The next day Karl was late coming down to give her breakfast. Then she heard noises upstairs, like the sounds of a struggle. She heard a girl’s muffled screaming and Karl growling angrily. Then the basement door opened and Karl came down carrying a girl over his shoulder. He tossed her down to the floor and chained her to the wall next to Dasha. She was wearing a private school uniform, navy skirt and collared shirt, which Karl ripped off of her. “Welcome to our family, Morgan,” he whispered to the girl, licking his lips. “I want you to meet Dasha.” Morgan looked over at Dasha, with a petrified expression. Morgan was a tiny Asian girl, about 5 feet tall, and no more than 90lbs. She looked about fourteen, probably a freshman in high school. Dasha smiled weakly at Morgan who was still whimpering. Karl picked Morgan up off the floor and started chaining her to the ceiling. “Hopefully you won’t take as long to get pregnant as Dasha did,” he chuckled. Morgan’s eyes widened and she cried. "We are expected by Samir," he addedto dispel any lingering doubts on the part of the guard. The mangrunted in acknowledgement as the door swung open, after much freeingof bolts, chains and bars, to permit us both entrance into a tiny torchlit room. The armed guard nodded again and allowed us through. Only afew feet before us was another door, also iron, similar to the outsidedoor. In many ways this system operates a bit like an airlock. Securityis always tight in a slaver house. They are perhaps amongst the mostsecure buildings to be found anywhere on Gor. The guard didn't seem toosurprised by my presence, despite the fact that a Free Woman attendinga slaver house in Patashqar is about as likely as a grown man growingwings and learning to fly like a Tarn. Presumably he had been told toexpect me. Nevertheless, my visit was unusual and it drew significantattention as we passed through the security system.The guard tapped a complex signal on the inner door - one that no doubtchanges on.
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