deep voice was like a blender trying to liquify gravel. “My name is Harbinger. I am the creditor for Mistress Kara and Master Penrow. You have a debt to pay. And you have payment for my information. Which of you would like to go first?”

Kara looked at Penrow.

“On most planets, it is considered honorable let the lady go first.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said. Kara scowled. She turned her attention to Harbinger. She saw the blood-red lenses on his helmet illuminate. His helmet was in the shape of a goat’s head. He even had hair-covered ears. Interesting and terrifying, she thought. She gulped.

Harbinger, the creditor

“Mistress Kara Evansine, of House Evansine,” Harbinger said. “Your debt stands in the amount of fifteen thousand, five hundred and twenty-two credits. Your time to pay this sum has expired. I am pleased to see you did not run; this will be noted on your bill of sale. Do you have the sum required? Or will I be forced to collar you?”

Kara reached behind herself. She seized Chloe by the wrist.

“Ow,” Chloe yelped.

Kara dragged Chloe forward and threw her at Harbinger’s feet.

“I have a uncollared debutante to trade. Her name is Chloe Price, final trueborn heir House Price. Gets good grades. Accepted into several academies for professional training. As you can see, her beauty, while unmodified, is exquisite. I have had her appraised. Market value fifteen thousand credits.”

“Lies.” Harbinger opened his mouth and screamed. Everyone jumped. “Lies. Market value, one thousand credits. Chloe Price is an investment without maturity, of poor temperament, and a free woman. One thousand credits, maximum, and—”

“Hey!” Chloe yelled. “That’s not true.”

Harbinger inclined his head, looking at her. She quailed, but to her credit, stood her ground.

“What is the truth?” Harbinger rumbled.

“My name is Chloe Price. I am the daughter of Tomas Pryce, heir to House Pryce, rulers of the ringdom of Glutchen.”

“The ringdom of Glutchen is no more,” Harbinger said. “All its people have fled. All its slaves have escaped. It exists as a failed experiment; an example slaves cannot be trusted to live without collars or restraints. Is this the legacy you wish to claim?”

“Glutchen may be gone.” Chloe glared. “But my family’s name will not be besmirched. I was born into wealth, and my position handed to me by obligation. It is true Mistress Kara has taken me under her wing, but she lied about being my patron.”

Chloe looked over her shoulder.

“I heard what you said. You’re not interested in me. You never cared about my well-being. You wanted to sell me and take the money yourself. What you should have done was take the customary ten percent and give me the rest to start life, whether as a freewomb somewhere or at the Ministry of Improvements. But you didn’t. You were going to keep it all for yourself. You bitch.”

“Language.” Harbinger screamed, an ear-splitting, screeching sound. “Language.”

“Er, right. Sorry.” Chloe jammed a finger in her ear. “Well. Whatever she told you, I’m still a freewomb under Torean law. No matter the ringdom. I’d like to represent myself.”

“Recalculating. Representation accepted. Do you have any additional information to provide?”

Chloe swallowed. She knew what he was asking.

“I come from wealth. I was raised with a solid experience of the many ringdoms’ laws. I wish to become a slave, but I have not had a chance to seek professional training.”

“Do you have any preferences regarding your final appraisal? You have a small pile hidden in one of these bags. I will allow it to be added to your final price.”

“The offworlder term is ‘dowry,’” Penrow interrupted. He moved to stand off to the side, but closer to Harbinger. “Property or money brought by a bride to her husband for their marriage. Taking everything into consideration, she might be able to find a domestic job.”

Domestic jobs were a cut above professional.

“She’s smarter than she lets on,” Penrow mused. “And Kara was right. Chloe does have a lot of potential as an investment. The right training and mods, she could be any number of things. Governess, soubrette, personal assistant, concubine. …Wife.”

The tall, demonic-looking creditor scratched the hairy chin of his helmet.

Harbinger's "helmet"

“Final appraisal: twenty-five hundred credits. Are you certain you wish not to have a patron?”

“I am,” Chloe said.

“Collar her.” Harbinger turned his head and barked at one of the guards. The woman approached with a hinged steel ring. Turning back, he said, “You are now Slave Chloe, no longer of House Price. You will be put up for auction later today. Perhaps you will make someone happy. Please indicate where you have stored your money and I will have it—”

“Harbinger.”

“Grr. What is it, Penrow?” The enormous helmet swiveled. It looked so life-like.

“I would like to buy her. Right now. Twenty-five hundred credits.” Penrow looked at Chloe and smiled.

“Whyyyy?” Harbinger droned.

“I wish to cash in on an unexpected opportunity.” Penrow gestured. “See all this luggage? This is part of her dowry. If it was me, her money would be divided between each bag in equal amounts. In addition, the items of the bags have a credit value. They can all be sold. As a slave, she might not be allowed to possess them. Her owner would. The value of the cases might equal or even exceed the money. Which means they go with her when she is sold, meaning someone must carry them everywhere.

“I know you don’t want to bother with it all. I’m guessing you don’t want to bother with her as a slave. As an investment, you’re looking for a quick profit so you can go back to your other clients. Sell her to me. I’ll take her responsibility off your hands. I get Chloe, the dowry and her cases, everything she owns, and full rights to her. No patron, no creditor. Sell her to me, and forget she was ever a problem.”

Chloe stared. Kara and Jo stared. Harbinger considered.

“You may have her for three thousand credits.”

“You’ve owned her for five seconds and you want to make five hundred credits’ profit?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Three thousand credits.” Penrow pulled up his phone. “I’m transferring the money now.”

Harbinger lifted a tablet. His hand had two fingers and one thumb. All three digits had black, oversized nails like claws.

“Payment accepted. Slave A, collar slave Chloe.”

Chloe raised her chin. She accepted the steel band without fighting. The bodyguard slave placed the collar around her neck and locked it. She stepped back. Chloe fingered the stainless steel band locked around her throat. She looked at Penrow in undisguised shock.

He smiled. He jerked his head.

Feeling like she was dreaming, she crossed the distance between them. She stopped in front of him. Her body moved on autopilot. She wasn’t a freewomb anymore. She was now a slave. She knelt on the cold cement. She looked up at the man who had become her master. He cupped her face.

“You can stand,” he said.

Chloe stood with difficulty. Every fiber of her being, her culture, history, people, training, all of it pressured her to remain on her knees. But her new owner’s gaze was warmer than the sun. She felt hot inside, hotter than the summer heat. He took her face in both hands. She closed her eyes. Their lips pressed.

The kiss went on for a few seconds. When it broke, Penrow—Master Penrow—looked at her with all the warmth she had ever wanted from a girlfriend. He took her shoulders and gently turned her around. But he did not press himself against her. She felt her heart skipping.

“Let’s see what happens to Miss Kara,” he whispered.

“Mistress Kara,” Harbinger said. “You are a full-blooded Torean, free, experienced, but a frequent debtor. Your net worth stands at three-thousand two hundred credits, plus five thousand from your household. Your business is irrelevant to me, though it may be of interest to your future owner. I will not deduct your business’s worth from your debt, as it comes packaged with you. Your total worth is eight thousand two hundred. To avoid this collar, is there anything you’d like to sell?”

Kara gulped. The terrifying, demon-goat-helmet-from-hell stared down at her. She felt nothing but wrath for Chloe, who had bartered an escape with her pride intact.

“Miss Kara?” Harbinger prompted.

Kara drew her own personal glass device. It was a torean invention. A single, small sheet of glass or plastic with rounded corners. It took the place of a smartphone. She could roll it up or fold it and stick it in a pocket.

“I have a trained ponygirl with all the modifications, a top-of-the-line harness and buggy.”

She and Harbinger tapped their devices.

“I have a courier, a rentable slave, furniture made from actual wood.” Kara rattled off a list of assets she knew had market value. She signed over her assets to Harbinger one piece at a time. Each of her slaves was a piece of her prestige, a sign of her power. She loved them. They were more than mere objects to be used.

It felt like she broke off pieces of her soul. But it was required to keep herself out of bondage. If her slaves left, she could cling to the hope she’d see them again. One day, even buy them back. But if Kara was enslaved, they were gone.

“I still have my business. I own six grocery stores. Total sum is over six hundred thousand credits.”

“I will not include your business on your personal net worth,” Harbinger said. “It is a matter for your next owner to decide.”

“If I may, Harbinger,” Penrow cut in. “The laws of this ringdom state: when factoring a debtor’s net worth, all assets must be calculated. Even her business. A judge will enforce it, and I will as a witness. What you could do is let her borrow a number of credits against her business, then pay off her debts to you now.”

“Nay, she will trade debt for debt.” Harbinger shook his head. “I require payment now.”

“You can take your payment,” Kara said. “And shove it up your—”

Harbinger screamed.

Everyone winced.

“I propose an exchange,” Penrow said.

Harbinger sighed. “What is it?”

“I will be blunt. She’s not worth much.”

“Hey,” Kara protested.

“Silence.” Harbinger held up a hand. To Penrow he said, “Continue.”

“In summary, all the money’s in the business. Now, I know you don’t consider it liquid, but here’s the thing, it doesn’t need to be. It goes where she goes. It’s attached to her name. It’s six hundred thousand credits of net worth attached to her name.”

“Another dowry.” Harbinger stroked his helmet’s hair chin. “Yes. Yes, I see. Yes. Do you wish to buy this one, too?”

“Not for what you’re asking. What I’m proposing is this. You take every asset she has except the business and sell it. Even slave Jo. Then you enslave Kara in debtor’s restraints, give her to me as a slave and Jo as a token of your appreciation. I’ll take the debt on her behalf and pay it off.”

“I find this to be an acceptable solution.” The lips of Harbinger’s helmet curved upward, but Chloe didn’t think he was smiling. “Miss Kara. I am taking your slave Jo as collateral.”

Harbinger wearing artificial wings

“NO,” Kara cried.

Jo bowed her head. She knelt before the armed guard for her collar’s digital chip to be updated.

“Everything you own now belongs to Master Penrow,” Harbinger told Kara. “You are now his slave. When the debt is paid off, perhaps he will set you free. Or, perhaps he will marry you. Kneel and accept your collar.”

“You idiot. You can’t be married to two different women.” Kara did not kneel.

The guard jammed her stun lance into Kara’s gut. Electricity arc. The woman screamed. Four hundred pounds of flesh keeled over. The guard locked a steel collar, a gag, wrist cuffs, and leg irons on her. The guard did not hogtie her, as Chloe had thought would happen.

“She’s not being hogtied?” Chloe murmured.

“Do you want to drag a 400-pound woman down the street to her apartment?” Penrow asked.

He stood behind her. Chloe should be kneeling at his feet with her hands restrained. Few masters allowed their slaves any amount of freedom out of the house. Chloe felt uncomfortable submitting to a man. She wanted her girlfriend. The simple truth was, this man had saved her from a terrible fate, and she knew it. But she needed to grieve.

“Slave Jo,” Harbinger spoke. “Your ownership has been transferred to Master Penrow.”

Jo rose from the cement. She moved to Penrow and knelt before him. He clipped a laminate leash to her collar.

“Eyes down,” Penrow told her. He clipped a leash to Chloe’s collar after a thought. He murmured near her ear. “I know this is sudden. I know you’re still reeling. I’d like to get to know you later. Do you like tea?”

“I love tea,” she said.

“Master Penrow.” Harbinger faced them. “With my other business taken care of, it is time to conduct our matter. Have you brought my payment?”

“Yeah. Do you have my information?”

“It is here.” The giant goat-head-helmet-man raised his tablet. He screamed.

“If it’s a fake or it turns out to not be worth my time, I’m going to return.”

Chloe caught the warning, but didn’t know what it meant. He couldn’t mean he’d come find the creditor and get a refund? Creditors did not offer refunds. This one terrified her.

“I assure thee,” Harbinger’s voice slipped into a foreign accent. “It is most secure.”

“Alright.” Penrow took a step forward. He lifted his tablet. Both men tapped their devices. Penrow stared at a message. Chloe leveraged her perfect vantage point to spy.

As a native torean, she could read the archaic, hieroglyphic-and-English language of High Torean. The language on the screen was incomprehensible. The picture was of a girl several years older than her, a woman. The woman had teal skin and a slight underbite, blood-red irises, and dark hair with a purple skunk stripe. Well-muscled, a bodybuilder, and covered in old scars. Beautiful, in a poisonous flower kind of way. More letters appeared.

Penrow stared at the woman’s face for a long time. Chloe stared at her butt. It was all-natural, unlike the Ministry of Improvements. Chloe would love to sink her face into those big, hard cheeks. She became conscious of her heavy breathing.

“Message received and accepted. Transferring the payment now. How much was it?”

“One million credits.”

Jo’s head snapped up. Chloe’s jaw dropped. Kara stopped crying.

“Is thou satisfied?”

“Worth every penny.” Penrow signed over the money.

“If I may, Master Penrow,” Harbinger put his tablet away. “What is thee going to do?”

Penrow put his own tablet away. He took a moment to think. He looked up at Harbinger’s face without fear. It occurred to Chloe she might be looking at a face and not a high-tech, well-designed helmet. The realization made the goat-demon-thing scarier.

“You know who I am?” Penrow asked.

“I do.” Harbinger nodded.

“Then you know what I’m going to do.”

The great, scary alien took several steps back. He bent low at the waist. He gestured for his guards to do the same.

“I will send word for the…” Harbinger’s eyes flicked to the three slaves. “For the Tourists to leave. We will not linger. I hope your mission is successful.”

“Tell everyone you know to gather their prizes and bail. And Harbinger? Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Good morrow, sir.” The terrifying monster gestured to the two guards. The three of them boarded the train. Less than a second later the conductor emerged, looked both ways, and reboarded. The train’s whistle blew. The train moved backward along the track the way it had come. In a minute, the station was empty.

“Was the the train waiting for your business to conclude?” Chloe asked.

“Mm-hmph. Jo, stand.” Penrow took the two leashes and moved around the slaves. He draped a hand across Chloe’s waist. After he released her, she shuddered.

Jo stood. She kept her chin lowered, but she shot a glance at Chloe. Chloe caught the look, but didn’t know what it meant.

“Kara,” Penrow said. “I know you’ve been dealt a bad hand. From what I understand you’re bad with money. As a successful businessman I think you’re nuts. Here’s the deal. You’re going to work for me. When you’ve paid off your debt, I will set you free.”

“What about my slaves?” Kara struggled to get up, but she couldn’t. She could roll over with enormous effort. “What about Jo?”

“When you earn enough to buy them you may do so. Until then, they stay with me.”

Kara wailed. Penrow had no pity. Chloe realized she was disgusted. Kara was supposed to be a powerful woman. A symbol of what driven toreans could achieve. She was reduced to a blubbering wreck. Even after being saved, she still whined. Chloe grew angry. A true mistress would not have bargained. A true mistress would not have accepted his proclamation. A true mistress would have fought.

But Chloe was a slave. She had seen her fate for what it was and taken control at the last moment. Kara had attempted to do the same, but she’d made a mistake. She never should have voiced her true feelings. She never should have let Chloe remain unrestrained and ungagged. Mistakes a true mistress would not have made. Chloe had her pride. Kara had nothing.

“Ladies. Please help Kara get off her fat butt.” Penrow walked past her toward Chloe’s luggage. Chloe and Jo moved to obey, but Chloe paused. She watched Penrow. He had his old backpack open, but it was much too small to hold even her carry-on.

Penrow fit the opening of his backpack around the bottom of a suitcase. Somehow the backpack’s opening seemed to unhinge like a snake’s jaw. He pushed and pushed, and somehow he was able to fit the entire suitcase into the normal-sized backpack. When it was done, the blue backpack remained as limp and empty as before.

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. Penrow repeated the… maneuver? Gesture? Event? He repeated the backpack-thing with the rest of her suitcases, one by one. Each one disappeared down the bottomless gullet of the backpack. When it was all finished the platform was clear and the backpack remained limp and flat. Chloe gaped.

Penrow walked back toward her. She realized Jo had been trying and failing to lift a four-hundred pound woman upright alone. Chloe looked at Kara’s immense size. She looked at her own skinny arms. She looked at Penrow, helpless.

“It’s okay,” he told her. Squatting, he grabbed one of Kara’s arms and slung it over his shoulder. He stood. He took almost all of Kara’s weight by himself without apparent effort. He balanced her on her feet.

Chloe and Jo stared. Kara sniffled. Chloe looked down the tracks. She wondered how much money and influence was required to halt the schedule of a ringdom-wide train. Then she wondered whether it was Harbinger or Penrow who gave the order. She thought while “Harbinger” was the monster’s real name, “Penrow” might be an alias. No. She had no doubt. She knew.

What did he say he did for a living? She didn’t know. Regardless, what did she know about him? He liked Jane Eyre. And he sympathized with her complaints against androids. Chloe fell into step behind the man, next to Jo. Kara waddled behind them both, struggling to keep up.

Chloe let her face slide into a ditzy smile. She needed to grieve for her lost girlfriend. But she also needed to plan.