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It’s going to be okay. The female changing area is rudimentary, with only tall lockers and crude wooden benches interrupting the cream tiles which pattern the floor, walls and ceiling. Around my ankle is the bracelet. Its newness is distracting. I’m surprised to find the changing room already occupied. An athletic dark-skinned human woman is half-way through unfastening her functional top to bare her interracial pleasingly ripe breasts. She sees me and her sensual pouting face smiles warmly. My immediate reaction to the sight of her is repulsion. Here stands one of those females who betray our sex. This woman willingly seeks to debase herself before men. And then I remember I’m in no position to judge. I too am debasing myself. My tumbling thoughts quickly realize her presence is a good thing. It’s better for me that there will be other women on the shuttle. I do not to have to go through this humiliation alone. So hoping she didn’t see my initial disgust, I give the woman a genuine smile in return. “Dealla,” she then introduces herself, and blushingly adds, “Submissive. Of course. Or why would I be here? Stop blabbering, Dealla… I’m from Boroonas Four in the Jorian cluster.” “Rosila,” I lie, and blushing more than her using the word in relation to myself I too say “Submissive.” Deciding I might as well stick with the DNA scan completely I add, “Ilushin One.” “Right in the middle of the Republic!” Dealla says, sounding impressed. She’d already stripped off her clothing before I walked in, and as she speaks now she slides her plain panties down over her knees before stepping out of them, leaving herself entirely naked. I see her pussy has been waxed – a preparation only made by whores who wish to make themselves more pleasing to men, and have to fight another wave of repugnance. From her locker Dealla takes the small rectangle of blue silken material that will be her only covering during the voyage. The sight of it makes cock my stomach big give a barrel roll of fear. That’s one of them – a slave wrap. All we can wear in public. When she unfurls it and holds bbw it against her it looks so small. The wrap barely covers from her breasts down to her sex. My own small bundle of cloth I’m clutching easily in one hand. Gods, I can’t put that on! What am I to do? I had my other hand half-way to the zipper of my jumpsuit, high up near my neckline, but I drop it again as I watch Dealla fasten the wrap under her arm. I’ve seen women in wrap on the Slaver broadcasts of course, but here in reality… All there is are bare, soft limbs, deep brown flesh, and the gaping opening at her side flashing the tits secrets within. “I’m not sure I can carry on,” I say to Dealla in a breaking voice. “I can’t walk onto that ship wearing only this and have everyone look at me…” Dealla halts, and looks at me with genuine incomprehension. His cock was incredibly perfect. After many minutes of this he picked his weight up off me again. James, struck with interracial the sudden realization, looked down, once more, towards the cracked screen staring back at him. We both cum like this and it's better than nothing.” I said in bbw a mournful tone and looked at her too. He lay back as Chelsea rolled over on top of him. My cock male mind couldn’t come up with a guess on her cup size, E, F? Jessica took Mo’s hands and pulled them behind her back, then Mo felt a pair of leather cuffs slide over her hands and tighten on her wrists. I then licked my big fingers clean and swallowed the last of it. “I guess so.” Emily replied, slowly relaxing and letting her arms drop down. His conscious mind was no longer in control; it felt like his body was acting autonomously. They weren’t all blue-eyed blondes, but even if they were brown-eyed, it was a very light brown tits with traces of green around the edges. "Okay...I'll be serious," she laughed.