Even with his almost hyper efficient metabolism working overtime, Jarvok could still feel the biting cold of space worming its fingers into his body. Already his outer layers of skin were frozen solid and useless, and he had been forced to disconnect the nerves to the next layer of muscles or suffer excruciating pain as each cell fought valiantly to produce enough heat to hold off the creeping chill enveloping him. It was a silent battle between the Inferus' will to survive and the void's uncaring nature of snuffing out all life.....and he was losing. Just like his cousin had. Just like every other Faceless foolish enough to test their might against the quiet inevitability of space. His mind raced for any possible solution, a plan, a trick, a new form, anything that could fight against that dreadful cold. Inside the tight confines of his ball of flesh he raged against the Ravagers, against the universe, against his father for sending him on this pointless mission, but even the fires of his anger did little to hold back the chill of space. Maybe if he....

BLINK

A frozen sphere of solid meat crashed to the ground in the engine room of the slipstream, shards of frost bitten skin shattering and sliding over the floor. Jarvok hadn't bothered to grow external eyes when there was nothing to see but darkness, so all he knew was that he collided with something and wasn't dead, both of which seemed like massive improvements over his previous condition.

"By the swarm, what the hell is that! Oh shit, its moving! QUICK turn it back on, turn it back on!"

BLINK

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Back in the cargo bay, Garlax pushed himself to his feet and looked down at the battered warrior still twitching on the ground before him. Even unconscious and caked in semen, she was still the sexiest woman he'd ever seen anywhere but a holo porn, and it looked like the rest of the crew intended to treat her like any other five credit whore. He sighed and dragged her senseless form off to the side then made his way to the supply closet with cleaning supplies to fetch a mop. It took the better part of an hour for him to scrub down the aftermath of Ash's first performance. Her thrashing orgasms had sent drops of her love juice flying farther than he'd realize, and it felt like he had cleaned up gallons of cum before his feet stopped sticking to the floor.

He distracted himself imagining how HE would have treated the unfortunate slave, how her mind would be muddled after her first pounding by the captain and looking for something to latch onto. How his skilled fingers would dig into the flesh of her soft tits and rub against the hard bud of her clit when she was at her most vulnerable, wringing from her one orgasm after another, but each time keeping her at the tip of release just a hair longer, until he was holding her at the edge for minutes at a time, begging to cum. How each time he would extract a new concession, a promise, a secret kink, an act of degradation, words of subservience. He'd spend hours, no DAYS, working on her. The collar would help reinforce the conditioning, but in the end she would break to Garlax's skill, not some mechanical toy.

Glancing over at the subject of his daydreams, he saw she still hadn't moved since dumping her off to the side. He winced when he saw the sizable puddle of seed that had leaked from her holes while he worked, knowing he'd need to clean that up as well. For now, maybe it was time to get the new slave cleaned off. He took another moment to admire her gorgeous body, the curve of her full breasts, the tone muscle of her thighs, the pink petals of her pussy lips, finally shut after being so roughly taken not so long ago. Despite being the smallest of the crew, Garlax was still a Saurian warrior, and had no difficulty at all in hefting the former warrior over a shoulder like a sack of grain and hauling her to the showers.

The Slipstream was by far the nicest ship Garlax had ever been on outside of a raid, and they hadn't skimped even in the showers. Instead of the line of communal showerheads he was used to, the warship had a circular central changing room with a dozen doors leading off in smaller bathrooms with a toilet, sink, and shower. Two of them were clearly designed for officers, with full tubs and space for storing personal items, but with Zagrut still missing it didn't look like anyone in the crew had much claim to those other than the captain, and he had his private bath. Garlax hefted the would be slave off his shoulder and gently lowered her into the tub, taking another moment to admire her beautiful form. Then he hit the water, setting it to a steamy but not scalding heat, and pulled the showerhead free on its hose. He took a hand towel from a rack on the wall and soaked it, before getting to work, starting at her feet and working his way upwards. The dried cum had managed to cake every part of her body, and he was careful not to miss any spots, working the hot fabric over her flawless skin, then applying a spray of water to wash away the filth. As he went, he could feel where her muscles had built up knots in the endless clenching of non-stop orgasms and was sure to offer those spots additional attention, kneading thick fingers into her supple flesh.

The Saurian fully expected the woman to remain unconscious throughout his ministrations, but of course he had no way of knowing just how quickly Miria's race could recover.

The powerful warrior that had came close to defeating their captain lied utterly broken on the floor, shamefully twitching in the aftershocks of countless orgasms and the unrelenting bombing of raw pleasure delivered to her brain by the collar. Limply, she was pulled aside so Garlax could clean up after their mess, and slowly, but surely, the massive amounts of seed inside her began trickling out of her battered holes until she rested on top of a new pool of cum, much to the Saurian's dismay.

Even in unconsciousness Miria was not free from their punishment, as the collar continued to temper with her mind, and every minute fainted only showed dreams of pleasure and being fucked. Some incoherent sounds came out of her mouth as she was carried, but nothing that came close to being a word. Her body had been pushed to its absolute limits, and yet, made to endure, it seemed to recover some of her stamina quickly. Had it not been by the collar, Ash's mind might have overcome the sexual torment she was put through, but instead she was forced to catch her breath in an amazing fashion, while her braincells were all still addled and hazed by the raw ecstasy.

Such thing was obvious to the unappreciated Saurian, as her nipples remained proudly erect on top of her huge, pillowy tits, heaving with each breath; and her netherlips were constantly swollen and puffy. By the time she was placed in the tub, she could begin to feel his procedure on her. Every part of her surreal body was available to him, a perfect specimen of the female Holian, in all her wonder with her toned muscles but wide, feminine curves in an hourglass silhouette as well. Beneath that supple skin, knots of tense muscles were massaged into a much needed relaxation.

"Uhnnn... mmmmm..." Every time he made sure to tend to those places, more moans of satisfaction were hummed out of her mouth. Perhaps somewhat surprising after all she was put through, but not quite as so as soon enough as his scaled hands worked their way up her legs and to her wide hips her ochre eyes opened. They were still hazy and unfocused, staring ahead as if trying to grasp where she was. Miria felt her body slightly aching, but embraced by a new pleasing sensation as Garlax's work was settling in very nicely in her poor muscles. Slowly he turned to see him, and for a second she was about to move away but she felt almost too heavy to move an inch. And she couldn't, not if the collar was around her neck still. "W... Where... am I?" She weakly asked.

Miria's dreams were clouded by the devious torments of her collar, and it's designers apperantly knew their trade well. Her imposed nightmares constantly shifted, a collage of her most emotionally charged sexual experiences, all flashing by too quickly to do more than draw up the feelings of lust, trust, and love she had felt for her partners, without any of the accompanying memories of the people she shared those moments with. Interspersed within the barrage were memories of her new role, always preceeded and followed by some of her most cherished memories. Her first night with Amedea proceeded being stretched to her limit by Fendrel's massive pole for the first time, which led immediately into a raucous threesome with Miatro and Hilda, muddling her memories so that they all seemed to blend together. It wasn't mind control or brainwashing, but given a few months of the collar's attentions the Hollian would struggle to separate her cherished memories from before her time as a slave from her new life.

Garlax could sense the change in the new slave's muscles as she slowly roused to wakefulness, pressing instinctively into the touch that relieved its aches. He was surprised to find her conscious so soon, but the haze of exhaustion kept it's hold long enough for his devious mind to formulate a plan before she spoke. He never stopped his attentions to her lovely form, gently scrubbing away the stains of her gangbanging and washing them down the drain to leave her perfect body clean.

When she finally turned to look at him and spoke, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, instilling all the command that he could in his eyes. "Slaves do not ask questions of their masters. You failed in your duties, and we're rightly punished. Now you have been placed into my care to help your body recover and to teach you to be better next time." He could feel as her body recoiled it's immediate punishment, but didn't let on that he was aware of her pain.

By this point his skilled fingers had reached her upper thighs, and were drifting deliciously close to her puffy pink slit, massaging along her inner thighs, but just as it seemed he might continue her training with more of the endless pleasure she'd felt so far, he pulled the cloth away and removed his hands. For the first time since her capture, Miria didn't feel the touch of a master, and whether it was the conditionition she received while awake or the reinforcement in her dreams, there was unmistakablely something wrong about that lack of contact. Her mind was trying to remind her a task she was forgetting, even if she didn't know what it was.

Glarax stood from where he knelt naked between her legs, displaying his proudly errect cock just at eye level as he looked down on her. "Now that you are awake, slid forward and let me get behind you." He moved so that he was sitting behind her in the tub, her back pressed against his chest, with strong arms reaching around to continue his work from before. He still didn't return to her needy sex though, instead running the hot towel across her muscled stomach and along her hourglass sides. "The first step to better service is to recognize your failures. Tell me how you displeased your masters, and how you think you can do better next time." Garlax's voice was one of confidence and unquestioning command, which would accept no disagreement. She WOULD move as she was told, and she WOULD answer, because why would she do anything else. Garlax was a master.