"So it is you. Sir Wilfred. Not an Acteon knight, but an Offworlder.You picked a lousy day to buy a slave." Wilfred? Yes. An Offworlder..." she readil...y replied. Too readily.With the slave bane corrupting her mind she could do naught but obey.She felt blissful as she cooperated with the big rugged man. Hermaster. The thought should have been like cold water in the face butinstead it was fuzzy and pleasurable. She giggled, widening her legseven though a part of her was shocked. What was she. I had been told as much before by the ladies, of course, but being told by an ex-cat seemed to add weight to the compliment. ‘Well then, Priscilla: would you like me to scratch your tummy now?’ ‘MmmmmmMMMmmm!’ was the encouraging – nay, demanding – reply. So I obliged. I grabbed a firm, yet kind, hold of her, and spun her round, she obeyed – giving every indication that she did so only because she deemed the action entirely acceptable, and not through any submission on her part – and pressed. This was a relief when we were able to do this when we entered the station, getting our helmets off first before moving off in the weightlessness to find our accommodation first. We had had practice of doing this before in an aircraft quite a few times but there’s nothing like having the experience for real. We bumped about quite a bit as we had to adjust our arm, leg and body movements to be able to move about without banging our heads on pipe work. It was out of this world, (ha-ha), to float. " "I took a few courses while I was in the service. Personal reasons, but they helped my career, too." "When I was in the back of the plane, I... it was disturbing." "Like guilt or..." It's difficult to get the words out, but I finally say, "Overly aggressive fantasy." She looks at me with surprise, then quickly tries to cover that up. "Oh? Victim revenge?" Hearing it put into such a succinct term is somewhat shocking. I nod. "Sadism?" Hearing that word scares the shit out of me. I nod again..