" Nice, aren't they." The captain sniggered after the raspy voice from the microcom had delivered its message. Myron, the helmsman, managed a nervous ...mile in reply. The captain turned back to his console and gave his reply in the same droning voice that the NASS operator had. "We are 'Free Lunch', freelance merchant, registered in Old Eurasia, ID: 791114SVE. We carry Terran cattle the New Amazonan government. We have license to conduct trade on New Amazona."The captain transmitted the message. “Two Great Danes slamming into a young boy, its magnificent. After about two weeks of that, I started hooking him up to jumper cables, jolting him once every ten seconds for about forty minutes. Anything after that, and he’ll get numb. Then, of course, there’s the usual striping - don’t whip them too much, the judges take marks off for scars and open skin - but if you skip the flogging, they’ll lose all respect. Do you have any cock gags?” He asked, flicking the ball gag in the young slave’s. More

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