Only half awake, yet with no desire to be roused, Lyy shifted awkwardly in her bed. The Daysider girl's rust-coloured fur was ruffled by her shifting in the night, brushed and folded in awkward ways by the thick, clinging mattress she slept upon. Unlike most Penitatas she had no sheets on her bed. The mattress was a special one, typically used by the sick or elderly; those who could not reliably make it through the night without accidents. For Lyy, it was not incontinence that required the provision, but her Master's fetishes. Her own as well, once, back when such behaviour was a rare indulgence, not a reality of everyday life.
Her right wrist was bound securely in a soft leather cuff and anchored to the bedpost by a chain. She always had at least one restraint on when she slept. Sometimes it was every limb, keeping her spread out on her back. This was usually on nights when Javik was feeling especially playful; he would tickle her to exhaustion before satisfying himself, leaving her to slumber on damp bedding with a fresh load matting her stomach fur together. Last night had been a gentle one, Lyy having only to smile and put on a show for Javik's pleasure. He made sure to wash her fur afterwards so his load wouldn't dry in.
At the sound of the door opening, Lyy clenched her eyes shut and let her jaw slip open. She breathed through her mouth, not snoring but but inhaling and exhaling deeply with her muzzle tilted so a little drool could seep into the pillow. Javik liked to tease her, humiliate her and pleasure himself at her expense, but he always let her rest. Feigning sleep could often buy her more time alone, which at times was a welcome treat. This time, however, Javik took her by the shoulder and gently rocked her awake. "Come on, pet. You have a meeting with the Enforcers this morning, so no long nap for you!"
The man's tone was pleasant and playful as he released Lyy's paw. The girl gave a twitch of her tail and a few perfunctory murmurs to come across as a five-year-old roused from her dreams, but offered no real complaint or resistance as Javik hoisted her up into his arms and, with more difficulty than he should have had, carried her into the washroom. A bath had been drawn up for her, and the young Penny gave a genuine sigh of pleasant relief as she sank into the warm, soapy water.
"Seems silly to me that we have to do this, but the Guild wants you to confirm you are happy to stay as a Penitatas," Javik said as he got to work scrubbing the girl's fur, roughly working the suds in and leaving her fur a random mess of foamy spikes and clumps, "still, I suppose it's important we obey the law, yes?"
Lyy glanced up into her master's young, earnest face. He was in his early twenties, yet sometimes he acted more like a boy of twelve. Even to her less than discerning eye, Javik was a poor specimen of Kyyreni manhood: a little too short by Dawnsider standards and most definitely too scrawny, cursed with bad eyes and a sad excuse for a mane. His social skills were equally lacking, which combined with a fierce, if narrow intellect was what had brought them together in the first place.
Two years ago, Lyy and her 'friends' had learned of Javik. He was one of the few self-made men on Taviksaad, becoming unfathomably wealthy through means the Daysider girl could not truly understand. They had tailed him and studied him, learning as much as they could about his security arrangements and personal life before deciding he was the perfect mark. Lyy had approached carefully, watching him through windows and across public places as he blundered uselessly into, then swiftly out of social interactions. As the Revelry drew near, Lyy had swooped in and made her move, playing herself off as his perfect woman as best she could. In the week that followed Lyy had taken him for all she could, coaxing him into buying her ridiculously expensive gifts while pocketing every coin-card she could lay her paws on. To her mind it was a fair exchange; Lyy and her friends scored big, while Javik got a week of heavenly delights.
At first she'd had to take the lead, rewarding his spending with oral sex and permission to grope her. Before long, however, Javik found the courage to ask for what he wanted, and each day his requests became bolder, more kinky and more numerous. She had played along with it all, of course, and some of it she didn't even have to pretend to enjoy. Allowing him to tie her down had been the single most terrifying experience of her life; Lyy had been certain her game was up and he was just holding her for the Enforcers to arrive, but they never did. He just wanted to rut with a helpless maiden, or to tickle one. As soon as the Revelry was over and her season ended, Lyy had bolted from his home and never looked back, vanishing into the wasteland with the rest of her crew. There she remained for two years, living high off the spoils of her misadventure until one stupid mistake brought her right back to The City, into the Enforcer's cages and then their Rejuvenation Chambers. Suddenly five again, Lyy had to wait only an hour before Javik came to collect her, beaming like an idiot.
That was how she'd wound up back in his home, and ultimately there in his bathtub. For two months she'd been his property, forced to comply to his every whim and kink. Javik liked to play innocent with her, always talking to her in that lovesick, playful tone of his while reminding her how lucky it was he'd rescued her. Lyy knew how bad being a Penny could be, especially for a girl, and so she had decided straight away he had to be kept sweet. Be good, smile, play the part. That was how to save her own hide. Mercifully, he'd accepted her claims that this new body was too small and fragile for 'rough play', but there was plenty he could put her through that never left a mark.
"Alright, that's you all scrubbed," Javik announced happily as he doused a fresh bowl of warm water over the girl's head, chasing out the last of the suds, "do you feel nice and clean all over?"
"Yes Master," Lyy replied dutifully, giving her voice more of a childish squeak than it normally had, "your pet feels all clean, Master!"
Javik chuckled at her reply and had her stand up as the water drained away. His eyes drifted to her crotch, and a probing finger tickled at her belly-button as he cooed, "are you certain you're clean all over? Do I need to check anywhere? Under your tail, perhaps?"
Lyy blushed at the question, knowing what he had in mind. Thanks to Javik's experimenting two years ago, Lyy had found she quite enjoyed having something under her tail. Of course, there was a difference between anal play as a free woman and being forced to play as a slave. Nervous despite her preferences, Lyy turned and leaned on the side of the tub, presenting her wet buttocks for her master to roughly towel-dry. He forced her legs apart a little and worked some cold lube onto her puckered tail-hole, providing an equally generous dollop onto his finger. "Ready, pet?" he asked before pressing the digit against her back passage. The girl resisted briefly, but as the finger slipped inside she lowered herself onto it, shifting position to make the entrance easier.
"Well, you certainly feel all clean down there," Javik purred softly as his finger slowly, carefully stroked the girl's insides, making her gasp and whimper softly at the attention. Javik had explored her so thoroughly that he knew exactly where to touch and how forcefully, able to make her yelp or sigh or moan as he liked. Today, it seemed, he wanted to reward her, pushing his finger in a little more as the digit curled to rub at her most sensitive spots. He pushed her forwards, raising her hips to expose her slit for his viewing pleasure and purring as he saw how her girlhood twitched in time with his finger's gentle probing.
Just as Lyy was beginning to give in and try to enjoy the moment her master's finger withdrew, "wouldn't want to make a mess so soon after your bath," he chuckled as he took a towel to her backside, leaving her restless and unsatisfied. His own erection showed clearly beneath his kilt. She allowed herself to be lifted out of the bath, dried more thoroughly and carried like an infant back to the bedroom. Lyy smiled and went along as she was groomed and dressed, quietly hoping the itch between her legs went away before she faced the Arbitrators.

Hafn was up before dawn to do his chores, and the Sinking Light had plenty of them. Floors had to be brushed and mopped, every surface had to be dusted and polished, every table scrubbed of liquid stains and their undersides scraped of chewing tar. All this and a hundred other duties had to be done every day before opening, and for Hafn his chores would be made all the harder because of his mistress, Ivaka.
"You've been told about that pendant," the woman said, her black-furred foot tapping impatiently upon the faux-wood floor.
Hafn clutched the token guiltily, bringing forth all the courage he could muster as he replied, "I won't hide it. It's a symbol that Pennys like me won't be pushed around anymore."
The Dawnsider woman bared her teeth. The grey fur of her back stood up as she stormed toward the impudent Penitatas and took him by the scruff, "You've got a lot of lip! Let's see if your hide's as tough!" She marched the struggling child through the bar area, her other employees watching as she frog-marched Hafn into the back office and shoved him forcefully against the wall.
"Take your shirt off," Ivaka growled as she removed a short crop from her desk drawer. It was hard black leather with a long, flexible head in the shape of a diamond, a single flap that could deliver the blow's energy into a single, biting point. It was known as a 'soft lash', as it delivered a terrible bite without leaving a lasting wound.
Hafn whimpered at the site of the implement. He dutifully placed his shirt on a nearby chair and pressed his hands against the wall as instructed, not wishing to make his situation worse now he knew what was coming. Ivaka gave no preamble before striking him squarely in the back, sending a sharp bee-sting deep into the meat of his back. The boy gave a howl of pain that he knew his colleagues would hear, but by the second bite any thoughts of hiding his punishment had long since passed.
There many kinds of pain, and people responded to them differently. Hafn 'liked' thudding pain, as much as he liked any. Unfortunately for him, Ivaka had noticed early on that the boy could suffer a few swats with a light cane without much protest, and so she had invested a little time and money in finding out how to discipline her Penitatas effectively. With Hafn, the sharper the sting, the greater the hurt.
Eight sharp snaps against the boy's back left him mewling like an infant cub. Ivaka gave the boy a minute to compose himself before turning him around and staring sharply into his red-eyed, tear-wet face. "Put your shirt on, and keep that stupid disc under it. You can go wait with Danin, I need to get Ros." 
Hafn nodded meekly, wincing as she shirt rubbed against the sore points down his back. He rejoined his colleagues with his muzzle hung low, making sure not to meet their gaze.
"You need to start toeing the line," Danin muttered as the boy slunk past.
With a sniffle and paw raised to his chest, Hafn whined, "it's not fair. She can't treat me like this." 
"Give it a rest," Danin replied as he fished a pendant out from under his shirt. It was three golden rings interlocked. He flashed the icon at Hafn before placing it back into hiding, "we're all held to the same rules. Just keep it in your shirt and stop heaping misery on yourself."
"I thought you were on my side," Hafn muttered bitterly. 
Danin sighed, "I am, Hafn, but you have to at least try and help yourself first. You're not being asked to do anything I wasn't at your age!"
A brief pause in the background noise of the bar made both of them aware of how public their discussion was. Danin glanced over at the two girls nearby setting a table. They caught his eye for the merest instant before becoming very interested in their tablecloth. "Just stop rocking the boat, yeah? Take it from someone who knows; the best way to get a collar off is to work it off."

Tosjig lived in the attic of a townhouse, one he was forced to share with Ranzig. The man was nice enough when he wanted to be, but he was a loud, obnoxious drunk, and he drank often when not working. 
Outside of the shared bedroom, the only place he had access to was a shared kitchen area and the latrine on the middle floor. The rest of the building belonged to a family of four - a married couple and their daughters. They didn't appreciate having a Penitatas under the same roof, so if Tosjig had to be home he stayed in the bedroom. 
Today, Ranzig was snoring on the floor in a tangle of bedding, which worked better than any alarm clock. He was to meet with the Enforcers this morning to confirm his future, a meeting all present and future Penitatas had to go through. He was confident his mind was made up, but there was always a lingering doubt... 
He wanted to bathe before the meeting. Last night's clothes were scooped off the floor and put on before Tosjig dragged a suitcase from under the bed and fished out a red drawstring bag. Into the bag went a pair of Lifter yellow shorts, a buttonless cream shirt and a crimson cotton string to tie it closed. After a brief consideration, yellow hand- and foot-gloves followed, along with fur coloured wraps for his forearms, shins and ankles. 
He darted in and out of the kitchen as quickly as possible, grabbing a sour meat bun and escaping before he could be accused of stealing food. It was awful cold, but better than going hungry. 
The townhouse was one of several lining the south side of the Lifter Guild compound. Straight across the narrow courtyard, a space barely wide enough to fit a flatback, there was a wash-house. Two, in fact; one for men and the other for women, back to back and mirroring each other. Children had chalked markings on the wall for their various games, and the Penny had to steer around four boisterous children as they chased an erratically shaped ball around the concrete.
Once inside, Tosjig took a moment to appreciate the effort that had gone into such a simple place. Most of the Lifter community's buildings were functional, if bland; tall, cramped designs intended to squeeze as much as possible into too-small an area. The wash-house was a rare exception, spreading itself out and giving a bit of flair and style to the site. It was intended as a social space as much as a hygiene service, with potted plants lining the entrance hall and scent-filters giving a floral contrast to the smell of disinfectant that wafted from the wash bays. Straight on from the entry way was the main wash area, a single large room containing two bathing pools for hot or cold bathing, as well as rinsing showers, an artificial hot spring and several steaming boxes. Tosjig had no intention of using any of that today; instead, he took a side door into a small changing area that was adjoined by a smaller, more functional shower bay intended for those who needed to get clean in a hurry.
Rehd was scrubbing the benches when Tosjig entered. The slave was of middling age and in good shape, although his duties did his fur no favours. Dirty blond all over, the constant shifting between wet and dry, warm and cold left him with a frazzled, splitting coat that made him look unwanted. "After something?" Rehd asked when he caught Tosjig staring.
The Penny shook his head urgently, "No, just want a quick wash."
"There's soap-gel in the box over there," the slave replied, nodding to the corner of the room, "throw your dirties in a bag and I'll make sure they're cleaned."
"Thank you," Tosjig replied, giving a smile that went unnoticed.
Soap and hot water did wonders for his mood, sending his lingering anxieties glugging down the drain along with three days of grime. Tosjig didn't like to over-wash as it damaged his coat, but he couldn't deny it was a wonderful sensation. In many ways, it was therapeutic to trudge, soaked to the skin and weighed down by water in the fur over to the drying arch, where all the weight was lifted by a fiery blast of air. He trotted clear dry and tingling to put his clean clothes on as fast as possible without spoiling the lay of the wraps, then headed for the front of the compound.
Korat was waiting with a handkerchief over his muzzle. He was a first-among-equals, a bureaucrat and middle-man for the various groups within the Guild. If labourers felt their stipend was too meagre, they went to Korat; if the women in accounts felt cost-to-work was out of line, they went to Korat. He had a way of smoothing over bumps. He was also a mongrel; Dawn mother, Night father. His fur was mostly blond, but covered in irregular black patches, the most notable being on the right side of his face that enveloped an eye, an ear and halfway to the nose. His features were oddly proportioned, but the handkerchief was a hint at his other defining trait: perpetual sickness.
"Still alive, Tosjig?" Korat asked, clearing his throat loudly after speaking to force out some particularly stubborn bile.
"Yes. And you?" the Penny asked back, regretting it immediately as Korat chose that moment to become especially bucolic.
The mongrel's spluttering finished with a breathless moan from the man and a thick, ruddy gob of mucus in his hand. Tosjig wasn't medically inclined, but he knew bringing up blood was never a good sign. The man sneered at his produce and threw the square of cloth into a zip pocket of his medicine bag. "It's the bloody air round here. Chemicals in the filtration. We are meant to live under open skies, not beneath a sodding dome."
With a flick of his tail, all bitterness seemed forgotten. Korat turned his odd eyes to Tosjig and grinned, "so, all set?"
"Yessir. Thanks for taking me," he added, figuring manners never hurt.
Korat waved the Penny towards a small grav-car, a compact vehicle in yellow with the heraldry of the Guild emblazoned wherever it would fit. The funny little craft was a stark contrast to most of the vehicles present, which were mostly old, cheap and ugly to behold. "In and out with no fuss, yeah? Can't stand to be around the Enforcers; their buildings are murder on the lungs."

The Hall of Corrections was a miserable place, and even the most well-decorated rooms provided scarce relief from the all-consuming negativity of its design. The Penitatas and their escorts found themselves in a room each of the children had visited at least once before, arrayed on a grey metal bench against a grey wall with an off-white ceiling above. A grey table with two stools sat in the middle of the room. The most interesting feature for the adults was the tiling on the floor; white octagons with black squares filling the gap. For the Penitatas, their eyes invariably came to rest on the heavy metal hooks between their legs, through which chains had once run to bind them as the Enforcers had pronounced their sentences.
Five Penitatas awaited their fates today; Tosjig, Lyy, Ross and Hafn, plus a child none of them knew; a three year old. She had no master with her, but instead had an Enforcer hovering beside her. Eight of the nine waiting there were silent, with Korat being the exception; every few minutes the man would cough, splutter or hawk, quickly drawing disapproving stares for his apparent pestilence.
The far door swung open to reveal three children. The first two, a boy and a girl, were around twelve or thirteen and wore the blue uniforms of Enforcers-in-training. They wore no armour and carried stun-guns in place of traditional live weapons. The third, a boy of six, wore the black of a full officer with the inclusion of thin bands of yellow around his biceps. The boy sat at the far side of the desk and placed a spread of dataslates upon the cold metal table. "Let's get started," the boy announced, "Vrahlt?"
The unknown girl was helped off the bench by the firm grip of her escort and walked to the table. She had a quiet, distant look about her that made the others uncomfortable. "Vrahlt, son of Tor, you are judged guilty of multiple counts of rape and murder, committed with malice, and other crimes that will have no bearing here. The sentence is death, but by the mercy of the Guild you may instead accept a Penitatas sentence of four childhoods, years three to nine."
The boy paused to consult one of his pads, which he pushed across the table towards the silent child, "given what you've already endured, the Guild has made some specific alterations to your contract. You may choose to return to male during your next, or any subsequent rejuvenation. We will also ensure the contract forbids forced sexual contact. No master has come forward for you yet, so if you accept you will serve out your time in our cells until one is found, or if needs be in a secure facility elsewhere. Do you understand all that?"
the girl's head twitched in what might have been a nod. The child-Enforcer sighed and waved her back to the bench before turning to the teenage boy at his side, "Torn? Let's see if we can save a bit of time. Hand out the pads to the Pennys so they can read their contracts while they wait."
"Yes, Kas," Torn answered.
Before Tosjig had even looked at his pad a voice rose in quiet protest from further down the bench. "This is just my old sentence," Hafn grunted.
"You. Come up here." Kas ordered, pointing a finger at Hafn who clearly didn't realise he'd been overheard. The boy slunk to the interview stool, the anger he'd hoped to channel towards the Enforcers instead turned mostly on himself and his own sheepish behaviour towards a child no older than he was. 
"Hafn, convicted of premeditated assault of a senior member of the Builder- that is, the Guild of City Construction and Maintenance. Sentence is... What's that around your neck?" Kas squinted at the cord just visible above the boy's collar.
Slowly, carefully, Hafn revealed the pendant. When Kas laid eyes on it he gave a frustrated sigh and his his face behind Hafn's pad. "Gods, you're one of Skal's cultists. Well of course you are..."
Kas returned his attention to the Penny boy, his muzzle curled into an impatient scowl that was born of dealing with people who imagined rights for themselves where none existed. "Let me explain how this works. I sentence you, in your case ten years in Black Pit, and then I extend to you the mercy of a prepared Penitatas contract. The only thing that you do is say 'yes' or 'no'. For special circumstances we might place limits on what can and can't be done with you, but aside from Vrahlt over there I haven't been told about any special contract."
"But we get a say!" Hafn protested, "I saw the broadcast!" 
Kas gave a long sigh, followed by a pause with eyes closed that suggested he was counting in his head. "Alright, by a simple show of hands, are any of you seriously considering the standard sentence?" his tone indicated he felt sure of the answer, which was why it surprised him and everyone else when Lyy raised her hand.
"Lyy!" Javik cried out in shock before urgently turning towards Kas and spluttering, "Enforcer, I must- err- speak with Lyy privately!"
"She can't leave," Kas replied, but the urgent coughing and throat clearing from the female Prospect made him turn towards her. They engaged in a brief, whispered conversation from which Kas emerged with an expression of mild bewilderment. "It seems you are a friend of the Guild, Javik, so I suppose I can allow this. Take her out into the hall, but please keep her inside the building."
As Javik dragged his Penitatas out of the room, Kas rose from his own seat, "we're going to take a break. Boy, go sit back down. I hope when we resume you'll discover some sense!"

The instant the door closed behind her, Lyy found herself gripped tightly by the shoulders. "What are you thinking?" her master snapped, staring at the startled girl with hurt, fearful eyes.
"You can't joke around with the Enforcers! What are you trying to prove? Is this about that silly pendant your friend has? He gave you one, I remember. Are you trying to help him somehow?" 
"Let go of me!" Lyy shrieked. The sudden outburst made Javik loosen his grip enough for her to squirm free and get a little breathing space.
The rust-red girl took a few long breaths to steady her nerves and calm her thumping heart before speaking, "I don't want to go to the dungeons or the labour camps, but I don't think I want to be your toy anymore either." The mumbled words slipped from her muzzle and took a crushing weight with them. Although afraid of her Master's possible reaction, Lyy at least took some comfort from having at least tried to oppose him. 
To her astonishment, Javik's muzzle curled back in an expression of pain. His voice trembled as he stammered out a single word reply: "Why?" 
Lyy stood confused before him, trying to make sense of the apparent grief etched into Javik's features as he knelt before her. Trembling hands reached to cup her head, his thumbs and fingers kneading around the base of her ears, "I brought you back. I tried to make you happy, like we were before. Why would you want to leave?" 
"Because..." Lyy began, but she hadn't the strength of heart to go on. She had no idea what would happen if she lashed out, but was equally fearful of where her Master's desires would ultimately lead. Paralysing indecision gripped her, anchoring her physically and mentally to the spot until all she could do was weep.
Javik took her gently to his breast, his paws rubbing the girl's back and head in slow, comforting movements. He whispered soothing words to her, but Lyy didn't hear them. Her mind was trying to make sense of her life, and the pieces didn't fit. She had exploited him all those years ago, and he had delighted in reminding her of that. In the two months she'd been his property he had often used that past exploitation as a teasing prelude to whatever he wished to do to her. Yet the way he cried for her, the way he begged for answers, it didn't add up. Javik didn't seem like a man threatened with the loss of property; he seemed like a man heartbroken.
"I get scared," Lyy mumbled into his chest, trying to probe for a way forward that might salvage whatever it was she'd got herself into.
"You don't need to be scared, pet," Javik assured her, "I will take good care of you. I'll never let anything bad happen to you."
Lyy flinched at the answer. She was quite certain that being tickled until her bladder failed counted as 'bad', nevermind anything else he did, or might want to do in the future. "If I stay... I don't want to 'play' so much."
Javik pulled away from her so they could be face to face once more, "Is that it? You need to rest? You could have said something!"
"I didn't think I could," Lyy confessed, which was true. She had no idea that speaking up would have achieved anything; from the moment she'd become his property her plan had been to play nice and ride it out as best she could. Yet she had asked for things and gotten them. He'd left her girlhood alone at her request, he'd expressed curiosity in new 'games' and then forgotten them without protest when Lyy begged him never to do it. It had been Lyy who quietly asked to be able to have friends, and she'd even asked him if 'twice a month' was fair. Javik had given her what she asked for; she's simply asked for so little that she'd never noticed.
The girl bunched her eyes closed and steadied herself, "I'm sorry, Javik. I'm really sorry. I've been scared and confused and... I want to start over. Being your pet hasn't been fun for me, but I'll stay if you'll let me work out some rules and boundaries."
"I... well, of course! I want you to be happy! Just come and we will work it out, I promise!" There was nothing angry or deceitful in the man's desperation. He was a young, awkward man who was trying to make sense of something beyond his understanding, and terrified of losing someone he loved.
Lyy gave a trembling smile to her Master. "I am sorry about all this," she said timidly, "being Rejuved, being a Penny, it's... it changed me more than I thought."
Another hug followed her confession, "It's not your fault, pet. I'm so sorry I never thought about this! They told me you would be the same woman on the inside, your old mind in a new body. I'm so stupid for not paying more attention to you!"
With a surge of relief, Lyy let Javik pour his emotions out. This, she thought, might just be workable.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Ros whispered to Hafn.
"No idea," Hafn replied, "but she's going to the cells! I mean, that's bold!"
"Bold? It's stupid!" Ros replied as forcefully as he dared. "Hafn, just do what they want. Tell them you want to be a Penny and this is all over!"
Hafn shook his head sharply, his jaw set in a determined scowl. "No... this is our moment. We need to fight back!" A sharp clip around the ear from his Mistress made it clear the discussion was over, although both Ros and Tosjig shared awkward looks with one another while Hafn sulked.
By the time Lyy and Javik returned it was obvious the Enforcers had all but run out of patience. Kas bared his teeth at the Daysider girl who slunk into his chamber with her Master close behind, beckoning her forward with a curl of the finger. She took the stool as he wished, wiping her muzzle on the back of her hand to make sure no tears were present, and did her best to meet his uncaring scowl.
"This has taken far too long, thanks to you," Kas growled, "Your choice is simple; back with your Master, or hard labour in the Iron Gaol."
Javik cleared his throat for attention, "Sir? I... ah... may wish to change the, err, specifics of her contract."
Kas waved the man's concerns away, "I don't care about any of that. You can change her contract all you like... sir. I'm sure my captain will listen a friend of the Guild such as you. All I need to know is whether Lyy wants to be a Penitatas."
"I do," Lyy confirmed with a nod.
"Good. Then please go back to the bench," Kas said, turning his attention to a datapad and tapping notes into it as though the girl no-longer existed. After finishing whatever it was he was doing, he looked back at the line of waiting Penitatas. "Alright, let's get this done. Hafn!"
Hafn stepped forward as confidently as he could manage, keeping his head raised in what he imagined was stoic confidence. He didn't sit this time, but stood before the table with his arms not-quite folded across his front. Kas' expression returned to his previous scowl, "You do understand how this works? The choice is Penitatas or Black Pit. This is not your moment to be a hero."
The Penny boy took a deep breath and met Kas' eye. "I won't accept a Penny contract unless I'm allowed to ensure it's fair on me. On all of us," he corrected.
Kas glanced at the other three Penitatas yet to decide. Ros and Tosjig were fascinated by the floor tiles, while Vrahlt was staring at something only she could see. "I can tell I'm dealing with a massive intellect here. You're a smart one, a big-brained fish in a tiny pond. Maybe you're too smart to understand what I'm telling you. I really hope, for your sake, this gets through to whatever higher existence your grand consciousness is squatting in right now. Do you. Want to be. A Penitatas. Yes or no?"
"Not until I-"
"No it is," Kas cut him off with a deadpan reply, turning to his datapad and making notes. After a few moments he looked up, apparently surprised that Hafn was still stood there. "Sit down."
Hafn settled into the stool, but before it had even taken his wait Kas cut in, "No, back on the bench. We're done."
The boy's lip trembled as he spluttered out, "but I... I didn't-"
"You have formally rejected Penitatas punishment," Kas stated coldly. "You are sentenced to ten years in Black Pit. If you do not return to that bench and sit in silence for the remainder of this process, I will ask Torn to slam your head against the wall until you swallow your own fucking nose. Then I'll add two years to your time for insolence. Don't question, don't argue, just sit back down."
Hafn let out a pained whimper as he rose and hobbled back to his former Mistress, who stared at him in disbelief. "What have you done?" Ros hissed, but the boy was in no mood to reply. He sat back down and curled over, howling in despair. Ivaka tried her best to comfort him.
Ros and Tosjig got their turns, both of whom were quick to affirm they wanted to stay Penitatas and had no interest at all in debating the details. Then, at last, all eyes returned to Vrahlt. The girl had been unmoved by the drama that played out around her. She barely seemed to notice Kas as she calmly stepped forward once more.
With a tranquility that sent shivers down Kas' spine, the girl asked him, "how do you plan to execute me?"
"I don't know," Kas confessed, "it'll be quick though. You won't burn or boil."
"Good. Then I accept."
"You accept Penitatas?" the question finally drew Vrahlt's eyes back into the world of the living.
"I wish to be executed," she said matter-of-factly, as though choosing what to have for breakfast. Then she returned to the bench without permission or prompting.
Shaken by the girl, Kas took a moment to rally himself before rising from his seat. "This matter is concluded. All save Vrahlt and Hafn may leave. Madam? The Guild will compensate you for the lost slave. Guard, please escort the two convicts to holding."

Korat's coughing fit held off during the ride home. He medicated himself as they left the Hall, and the oily liquid seemed to reinvigorate him. He looked and sounded like a man in his late twenties again, rather than the decrepit figure he'd been so soon before. The machine ran on auto-pilot, even though legally it had to be under direct control while inside The City. Still, the violation allowed Korat to pay full attention to his young charge. "Quite a day," he said in a tone that fished for reply.
"Yeah... I don't know what Hafn was thinking."
"Seems to me he wasn't," Korat observed. He tried to give Tosjig a smile, but it was clear the boy was hurting. Korat was aware he'd lost a friend, and equally aware of how few friends the Penny had. "Listen, I've been thinking about your place with us. It's not really fair just having you run errands. How do you feel about learning the trade?"
The question caught Tosjig by surprise, judging by his expression. He very quickly went from startled to anxious as the weight of the words sunk in, his ears folding down as he mumbled, "I don't really like flying."
"You seem okay now," Korat said with a wave towards the windscreen.
"This is different. This is more like... being indoors in a tall building. I don't even want to imagine being up in the air, miles high..." the Penitatas shivered as his mind helpfully painted a picture of a cargo hauler breaking the cloud layer as its engines failed and it began a long tumble back to the unforgiving ground.
"Well I'd like you to try all the same. What about going up with Ranzig next time he's on flight? You'll like flying with him, he does escort duty. Who doesn't want to ride in a gunship?"
"Someone who doesn't want to die?" Tosjig offered, earning himself a sympathetic glance. "Korat, sir, I appreciate you wanting to help. I just don't think I'm a good fit for the Lifter Guild."
Korat gave the boy a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, "the Guild is lucky to have you. We'll work something out, don't you worry."

Safely home and wrapped in a warm blanket, Lyy sat with her Master and planned out her future. She was in bare fur, but by choice; an easy enough concession for her Master's pleasure. It was both frightening and exciting to discuss his desires, comparing them to her own and trying to find a compromise. There was a part of her that felt sure that, if she wanted to, Lyy could demand the world and get it. However, that raised the risk that Javik might try to force his own will in the matter, blowing the whole thing down. Better to accept a little discomfort here and there than risk losing all her progress.
"So... if it's alright, I want to be tickled less. A lot less." Lyy said, opening the blanked a little as she spoke to expose herself, hoping that showing willing would ease the request.
"Alright," Javik replied, but Lyy could read the disappointment in his features. It was a big ask and he gave it without protest; there had to be something lost in return. Fortunately, Lyy felt like she had something that wouldn't be too awful.
She let the blanket fall aside and smiled, parting her legs just enough for the movement to draw her Master's eye. "I was thinking... I'm not ready for everything... but touching and licking might be okay, if it's just the outside."
Javik took the implied invitation and gently parted her legs, his rough tongue drawing slowly over her privates. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation - nerves and anxiety, more than the feel were what kept her from enjoying it. Still, she forced a quiet giggle, which made Javik look up eagerly. "Ticklish down there?" he asked.
Lyy nodded, putting on a good act for him. She hid her face behind her hands as her Master's thumb traced over her slit, and allowed a few, quiet chuckles to escape. Javik licked his lips as he opened his pants and let his manhood rise free. "Seems it's just where I'm tickling that was the problem, yes?" he asked playfully, watching how the girl squirmed in response to his touch. She gave him a few minutes to indulge in this new liberty. his fingers and tongue exploring her body while his free hand stroked his throbbing length. The submissive role left her anxious, but she hoped her ultimate plan would secure her comfort. She blocked her master's probing tongue with her hand and sat up, hopping to her feet as he knelt back from her.
"One last thing," she said, hoping to sound confident as she knelt down and took her master's length in her paws. "If you can refrain from tickling me for a week..." she leaned in and let her tongue caress the base of his not, slowing drawing along his length before flicking the tip and drawing a shuddering gasp of delight. A thick bead of precum blossomed from the tip in response to her unexpected attention.
Satisfied at her Master's eager expression, Lyy settled back into her seat and put on a show, playing with herself and moaning in faked ecstasy until Javik blew his load over her chest and face. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but it was one Lyy could play to her advantage.

The transport was an old-model hauler, powered by a battery unit with an obsolete solar array mounted to the cab roof. Slow and awkward on its six massive wheels, the journey to Black Pit took far longer than it needed to. The two prisoners rode in silence, one calm and composed, one mute with terror.
"You're going to die here," Vrahlt said as the vehicle ground to a halt. The girl seemed unconcerned with her own fate, having shown not a single sign of fear or regret at any point during their time together.
"How can you be so calm?" Hafn whimpered in reply.
Vrahlt shrugged, "guess I just want it to be over."
The girl turned towards the rear door of the hauler, her eyes focusing on the metalwork and solid panels where there would normally be windows. "The Enforcers here are the worst on the planet. The mad, the crippled and the criminal get posted out here to rot. They won't care you're a child, and they won't care what your sentence is. Nobody ever leaves Black Pit."
"Shut up!" Hafn snapped, tears flooding down his muzzle, "stop saying these things! Just stop!"
The three-year-old turned towards the Penny boy and grinned like a demon, "Poor thing. I bet you're dead before I am."
The doors swung open, blinding Hafn with the intensity of the sunlight outside. The Enforcers dragged the two ex-Penitatas out into the open courtyard beneath the cold, blinding sun. Made to stand, Hafn blinked at the horizon, looking for anything that might tell him where he was in relation to The City. There was nothing. Beyond the six perimeter towers and the chain-link fence there was no sign of civilisation. He could be a few miles, or a few thousand miles from home.
His gaze turned to the three Enforcers waiting for them. Vrahlt had been right about them being crippled. The leader was monstrous to behold; where a face should be he instead had a mess of raw skin. Everything above the jaw was bare of fur, his eyes and thermal pads missing beneath the worst skin-graft known to Kyyreni-kind. In the centre of his skull, between where his eyes should be, the Enforcer had a single green, brass-rimmed lens, circled by six silver spheres. The lens target-locked him and terror made him avert his gaze towards the man's feet. That revealed the guard to Hafn's right lacked organic legs, both having been replaced with silver walking blades. All three of the Enforcers were, as far as Hafn could tell, in or close to their forties. Their posture and the fit of their uniforms spoke of wasted muscle and building fat. Their uniforms, old and worn like many in their Guild, sported a thick red band around each forearm.
The escort that brought Hafn and Vrahlt were dismissed, climbing back aboard their vehicle and beginning the long drive home. Machine-eye flicked his attention between the two Rejuves in turn. "Who is Vrahlt?" he asked, his voice given odd inflections by the severe damage to his upper jaw.
"I am," Vrahlt said. As last words went, it was hardly ideal.
"My name is Watch-Captain Haal," the augmented Enforcer rasped through the ringing echo of the gunshot, his broken jaw set in a disapproving snarl as his pistol lowered back into its holster, "from this point forward you belong to me. You exist now solely at my pleasure, and you will learn quickly that I am easily displeased."
Hafn barely registered the words. His attention was consumed by the remains of Vrahlt lying prone in the dirt, her eyes wide in surprise, her head haloed in a rapidly expanding ring of blood-soaked dust.
If Haal was at all concerned with Hafn's lack of focus, he did not show it. With a wave of his hand he beckoned one of his men forward, "Watchman, place the convict in secure holding. I don't like his chances in general holding."
"No!" Hafn shrieked as the Enforcer grabbed him and dragged him towards the bunker entrance of the prison. "I shouldn't be here! I'm a Penitatas! Send me back! Please, please send me back!"
Hafn's cries went unheeded. Haal watched the terrified child vanish into the darkness, then calmly turned towards the deceased child lying beneath the uncaring desert sky. He studied her for a while as if expecting her to suddenly spring back to life, but ultimately he lost interest. "Throw that in the grinder and notify Central. Execution enacted as writ: death by short-drop hanging. Tell them... tell them she hanged for an hour. It's not like anyone will check."
Left alone at last, the Watch-Captain turned his cybernetic eyes to the horizon, looking towards a distant city that he served from afar. Dark clouds and a cold breeze spoke of the coming winter, the grey storm turned amber by the setting sun. He watched the nothingness until the first, bold drop of rain dared to strike the flesh of his muzzle. Muttering a curse at the sky, the Watch-Captain returned to the darkness where he belonged, leaving the storm to wash away the last trace of Vrahlt.