PRECIOUS CARGO

Copyright @1999, Maureen. All rights reserved.


Part 11

   "Perion tomorrow!" Fodessa said cheerfully, whisking her tail.
   "Solid," Caitlin responded with a weary smile as he brushed 
her magnificent fur. He'd been up with Kathryn much of the last 
day-cycle.
   "We'll meet our bodyguards at the port," the clouded leopard 
went on. "I hope Katie's ready."
   Caitlin's smile got real. "As ready as she'll ever be, trust 
me," he said, and they both chuckled.
   Then her expression went serious.
   "Caitlin, I've got to thank you. Besides being a good sub -- " 
they both grinned, Caitlin's ears dipping a little -- "you've 
been a wonder at filling in for Sidney. If we make it through 
this trip, you're welcome to be my First Mate."
   The black panther's scent took on a bright note of confidence 
as his ears perked up. "Thank you, Fodessa."
   "Oh, it's true," and a rare hint of warmth entered the clouded 
leopard's golden eyes. "You've done wonders with Kathryn."
   Caitlin grinned, moving the brush down from her neck to her 
shoulders, then, "How's Windrunner? You've been spending a lot of 
time with him."
   Fodessa's ears flattened as she felt an urge to snap at him. 
After a moment of silence, she responded, "He's doing just fine, 
Caitlin."
   She knew he'd sensed her momentary anger, and she wondered 
what he made of it. Then she wondered what to make of it, 
herself. "He's going to make a fine slave."
   She felt an ache in her belly at the thought of that -- of 
parting with the magnificent wolf. Last "night," she'd admitted 
it to herself at last -- she was emotionally involved.
   Damn, it was so *unprofessional* of her. She'd smuggled dozens 
of slaves, both male and female, from Federation worlds to new 
lives on Open Planets, and it was her normal procedure to sample 
the merchandise to her heart's desire. Always before, no matter 
how much a slave impressed her, she'd been able to send him on 
his way without regret. Permanent lovers were for canids, she'd 
always thought.
   Maybe it was the shock of losing Sidney. The red-furred dhole 
had been with her for three years, and in that time they'd grown 
close. 
   She'd never thought she'd find another sub who was as good, 
let alone better. But there was more to her attraction than that.
   She sighed, and turned her attention to another unpleasant 
subject.
   "Put the brush down for now. I've gotten a report back from 
Jegarlik."
   The brush went down on the dresser table with a click as 
Caitlin turned his full attention to her, ears perking.
   "What did it say?"
   "It's ninety-six-percent certain that someone in the Darksex 
Underground is involved. A name came up, but they can't attach it 
to a face, let alone a person."
   "Well, what's the name?"
   "Carson. Just Carson, nothing else. I don't know any Carson."
   "What else?"
   Fodessa met Caitlin's intent stare. "The street rumor mill is 
buzzing, but there's not a whole lot else that's clear. But 
whoever it is, they know a LOT. Probably fairly high up, but not 
top-level like, say, Blackmuzzle."
   Caitlin bared his teeth in a flash of white, anger touching 
his yellow eyes with fire. Fodessa echoed the gesture, feeling 
her own tail lash.
   "From the people who got hit," she went on, "he's involved in 
the Sa-Quoi and Dijjang sectors part of operations. So I'm 
probably on his hit list."
   "Let me ask something, Fodessa . . . "
   "Sure."
   "Why did Felan turn up dead, while most of them just got 
turned over to the GBM?"
   Good question, she thought. Felan had been the exception: a 
former smuggler captain, he was very near the top of the 
Underground food chain on Nikume, helping to lead the smuggling 
and sex-toy rackets there as well as being ultimately responsible 
for much of the covert organization on-planet. The civet been 
murdered in his own highly private Nikume mansion.
   He'd had a business meeting scheduled that day, but his logs 
were missing and the mansion's security monitors had nothing on 
tape. That in itself was suspicious; the murderer had probably 
wiped the equipment. Which also implied he had access to high-
tech gadgets. The bodyguard mechs had been memory-wiped.
   His throat had been slit from ear to ear. Something stirred in 
the back of Fodessa's mind, but she couldn't put her paw on it.
   She explained all this to Caitlin.
   "Jegarlik guesses he might've approached Felan with a deal and 
been refused, or that he had it in for him personally. But then 
there's this: Felan was the only victim who made more than two 
hundred thousand Galactic a standard year in the sex trade. The 
others were all smaller fry."
   She could smell the feline tension hormones in the room go up, 
way up.
   Caitlin stared hard at her, his ears flat back as far as 
they'd go.
   "You mean," he said, his smooth voice deepening to a growl, 
"you could be next."
   Fodessa nodded, feeling her throat go dry as her ears 
flattened. She felt her wildly lashing tail slap against 
Caitlin's knees, and she forced it down.
   "Yes," she said, forcing the words out, and went on to say, 
"but we're probably not in danger on Perion. Nkume is a Fed 
planet. Whoever he is, he won't find many friends here, on an 
Open Planet."
   "Are the slaves in any danger?"
   "Could be, but I doubt it. Some of the people captured were 
submissives. They were all on Fed planets, of course, but they 
also held positions in the Underground. I'll let you read the 
hard copy later."
   "I hope you're right," he said.
   Fodessa uttered a long sigh. "So do I, Caitlin. So do I."


   Windrunner lay in his tiny slave cell, staring at the view of 
space from his faux-window without really seeing it.
   An Open Planet. He'd never been on one, let alone the fabled 
Perion. He remembered the talk about it at the dinner table (when 
he'd knelt there as a living centerpiece) and felt his penis 
swell in the chastity belt, pressing against the straps. A single 
orgasm the other night hardly scratched the surface of his urge.
   Subs being "hunted" like game . . . Subs being "served up" at 
fine "restaurants" . . . Subs naked, in bondage, on public 
display almost everywhere . . . It was unthinkable. He could 
hardly stand the anticipation, the sexfear, the desire.
   He wondered if he'd be called upon to perform in public. 
Probably, he thought. He wanted to pray not, but he knew he'd be 
disappointed and unfulfilled if he weren't.
   He smiled, amused by the irony even as the conflicting 
emotions warred at him. To be a deep submissive was ever thus -- 
caught in a paradox of want-not-want.
   At least for a slave, there was no danger of giving in to 
cowardice.


   Kathryn paced back and forth in her own cell, unable to sleep.
   She didn't consider the dilemma of her conflicting emotions as 
Windrunner did. She just squirmed in their grip, overwhelmed.
   An Open Planet . . . she'd always dreamed of being enslaved on 
on, masturbated to fantasies of it. Now the prospect of it 
actually happening had her heart hammering in her throat and her 
mind drenched in sexfear, nearly drowning. Never mind that she 
had been trained; she was in near-panic.
   She would have safeworded out of it, but she couldn't. That 
was the whole point of being a slave --irrevocable consent, 
protected from any failure of nerve -- and now she cursed herself 
for signing her freedom away.
   That she'd known in advance she would regret it mattered not 
at all to her at the moment.
   Her lean, furry thighs were sopping wet with lubrication. She 
still hadn't been permitted an orgasm. Every now and then, she 
rubbed a paw over the chastity belt covering her groin.
   The room reeked of vixen sex-musk.


   The Satisfaction II glided through hyperspace, drawing ever 
closer to Perion.



Direct comments and criticism to: maureen_lcn@yahoo.com