I'm the captain of a small trading ship, and I have a problem.
I have a ridiculously high sex drive thanks to that damn parasite from Verda, and I can't afford surgery to remove it. I tried to control it, but I nearly destroyed my crew a dozen times before I found something that worked: A sex slave.
I buy a slave from people who are going to work her to death, give her good quarters, good food, and a percentage of each trading run. All I expect is that she be available for sex, mostly with me, sometimes with the crew. A lot.
I've had three so far. Two saved enough to buy themselves free and got a nice set up on the world of their choice. The third kept trying to escape so I ditched her at our next planetfall with the clothes on her back. We're on our way to a so-called 'Personnel Processing Platform' to buy the next one.
Am I the Asshole?
Content warning: This is essentially a heavy non-consent/dubious consent story set in space. If you are uncomfortable with noncon, explicit sex and/or rape, or fictional slavery, this story isn't for you. No AI
Jess' weird fish-out-of-water life has left her with enduring love/affair with common tropes. The relationship counselor recommended she break it off, but she just keeps coming back to play with them (and fuck them up) some more.
In between her tropic indulgences, she writes queer fantasy with aromantic, neurodivergent, and generally 'weird' characters, takes care of her family, argues halakha, and tries to do a bit of educational activism on the side.
Her website 'A Gryphon's Aerie' updates semi regularly, and she's active on Mastadon, Tumblr and a few other spots around the web.