Enslaved Read online

  Gods! Thrace knew he shouldn’t look—it was disrespectful and wrong. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her creamy brown skin and her full curves. She was like no female he had ever seen before and he longed to stroke all her exposed flesh and make her moan and come as she had last night.

  Of course, last night was about the passion berry residue, he reminded himself. Trin was doubtless never going to want to repeat it…which was why she was going to be very unhappy about some of the things his viewscreen searches had turned up.

  She was a strange mixture, he reflected. On one hand she was a self assured female, the captain of a star ship and a very competent leader. On the other, she was a virgin, having never actually been with anyone, even one of her own sex as was usual for her people. And she still seemed completely tied to the ideas she’d grown up with which was going to be a problem in the near future unless he was very much mistaken.

  “Mistress?” he said again and cleared his throat.

  “What?” Trin’s eyes flew open and she looked up at him and then down at herself. “What…what’s going on?” She began trying to straighten her night dress hastily. “I had the strangest dreams.”

  “What did you dream, Mistress?” Thrace averted his eyes pointedly though he wanted nothing more than to keep drinking her in.

  “That I was cold and you held me to warm me up and then I…I…” She stopped fighting with her twisted dress and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my Goddess, that was no dream, was it?”

  “Afraid not,” Thrace said.

  “I can’t believe I did those things.”

  From the corner of his eye, Thrace saw that his new mistress looked really upset.

  “You had to,” he said quickly. “It was the only way to finally rid yourself completely of the passion berry residue. If you hadn’t, you might still be having problems with it.”

  “Then…why didn’t you tell me to do that in the first place instead of offering to hold me?” she demanded.

  “Right,” Thrace said flatly. “You think you would have listened to me if I suggested out of the blue that you touch yourself until you came? Besides, you were freezing to start with—frostbite and sexual arousal don’t usually go hand in hand. I had to warm you up first before you could let yourself go there.”

  “I guess. But…I let you hold me and talk to me that way and you’re a male.” She still looked upset. “And the things you said to me…”

  “Were all true.” Thrace sat on the bed beside her. “But I only said them—I didn’t act on them. You remain pure—you’re still one of the Unpenetrated.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Trin still looked troubled. “I’m just thinking about what everyone back home on Zetta Prime would think if they knew. What they would say in the temple of the Goddess of Judgment if it was known that I—”

  “They don’t have to know,” Thrace told her. “And you shouldn’t worry about them or what they think or believe. Outdated beliefs are not going to get those crystals sold and make you solvent again.”

  “I suppose not.” Trin took a deep breath and threw back her shoulders—a distracting move that thrust her full breasts out. Thrace tried hard not to notice but her berry dark nipples made his mouth water to taste them. “You’re right—I’ll be fine,” she said resolutely.

  “I know I’m right,” he said roughly. “And you’re going to have to keep it in mind the whole time we’re on Yonnie Six at this damn celebration. Otherwise we’re not going to make it.”

  “Make it? What do you mean?” She frowned.

  Thrace took a deep breath. “Gods, how do I say this? Remember how I asked you what the Landra-Rey Celebration is all about and you said you had no idea?”

  “Yes? So?” She shrugged. “It probably has to do with the phases of one of Yonnie Six’s moons or a new fashion emerging or something like that.”

  “Wrong.” Thrace shook his head. “It’s none of those things.”

  “And you know this how, exactly?” She put a hand on her hip.

  “Because I’ve been doing searches while you were sleeping. Look.”

  He went to the viewscreen and pulled up one of his bookmarked searches. An elegant female in an old fashioned opaque lace dress and long, curling hair appeared on the viewscreen. Thrace pointed at her.

  “Mistress Landra—one of the first females to subdue a male to her service. Before that, the Yonnites eschewed all contact with males, much as your people on Zetta Prime do. But Mistress Landra started a trend—one that became a way of life when she took herself a body-slave.”

  “Why did she do it? Why did she decide she wanted a male?” Trin sounded puzzled.

  “Don’t know.” Thrace shrugged. “The site doesn’t go into that. But apparently she and her body-slave, Rey, were the ones who first laid the foundation of the mistress and slave relationship on Yonnie Six which used to be much more equal than it is now. The celebration is to commemorate what they started and highlight the ways a body-slave must serve his mistress.”

  “Really? They have a whole celebration for that?” Trin frowned at the viewscreen. “Weird.”

  “Well, not just the relationship between them,” Thrace said dryly. “There’s also the fact that he gave his life for hers when they were attacked by space pirates.”

  “He did? Why would he do that? Didn’t he hate being her slave?”

  “I don’t hate being yours,” Thrace remarked, looking at her.

  “And you’ve already risked your life for me,” Trin murmured, her eyes flicking over to his and away again quickly.

  “You risked a lot for me too,” Thrace reminded her. “We make a good team.”

  “So…maybe this celebration won’t be too difficult.” She sounded so hopeful he hated to burst her bubble. But she had to know what was coming before they took a pod down to Yonnie Six.

  “Well…” Thrace cleared his throat. “That really depends on you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The celebration can be rather…graphic in nature.”

  “Graphic?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Graphic how?”

  Thrace sighed. Might as well get it over with.

  “As in, a body-slave on Yonnie Six is expected to do much more for his mistress than simply guard her body. Listen…” He switched over to another site he’d bookmarked and read aloud. “A proper body-slave must be all things to his mistress. He must guard and protect her with his own life, if necessary but that is only the beginning of his duties. He must also groom her—wash her hair, bathe her, soften her skin with lotion or oil and massage her sore or tired muscles to be certain she is well rested. In addition, he must dress her, wait on her, anticipate her every need and tend to her sexual desires so that she is never wanting or in need.” He looked up at Trin and raised an eyebrow. “Beginning to get the picture?”

  “All right.” She nodded, seemingly taking all this in stride. “I’ve been in Yonnite high society before—I know that some mistresses use their body-slaves in a sexual capacity. And we can certainly pretend that we do that.”

  “We may have to do more than pretend,” Thrace pointed out. “Especially if we’re on display with a bunch of Yonnie mistresses who are hyper-alert for any wrong behavior. Some of the things I’m supposed to do in order to serve you—”

  “We’ll pretend,” Trin said firmly. “Just because we’re going among all the decadent, sexually depraved Yonnites doesn’t mean I have to turn into one of them.” She looked at him. “I promised you I wouldn’t use you for sexual purposes and I meant it, Thrace.”

  Thrace sighed. Like he would mind if she did want to use him for such purposes. After holding her soft, sweet body in his arms while she gasped and cried and came the night before, he would be willing to do almost anything for her. But he knew she was off limits. Might as well stop fantasizing, he told himself roughly. She’s never going to let you in. She’s the mistress, you’re the slave. And even if you weren’t, being with a male is against her fucking
religion—she’s one of the Unpenetrated. There’s no way it’s ever going to happen.

  “As you wish, Mistress,” he said formally. “Then may I suggest that we get you dressed in some of the latest Yonnite fashions? I synthesized a few from the searches I did on the viewscreen while you were asleep.”

  “You did?” She sounded surprised. “Forgive me, Thrace, but you don’t seem like the kind of male to care much about women’s fashions.”

  “No, but the Yonnites care,” he growled. “Part of my job as your slave is to make sure you’re well dressed and presentable at all times. I take that seriously.” Not to mention he’d enjoyed picking a few of the more interesting gowns he’d found for her to wear.

  “All right.” Trin sighed. “Let’s see what we’ve got. Time to get dressed up and go meet Lady Malroth.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I don’t like this outfit,” Trin muttered for perhaps the fortieth time as she walked carefully down the colorful gemstone path to Lady Tam-tam’s estate in the sky-high shoes Thrace had synthesized for her on the Sym-printer. It was an expensive machine that Trin had invested in on the off chance she ever found herself stuck in deep space needing a spare part for the ship. In such a dire emergency, it could save her life and the lives of her crew by simply printing out a replacement part. But somehow the big Havoc had found a way to make it print dresses and shoes as well as a new outfit for himself—which covered considerably more than hers did, she noted resentfully.

  Her dress was beautiful but bizarre—a buttery yellow satin affair that went well with her light brown skin tones. Trin had no problem with the color—it was the cut that bothered her.

  The top of the dress went all the way up to her the throat almost like a choker and ended right under her ears. But despite the severe top, the gown wasn’t modest at all—there was a triangular opening cut in the butter yellow satin which framed her breasts.

  A panel of lighter yellow lace stretched across it but it was thin—nearly see-through. The curves of her breasts and the tight points of her nipples were clearly visible, pressing against the soft lace as though they were trying to escape. In fact, they actually were. Trin had already had some trouble with the top panel trying to pull free of its moorings. It was stretched too tightly across her full breasts and threatening to come loose at any time.

  Below, the dress wasn’t much better. Though it fell modestly to her ankles, there was a similar triangle framing her pelvis with another panel of thin lace that did little or nothing to hide her sex.

  Perhaps most troubling of all, both panels of lace were detachable—for what reason Trin didn’t want to imagine. She had wanted to synthesize some suitable undergarments to go beneath the ludicrous dress but apparently they weren’t in fashion at the moment. So here she was, on display and tottering down the gemmed pathway to the Lady Tam-tam’s estate feeling as naked as if she had no clothing on at all.

  “You don’t have to like the damn outfit,” Thrace growled under his breath from his place behind her. “You just have to wear it.”

  He himself was wearing only his black and silver studded pain collar with a leash and a pair of black leather trousers. But they were not the same ones he’d had on when she bought him. These trousers covered only his thighs and lower legs—the crotch and ass area were completely missing. However, there was a sort of silky black loin cloth that he wore belted around his lean waist which mercifully covered both areas. But even with that cover, he was going to look obscene if he got…aroused—which he had when Trin had first come out of the fresher in the ridiculous dress.

  “Gods,” he’d muttered, looking her over as she smoothed down the dress nervously. “Fucking gorgeous.”

  “It’s ridiculous.” Trin had been irritated to feel her cheeks heating under his scrutiny. She’d never had anyone look at her the way the big Havoc did—as though she was a luscious piece of fruit and he was dying to take a bite. “Stop staring if the dress is giving you a…a problem.” She motioned at the tent rising under the black loincloth at his waist.

  “It’s not the dress—it’s what’s inside it,” Thrace had growled. But he had dragged his eyes away and continued packing her things, which he had miniaturized and now carried in a small black case at his side.

  Trin was carrying a small yellow bag that matched her dress and contained the remote to his pain collar. She also held the end of his leash—which she had objected to.

  “The collar is enough,” she’d pointed out.

  “Not in Yonnite high society it’s not,” Thrace had said. “They like to dominate their males hard. You’re going to have to do the same if you want to fit in.” He grinned at her. “Treat me like dirt, Mistress—that’s what they’ll be expecting.”

  “But I don’t want to do that! And I don’t see how you can suggest it,” Trin had protested. “How could you stand it if I treated you like that?”

  “I can stand it because I know you don’t want to do it—that you don’t mean it.” Thrace had looked at her seriously. “Look, let’s just do what we have to in order to sell the crystals.”

  “All right.” Trin had nodded reluctantly. “I understand. I know you want to get this over and done with as much as I do so you can be free again. But Thrace, you really don’t have to do this. If you want to leave I’ll take the pain collar off and drop you at the nearest station or anywhere you want.”

  “I don’t want to leave—I’m fucking well going to see this through,” he’d growled. “So do what you have to do and don’t worry about me—I’ve been through worse.”

  His eyes shifted away as he spoke and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask what he meant. When had he been through worse and what were the details? If her first guess about him had been correct, she might have assumed he was talking about his treatment at the hands of his old master or mistress. But they’d established that wasn’t true. He had never been a slave—he’d been off freedom fighting to keep the Lud’oms from taking over his home planet. So what was he talking about?

  Somehow Trin had managed to stifle the question. There was a foreboding look in the big Havoc’s piercing eyes that told her he wasn’t ready to talk about that time in his life. Besides a few dark, cryptic hints, his past was sealed. And since they were going to part ways as soon as they did this deal with lady Malroth, she would probably never find out…

  “At least the scenery is pretty,” she remarked, looking around as they walked down the winding gemstone path. Despite the path’s shiny rainbow appearance, the rest of the park grounds were surprisingly unmanicured. Long, slender trees without leaves raised their naked branches to the sky and there were clumps of itch-grass growing at intervals between them. The estate was set in the foothills of a large range of rusty reddish-brown mountains with the mansion in the middle perched on the first gentle slope that led up the steep face of the nearest peak.

  Trin liked the natural, wild look of the parklands surrounding the big rambling white and brown house. It reminded her a little of the pastures where she let Swift and Silk out to run. She wondered briefly if Lady Tam-tam kept any kind of domestic animals for riding here. It had been a long time since she’d been on horseback and she would welcome the chance to go out galloping—on whatever mount she could find.

  “Look sharp—we have company,” Thrace hissed from behind her.

  Trin dragged her eyes from the lovely rustic scenery and saw Lady Malroth tottering down the path towards them. Her heels were even higher that Trin’s, if that was possible, and her hair was definitely higher. It was twisted up into a fantastical pink swirl that towered three feet above her head at least and matched her bright pink dress. Behind her walked a broad shouldered, muscular slave who was quite short. He was barely as tall as she was but his muscular physique still made him imposing. He had a stern, watchful look on his face as he stalked along behind his mistress.

  “There you are!” Lady Malroth managed to totter a little quicker. Her eyes flickered over Trin’s dress wh
ich was very similar to her own bright pink one and then scanned Thrace’s broad form with approval. “And I see that this time you are perfectly accessorized—excellent.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Trin said, trying to keep her voice neutral. “I have the crystals with me so if you’d like to find someplace private to work out the deal—”

  “Deal? Before we’ve even been to the first reception?” Lady Malroth sounded offended. “I couldn’t possibly!”

  “So…you want us…I mean me to be seen at the reception with you before we can deal?” Trin asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Why?”

  “Because I’m sponsoring you! It was the only way to get your name on the guest list. It would look very odd for me to put myself out like that and then you not even show up to the first reception. So yes, you must come.”

  “All right.” Trin suppressed a sigh. “I’ll be there. With my slave, of course.” She gave a gentle tug on the black leather leash she was holding and Thrace bowed respectfully.

  “As my lady wishes,” he rumbled, playing the part of the perfect body-slave to a T.

  “About your slave,” Lady Malroth said. “I was actually just coming to warn you—when you meet Lady Tam-tam you have to remember she’s a little, well…different. She has these ideas about males and females and how they ought to interact and well…let’s just say she’s eccentric. Also, she’s a terrible voyeur. So what you need to keep in mind is—”

  “Ah, my children—how lovely to see you all here on the rainbow path to enlightenment.” The soft, fruity voice appeared to be coming from behind a prickly yanda bush. Its spiny leaves rustled and then an older woman with snow white hair arranged in a rather messy bun on top of her head emerged from behind it.

  “Lady Tam-tam!” Lady Malroth looked confused and distressed—doubtless she was wondering how much the other woman had heard of what she was saying to Trin.

  “Lady Malroth.” Lady Tam-tam inclined her head gracefully. She was wearing a simple flowing brown dress that covered her everywhere and comfortable looking flat shoes, Trin saw enviously. Either she was too old to care about fashion or she was simply wearing what was comfortable here at her own estate. Either way, Trin envied her—she really missed her own black flight jumpsuit and worn boots.