Trannies in Space

"You weren't so bad yourself," Dekker said with a rare smile. He kissed her, surprising them both. "Take care. Thank your boss for the room and thank you for the night."

*****************

The Barnabas wasn't the newest or best freighter in the Barrens, but it was home.

The craft was shaped vaguely like a stingray minus the tail, pebbled with communications arrays and exhaust ports. It's single laser cannon, an antique, stood out from the top of the ship. It's engines were finicky but she had never failed to get him or his out of danger.

He stepped foot into decon. A tingling sensation unlike anything having to do with sex flowed over his body. Dekker waited patiently. What passed for the living area was just around the corner. He could just hear soft, wet sounds and a woman whispering. It could only mean one thing. Now impatient, he waited for the decon room's green light to blink. It did, and the tingling sensation ceased. He was now free from any diseases or pathogens he may have picked up on the planet. Eagerly, he walked through the forcefield and fumbled about with the door's lock, wanting to watch what was going on.

Arela was bent over the table, threading a leash handle through her hands, pulling whoever was on the other end of it closer. Lulu was wearing her collar, kneeling behind her mistress, her face buried deep between her cheeks, nose nuzzling Arela's asshole and lips and tongue at work on her pussy. They were both so caught up in what they were doing that neither heard him approach. Dekker made as little sound as possible and merely watched.

"Good slave. Good. Yeah..." Arela was growling. She loved having her ass eaten more than anything else, maybe even more than her pussy. It was still taboo and fun for her. A seasoned trader and sexual escapade artist like Dekker was accustomed to it, but he never failed to accommodate her when she asked for it. Arela was a tall, statuesque black woman, four years his junior, making her 36. She had lived a hard life and every day of it showed on her shapely body: a scar that twisted from the side of her neck down to her back, almost to her narrow waist.