Accidental Acquisition Read online

  Jillian had never had a lover like this before—most men just fumbled around for a few minutes before wanting to get to the “main event” which, of course, was sex. But it seemed clear that with Kalis, her pleasure was the main event. He just wanted to make her come.

  She moaned and arched her back again as he continued to stroke around and around the aching button of her clit while he sucked and licked her nipples. She was close—so close. She was going to come soon if he didn’t stop, but God, she didn’t want him to stop!

  All her life Jillian had been reading romance books about heroines whose bodies “betrayed them” when it came to sex—losing control with the handsome hero and doing things they knew they shouldn’t do. She had always thought that was bullshit—just a literary device to make the sex scenes flow more smoothly.

  But now, she was actually experiencing it herself. And oh, God—it felt amazing to just give up control and let the big Kindred take her where she needed to go.

  “Kalis,” she moaned. “Oh God, I’m so close…so close! Don’t stop—right there!”

  He let her nipple slip from his mouth and murmured in her ear.

  “Not going to stop until you come for me, Jillian—come all over my fingers while I pet your soft little pussy. Just let it all go and give it up for me.”

  Those hot words spoken in his deep, growling voice as much as the way he was touching her finally pushed Jillian over the edge. She cried out breathlessly as her pleasure peaked and the wire that had been tightening in her belly finally snapped.

  Oh God, coming…coming just like he told me to!

  And then she felt Kalis enter her pussy with two long, thick fingers and slide deep inside her, to the very end of her channel. As he fucked deeply into her, Jillian felt another, deeper orgasm washing over her like a wave. She moaned and bucked her hips up, feeling her inner muscles clench around the big Kindred’s fingers.

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” Kalis rumbled in her ear. “Come for me—Gods, I can feel your soft little pussy clenching so hard. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come!”

  Jillian moaned breathlessly in response. To be honest, she was beginning to feel a little lightheaded—almost overloaded with the intense pleasure. The rainbows she’d seen outlining everything earlier were back. When she looked up, the big Kindred seemed to be wearing a multicolored halo and the dim golden light in the relaxation grotto was flickering alarmingly.

  “Too…too much,” she gasped. “I…I can’t…”

  But then words failed her and the flickering lights went out completely.

  12

  Gods, was she all right? Had the intense orgasms put too much strain on her body?

  “Mistress? Jillian?” Kalis withdrew his fingers and looked down at the little female with deep concern. She had seemed fine up until her second orgasm and then she had suddenly fainted. Though to be honest, he didn’t feel so good himself, he suddenly realized.

  Looking around the room, he saw that everything had an odd rainbow tinge to it. The taste of the massage oil—which was slightly floral—was heavy on his tongue and he felt strangely lightheaded. It was as though he was back in the ring at the Blood Circuit and an opponent had struck him in the head.

  Kalis frowned. What in the Seven Hells was going on? Why was he suddenly so dizzy? Had there been something in that lapsong oil? Had it been lapsong oil at all?

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed that his old Mistress had lifted her head and was watching him closely. But she didn’t look upset or concerned. Instead, her lavender eyes were narrowed in a calculating way, as though she was waiting for something.

  “Mistress…Douchenbag?” he mumbled and then fell heavily to his knees. “What…?”

  “Almost,” he heard her say, but she wasn’t talking to him. “In just another moment it will finally have taken effect.”

  “I thought it would take much sooner.” The voice that answered her was that of Torris, the head bodyslave who ran the Yonnite spa for his Mistress, who owned the establishment. He was the same one who had let them in and assigned them to the rose-gold relaxation grotto in the first place. And apparently he had been plotting something with Mistress Douchenbag.

  Kalis tried to focus on the other male, who was standing beside Mistress Douchenbag’s massage table, but the rainbows were too bright. His vision was filled with them and every image he saw was doubled and then trebled. What in the Seven Hells was happening to him?

  As he wondered this, he lost the last of his balance and fell heavily to the floor.

  Never, he thought groggily. Never been knocked out by an opponent in the ring! I’m undefeated—how can this be?

  Yet somehow, it was happening. He felt his eyes closing, but he could still hear. He tried to get up but his limbs were too heavy to move—he couldn’t even twitch a finger.

  “Finally!” he heard Mistress Douchenbag exclaim. “Why did it take so long?”

  “The molock oil is a topical agent,” Torris answered. “It takes time to soak into the skin and take effect and it’s more effective once it comes in contact with mucus membranes. Though I did put twice as much as I thought was necessary into the massage oil,” he added. “But Kindred are tough—it takes a lot to knock them out.”

  “Well, now that they’re both finally completely out, we need to dispose of them,” Mistress Douchenbag said.

  “Are you certain about that, Mistress?” Torris asked, sounding worried. “You know the penalty for harming another Mistress.”

  “Oh, that little bitch isn’t really a Yonnite Mistress,” Douchenbag hissed spitefully. “She’s some little humanoid from a backwards planet where they don’t see fit to subjugate males. Everything would have been fine if she would just have agreed to take that stupid Kindred off my hands. But, nooo— she got up on her high horse and started lecturing me about how owning males as bodyslaves is ‘wrong’ and ‘reprehensible’. Imagine!” She snorted in derision.

  “Yes, well, some people have strange ideas,” Torris said neutrally. “But are you sure you’d rather dispose of the Kindred rather than sell him? His reputation as a champion in the Blood Circuit makes him quite valuable.”

  “Not anymore,” Mistress Douchenbag scoffed. “He’s too old to fight now and I can’t sell him to any other Mistress as a bodyslave because of what happened last week. Why, it was the talk of every Yonnite in the market—all my peers know about that horrible beast he changes into!”

  “Yes, I had heard about that from my own Mistress,” Torris admitted. “A massive Ursus was it?”

  “Huge!” Mistress Douchenbag exclaimed. “He burst the pain collar right off his neck—his last Mistress never said anything about needing an expanding one, you know, so I chose a cheaper model because you know how expensive those collars can be!”

  “Having worn one all my life, I know a little something about pain collars,” Torris said dryly.

  “Anyway, I haven’t dared to put another one on him or to turn my back on him ever since I saw him change,” Mistress Douchenbag said. “I haven’t gotten a wink of shuteye in over a week for fear he would murder me in my sleep! And since everyone knows about his condition, there’s no selling him—not even to that little humanoid idiot, ‘Mistress Jillian’. So we must get rid of them both—at once!”

  “But what would you have me do with them, Mistress?” Torris asked. “At any moment your two friends are going to wake up from the dose of sleepytime I put into their tea and you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Have several of the bodyslaves bring them through my private tunnel to my stall,” Douchenbag answered. “I’m close to the Dark Market—we can dump them in there and let fate take care of them. They won’t last long on the wrong side of the barrier.”

  “I don’t have enough bodyslaves to bring them both at once,” Torris objected. “The Kindred alone will take six of my strongest to carry—he’s build like a Tenebrian ox!”

  “Well then, dispose of the
female first,” Mistress Douchenbag directed. “Oh, and be sure you take her clothes and all her other things with her—I don’t want any traces left behind. Of course, there is the matter of my ion-scoop…” She sounded like she was deliberating.

  “Do you wish me to get it for you from her clothing before we take her?” Torris asked.

  “No…no, let it stay among her things,” Mistress Douchenbag decided. “I can always say that she stole it and ran into the Dark Market to try and evade me if any of this ever comes to light. And I think I’ll take a little vacation back to Opulex as soon as you leave with her—just to be on the safe side.”

  “Understood,” Torris said. “We’ll bring the woman and dump her first and then come back for the Kindred. They’ve both had enough molock oil that they shouldn’t wake up for a while.”

  “Not until it’s too late, anyway.” Mistress Douchenbag snickered nastily. “This will teach that nasty little female to be so self-righteous! I hope she enjoys her time in the Dark Market—short though it will probably be!”

  Though he was drugged and unable to move, Kalis tried desperately to open his lips and protest this idea. He could survive the Dark Market—well, if he could regain the functions of his body, he could—but Jillian would be in terrible danger. Anyone who entered the Dark Market was considered fresh meat and the rightful prey of whoever got to them first—a female alone without someone to protect her had next to no chance of survival.

  But even as he thought this, the drug in his system seemed to grow stronger and he felt his consciousness fading.

  No! he thought. No, I can’t pass out—I must be awake to protect Jillian! Please, Goddess…

  But then even his hearing seemed to fade and he knew no more.

  13

  Jillian woke up in a dark, dirty corner, naked and covered in massage oil and gritty dust and dirt from the hard surface she was lying on.

  At first she had no idea of what was going on. Her last jumbled memory was of having Kalis’s hands on her and the intense orgasms he had given her. But she’d been lying on a massage table in the opulent rose-gold relaxation grotto, surrounded by pampered Mistresses. Her current circumstances couldn’t be more different from her former ones.

  Look at me, she thought, peering around the gloomy, dirty, dusty corner, but not attempting to rise yet. Naked and dirty in the dark—guess I’ve come down in the world. Whatever world this is. Am I still on Prius Six? Am I still in the market?

  She blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of what was going on around her. Her vision was blurry and she couldn’t seem to see anything further away than her own extended arm and hand.

  What’s wrong with my eyes? Why do I feel so dizzy? Where is everyone?

  She seemed to hear the sounds of people passing somewhere in the distance, but none of them sounded familiar or seemed to notice her lying there, in the shadows.

  Jillian looked around, trying to make her eyes work right. There was a strange bluish radiation coming down from overhead. It made the rag beside her head glow a brilliant white, as though she was in a club with a black light. Did that mean it was night here on Prius Six? Did the moon make this strange light that caused white objects to glow? She had never been here at night before, so she had no idea.

  She picked uncertainly at the “rag” and found, to her surprise, that it was her bra. And lying next to it, in a jumbled pile, were her panties, jeans, and t-shirt—also glowing because it was white as well.

  Jillian still felt weak and drugged, her limbs responding sluggishly to her brain’s commands as she levered herself laboriously into a seated position. Had the tea Mistress Douchenbag given her been laced with something? But her poison checker had given it a green light!

  Still, she couldn’t think of any other explanation as she brushed the dirt off her oily skin as best she could and began putting on her bra and underwear, which rubbed uncomfortably against her gritty skin. It was uncomfortable but better than being completely naked in public—she felt less vulnerable once her underclothes were on.

  Now for her jeans and t-shirt. But her arms and legs were even dirtier than the rest of her. She started to use the back of her t-shirt to wipe the dusty oil off her skin, but she hated to smear grease and dirt all over it.

  “Ugh, such a mess,” she muttered to herself. “Why did he use so much oil on me, anyway? Wish I had a washcloth or something to wipe off with!”

  “Here you go,” someone beside her said, handing her a handkerchief.

  “Oh, thank you.” Still feeling dizzy and out of it, Jillian took the cloth—which glowed a brilliant white in the strange blue light—and wiped at her arms and legs.

  It didn’t occur to her to wonder who had handed her the handkerchief in the first place—her brain still felt like someone had put it through the blender—and whoever it was, didn’t say anything else. They only stood quietly to one side, out of her line of vision. It all seemed rather like a dream—where you wish for something and it appears.

  As Jillian wiped away the oil, her head began to feel less fuzzy and her vision cleared somewhat. She became aware that people were passing back and forth, about ten or twelve meters away, though none of them seemed to notice her here, in the dark corner where she had woken up.

  She couldn’t really see the people clearly, but they seemed to be leaving the blue-lit space and passing through a long black curtain that led to someplace lighter. At least, if the flashes of weak golden light she saw whenever someone went through the curtain were any indication.

  Hmm, a long black curtain that people keep going through… a dark space filled with weird blue radiation…

  Suddenly, her drug-scrambled brain put two and two together and the implications of what she was seeing hit her—the Dark Market! She was inside the Dark Market!

  “Holy shit!” Jillian mumbled.

  Getting unsteadily to her feet, she scrambled clumsily into her jeans. She swayed drunkenly, nearly falling as she attempted to get her feet into the leg holes, and kept having to hold onto the tall wall beside her. Luckily, there were no pain threads on this side of it, like there were on the regular market side.

  But once she got her feet in, the damn jeans didn’t want to pull up—the denim was sticking to the oil on her legs and thighs, that she hadn’t been able to get completely off with the handkerchief. Grimly, Jillian tugged them into place. She had to get dressed and get out of here! Every minute she was inside the Dark Market was a minute she was in danger. She—

  “Well, now that you’re dressed, are you ready to go, girly?”

  Jillian had been concentrating on trying to button her jeans when her hands were still slippery with oil and her fingers didn’t seem to want to work right. The voice floating down to her was high and strangely familiar.

  Like someone talking after they sucked in helium from a balloon, she thought, peering up into the darkness. Suddenly a huge shape stepped out of the shadows and into the full light of the blue radiation overhead.

  Jillian looked up…and up and up. Horror gripped her like a cold hand around her heart.

  It was Ripper, the two-headed Trollox who had taken her grample and offered it back to her earlier. Both heads were staring at her greedily and the one with the red eyes was drooling through its thick yellow tusks.

  “Are you done with our hanky now?” asked the yellow-eyed head, grinning at her.

  “Y-your what?” Jillian didn’t like the way her voice trembled.

  “Our hanky, girly. What we gave you to clean up with.” One massive hand gestured to the dirty, greasy, no-longer white handkerchief clutched in one of Jillian’s hands.

  “You gave it to me?” she gasped. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as the huge Trollox nodded with both heads. Hadn’t Kalis told her something about how if someone gave her a gift, she was legally obligated to give one in return by market rules?

  “We did indeed. And now that you owe us, it’s time to collect,” the head with the yellow eyes
informed her. Its yellow irises glowed fiercely in the blue radiation, making the huge creature look even stranger and more frightening than it had out in the normal light of the main market.

  “What…what do you want?” Jillian was dressed now—well, mostly dressed. She hadn’t put her t-shirt on yet, but now she didn’t want to risk covering her face, even for a second. She clutched it to her chest instead, trying to edge away from the massive Trollox.

  “Going, are you, sweet girlie?” the yellow-eyed head inquired in its high, helium-sucking voice. “Before you even repay your debt?”

  “Please…” Jillian backed away from the Trollox, trying to aim for the long black curtain in the archway of the entrance to the Dark Market. If she could just get through it, she would be safe! No one was allowed to hurt anyone in the main part of the Buy-All-Sell-All Market. But here in the Dark Market, all bets were off. Anyone could do anything to her and there were no legal consequences. She had to get out of here!

  “Hey now, girlie, you don’t look too steady on your feet,” the yellow-eyed head observed. “Why don’t you let old Ripper help you?”

  “Not too steady! Not too steady!” the red-eyed head repeated and then roared with laughter. “Hyuck-hyuck-hyuck!”

  “Shut up, you!” The yellow-eyed head shot its brother a glare of annoyance before focusing on Jillian again. “As I said, you don’t look too good, sweet girlie. Why don’t you come to my shop and we can have a lovely cup of tea and get to know each other better? Then we can discuss repayment of your debt in a civilized manner.”

  “Civilized—civilized! Hyuck-hyuck!” the red-eyed head chortled.

  Jillian shook her head frantically, still edging away.

  “I…I’ll have to pay you later. Right now, I have to get home. Sorry!”

  She had been trying to get closer to the entrance and exit to the Dark Market before she made a run for it, but the massive Trollox was looming over her, its eyes glowing in the strange bluish light like a monster from a nightmare. Its breath smelled like dead things and the drool from the red-eyed head was falling in long, viscous droplets to the ground right by her bare feet. Suddenly, she couldn’t take it anymore—she broke and ran.