Each movement of my pelvis makes me hornier and hornier. My despair deepens as arousal climbs. The last time I climaxed was live on stage so I’d meant to masturbate yesterday night and keep down the involuntary responses of my body, but in my exhaustion last night I just dozed off. Next time I orgasm, it will probably be another one taken from me by force. Since being chained on Ja-Alixxe’s ship I’ve known my probable fate – a pussy nine-in-ten chance of rape – but I’ve never really faced that it’s really about to happen until now, standing in this frame with my breasts on show and my backside hanging out of my shorts. My refusal to consider failure had all been a defense mechanism, for if I’d accepted the inevitability of it back then I’d have gone insane and been unable to function. But here where it’s minutes away, the certainty crashes down on me. Please someone stop this, I think, anguished. Can’t someone rescue me at the last moment? That’s what happens in stories and movies. I’ve always scorned those stereotyping hero films, but today I could totally believe the girl always gets with the guy at the end of the story, because frankly, right now, I’d screw the ugliest guy in the world in gratitude for being my savior. Why won’t my protector come? Please someone come. Am I really to be left here until I’m pierced by a Hunter’s teen cock, with the moral of my personal movie being that I and every other woman in the galaxy are weak and worthless? Attempts are occasionally made to save Runners, but they never make it through the Slaver’s defense grid. No rescue mission came from Tonova to save Palonae. I can’t forget the image of what lies ahead for me - Palonae writhing under torture from those things, no bigger than thimbles. And now she hangs by me in reality, so limp in her frame she could be dead. Her wrists and ankles look bruised from fighting the ropes. Something foul is dried on her thighs, close to her vulva. A large speeder roars into camp and men jump out, ten of them, laughing and talking like they’re on their way into a bar. I see several different faction badges. I’m expecting them to go into one of the buildings but they all stop, conversation dying as cumshot they stand to stare at me here displaying my breasts. Their arrival seems to trigger something. The tension ramps even higher, for it won’t be long now. Other men begin to emerge from the buildings and gather around, slowly forming a circle with me at its center. Most of them are in the uniform I take to be Salarin’s Slaver faction. Come and watch Melena get raped, the entertainment spectacle of the year. Twenty, then thirty, then forty, all watching japanese me. Dead eyes rove over my body, exploring where hands will soon follow. I avoid returning eye contact with any of them. The atmosphere under the desert sun turns uglier and uglier. My stomach feels like a lead weight in my belly. Even Palonae senses some of it from within her well of unconsciousness and she looks up at me with dark tear-reddened eyes, and shakes her head. Oh please, oh Hardcore please, oh please, no, not this. And then Salarin reappears, head high like he’s a great statesman. I hear a murmur of expectation from the watching crowd as he strides purposefully across towards me. “The Sadist” carries objects of cruelty in his hands – a vicious serrated bowie knife, and worse – a wand like some electronic relay baton. He takes his place, standing before me again. Only inches separate us. The air was warm so her green skin was glistening with sweat, no wonder she couldn’t keep herself from rubbing up Hardcore against a passed out satyr. I found myself becoming aroused and I felt shameful as I pussy couldn’t cumshot pull my eyes off her swollen milk filled breast. When she slid them down, his member sprang out facing her. Finally the doorbell rang. She looked at him “baby it’s like pancake batter do japanese you think it will every ooze out”? This moved forward rather quickly into teen a plunging of their tongues into each other’s mouths with accompanying sounds of interest and pleasure. I didn’t get to finish. “Fred, can you take us to a high-end curio shop? “Oh fuck! John wasn't sure what to expect but it was almost anticlimactic. "Daryl."