Being a slave wasn't so bad, Emma reflected.
It had taken them a week to get to their destination - a week of no answers, but repeated rounds of intensely pleasurable mating. The men seemed to have an almost inexhaustible supply of stamina, and Emma was eager to put it to good use. They took turns both driving the caravan and ravishing the female telepath, who noted with both pleasure and dismay that the changes to her body hadn't ended. Her behind was now so firm you could bounce a penny of it, and her breasts had increased in size even more. She was so sensitive even cupping one oversized mammary was enough to make her moan and moisten. But she had little time to think about that or anything else, as most of her time was spent on her back or on her knees, attending to her captors' (and her own) desires.
When she had first reached the capital, she was frankly surprised. They were huge towers and temples, easily as big as any of the buildings back home. She had been brought to her quarters, fed and clothed, but not permitted to go anywhere. Several times a day, other slavegirls, (pretty but not as voluptously proportioned as her) would come to check on her and take her around the city. She quickly found that they were alert and attentive, but did not speak her language.
And at night...the men would come. All of them tall, bronzed and looking like Greek gods, to push her down on the bed, spread her legs and take her to heights of undreamt of pleasure. Given the desires of her new body, she could only make it through the day by satisfying herself with her fingers, so by nightfall she was practically delirious with desire.
So...being a slave meant being taken care of during the day, not having to work, having food to eat (the food, while not looking like anything at all back home, was actually pretty delicious) and then having amazing sex with handsome men. Not such a bad life after all.
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