Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 33

Within, long corridors opened out into sweeping, open rooms filled with milling crowds. Humans and aliens of all shapes and sizes traversed carpeted floors, in transit from place to place. Though many were dressed casually, they moved among others in uniform, shooting friendly-yet-deferential smiles to all they passed. The forefront section of the ship even contained a pool, water held below the rim by a low level, semi-permeable force field, windows looking out into the sky, offering a wonderful view to any potential swimmers.

If one were sitting in the pool now, they would hear a variety of noises echoing down from both of the adjoining corridors, flowing out from the doors that lined them and into the wider room, echoing from the vaulted ceilings.

To the trained ear, it would be a symphony of sexual pleasure.

If one were to further leave the pool and travel down the leftmost corridor, they would find a door at the end of it- steel, rather than the more welcoming wood of the other doors- with the words "Employees Only," stamped into it at roughly eye height.

Beyond that door were yet more rooms, visually less inviting than the corridor before, but this is to be expected; after all, these rooms were for employees, not guests. The employees knew why they were there, they didn't need to be courted and appeased in the same way as the people they served.

Room thirty-one was the only currently occupied room, this being the particular occupant's break time. She lay on her bed, hips scooted to the very edge, high heels on the floor, thighs spread wide almost luxuriously. Her eyes were closed, arms splayed carelessly across the ruffled, disorganized bedspread.

And her dress was hiked up around her hips, revealing her trim and dripping pussy to the man on his knees before her, himself naked, collared, and with his face buried between her legs.

She moaned as his tongue brushed gently against her clit, her back arching slightly as she let the sound trail on, encouraging him to keep up what he was doing. Feedback was important, when dealing with slaves. They needed to know from outside; it gave them less chance to do something of their own volition that might upset the paying customers.

Suddenly, something rapped on her door from outside, and immediately the woman raised her head, eyes following the sound. She frowned, and sighed almost wistfully.

'Ah, too bad about that,' She said, running a hand through the slave's hair before taking hold and pulling him off. A note of frustration edged her voice as she stood, letting her dress fall about her in a crimson wave, 'I suppose you don't get to fuck me tonight, either.'

'We're coming in for landing at Selestene!' Came a voice from the other side of the door, both female and familiar. The occupant of the room adjusted her dress at the news, checked her dark hair in her dresser mirror, since appearance was important out there on the guest decks, and huffed her way to answer the knock.

'So we're needed up front to deal with the new stock, eh Mariel?' She said to her visitor, offering her co-worker the closest she could come to a friendly smile, for a woman who had just been interrupted before her orgasm. She gestured back toward the naked man on her floor, 'Best make him available to the customers, then.'

'Yes indeed,' Mariel nodded, starting off down the corridor back toward the pool. She beckoned over her shoulder, 'Come on, Oswin. There's work to be done!'

To be continued...