(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/Characters/Avatars/LindaAvatar02.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Linda Tuchamba</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside the Emperium's back door<br/><strong>With:</strong>Nataliya Kobevko, Veronica Downing<br/><hr/><br/>After what seemed an eternity, the shutter door opened (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=142203.msg6489860#msg6489860), and I stepped in out of the Mediterranean sunshine into the stiflingly hot loading bay. The man who had opened the door was someone I knew by name. "Ah, Xavier, mon ami, ça va?"<sup>1</sup><br/><br/>"Oui, ça va"<sup>2</sup>, he replied with a typical Gallic shrug. "What have you got for me Mam'selle Tuchamba?"<br/><br/>"Red head. Black market, untrained and vicious. The collar is real, but blank, so whoever buys her will need a contact in the BAF to get it set up correctly." I spoke in a low voice. Xavier was not the brightest spark or he wouldn't be working as a slave pusher on a loading dock. Of course, I'd just outlined my biggest problem here. The longer the bitch was in my possession with that damn unregistered collar, the more chance there was of someone noticing her on the BAF system. The penalties for slave trafficking weren't too harsh - a fairly hefty fine - but for black market dealing - well, I could end up loosing my EE licence!<br/><br/>It was therefore imperative for me to off-load the little bitch as quickly as I could, or kill her and dump her body in the harbour!<br/><br/>Xaviar nodded and walked over to where my slave was holding the readhead's leash. He walked around her, crushed her breasts in his meaty hands, yanked her to her feet by her hair, shoved a finger up her arse, and then up her cunt, then to my amusement used the same finger to feel inside the ring gag tin the slut's mouth. "Hmm... Not bad. If it were down to me, Mam'selle, I'd give you forty cents on the Euro, but sadly it is not."<br/><br/>He waved to one of the slaves that populated this corner of the store. These were the ugly ones, the over-muscled ones, the over-tall ones, the ones that no-one wanted. Their collective DMV together probably added up to what Monsieur Adam asked for a single slave he sold. This particular slave was about 157 tall, chubby, and had serious scars across her whole body. She was about thirty seven, and it looked like she'd been set on fire. Or possibly set herself on fire rather than take the collar. Her sumptuous breasts were clamped into a sort of hoist thing that seemed to attach to her crotch as well and had a number of fairly substantial boxes stacked on it. The number seven was branded clearly above her right breast and on her left arse cheek.<br/><br/>"Ah number seven. Go and find one of the store slaves and tell her to fetch Monsieur Adam, as soon as possible". He reinforced the order with a vicious swipe at the slave's behind with his crop. The human pump-truck nodded and scurried off, pausing to unload her boxes.<br/><br/>I sighed softly. "Sluttie-babe, come here and eat your mistress out, there's a girl" I grinned, then looked up at Xavier who was leering at me. "Do you mind? Haven't you got a warehouse to run?" He looked startled, then guilty, and sauntered off, while I dropped my slacks and panties and sat on a packing crate, spreading my legs.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>1] "Ah Xavier, my friend, how's it going?" (Literally, "it goes?")<br/>2] "Okay". (Again literally, "Yes, it goes".  The French have a wonderfully compact form of greeting. "It's going?" "Yes, it's going").