Enslaved

by Evangeline Anderson

  “You have to go, right?” she asked, looking at him directly. No point in beating around the bush.

  He looked at her mistrustfully and then gave a short, curt nod.

  Great! Just great. Her suspicion confirmed, she sighed internally. Not only had she bought a slave who was angry and hostile, she was now his sole caretaker since she and Sidna had had their falling out. And she was going to have to help him since she didn’t dare to let him help himself.

  Well, luckily the med-bot was set up for this kind of thing. It had a long, sliver tube that connected to various parts of the anatomy for waste disposal. As long as all he had to do was urinate, it shouldn’t be too bad.

  “Okay,” she said, reaching for the clasp of his too-tight black leather trousers. “Now I don’t know a lot about male anatomy but—”

  A low rumbling growl began at the bottom of his deep chest and turned into a full throated roar of pure rage.

  The deep, bass noise shook and surprised her. It reminded her again of the sound made by the lions from Earth which she’d studied. Maybe he was part animal after all!

  Trin jumped back and looked up to see him glaring at her with such intense hatred on his face it hit her like a blow.

  Goddess, what’s wrong with him? She’d never seen such fury and all because she’d tried to help him. All because she was going to open his trousers and…Oh.

  Suddenly she understood. She’d told him that she bought him as a slave and that she came from Zetta Prime. Possibly he thought her people used body slaves the same way the mistresses from Yonnie Six did. Another look at the way his broad chest was heaving and his big body was twitching confirmed her guess. He looked like her stallion, Swift, when he was nervous and ready to rear. When he got like that, he would shy and lash out at the least little thing and the big Havoc, Thrace, looked the same way.

  Trin had no idea how to deal with a strange male but she did know how to gentle a nervous horse.

  “Look,” she said softly in a low, even voice. “I’m not going to hurt or abuse you. I know what you must think but I didn’t buy you for any kind of sexual service, I swear.”

  He had stopped struggling now and was simply looking at her. His muscular chest was still heaving but at least his eyes had lost some of the intense hatred that had filled their silver-blue depths when she reached for his trousers.

  “I’m not that kind of female.” Trin risked a touch on his arm—gentle and non-sexual. He still couldn’t move but she could feel him thrumming like a plucked string—as tight as a wire with tension. It wasn’t just hatred and anger he felt—it was fear. A fear so deep it harrowed his very soul.

  Though she was trying to remain detached and calm, his terror touched her heart. No wonder he was afraid—she would be too if she’d woken up in a strange place chained to the bed with someone reaching for the front of her trousers.

  “It’s okay,” she reassured him again. “I have no interest in males at all but someone has to get you connected to the med-bot so you can relieve yourself. See?” She held up the long, snaky silver tube with its soft plasti-coupling on the end. “I just need to get this connected with your, uh, equipment and then you can go.”

  His eyes blazed at her for a long moment and Trin thought she could feel him evaluating her motives. He was asking himself once again if he trusted her—just as he had when she offered him the drink. Then she’d been able to take a drink herself and prove it was all right. Unfortunately with this exercise, she wasn’t able to prove anything. So she simply waited quietly, meeting his silver-blue gaze and letting him size her up.

  Finally, he nodded.

  “All right, good,” Trin said briskly, reaching for his trousers again. “Let’s see if we can get this done as quickly as possible.”

  * * * * *

  Thrace gritted his teeth as he watched her slim, brown hands unfasten the magno tabs at the front of the too-tight black leather trousers the slavers had forced him to wear. Gods, this was humiliating! Not just the fact that he needed her help to relieve himself, but also the way he’d reacted to her touch in the first place.

  His people, the Havoc, did not bond with females or have any kind of long-lasting relationships with them. In fact, the Havoc code was, We do not bond. But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy female attention from time to time. Usually he sought out some willing prosti whenever The Empress was docked for repairs or refueling and scratched his itch that way.

  He was always careful to use protection and he always paid in advance—he was a good customer and he enjoyed unattached sex—enjoyed it a hell of a lot. And yet the minute this gorgeous girl with the unusual creamy brown skin like nothing he’d ever seen before reached for him, he went fucking crazy.

  It was his past again, trying to creep in—Thrace knew it but he didn’t want to admit it. Instead, he tried to calm his nerves but it wasn’t easy. The feeling of lying here helpless while someone else handled his shaft was fucking terrifying. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go—he liked to be in control, liked to be on top of the situation both literally and figuratively.

  Relax, he told himself roughly as she got his trousers unfastened at last and pealed the too-tight leather apart. She said herself this is nothing sexual. She has no interest in males. So just relax and try to endure it.

  He closed his eyes as she reached for him but cutting off the light let the rush of dark memories overcome him again.

  Let’s have a look at this shaft, the Master said, reaching for him. Nice, very nice…

  Thrace snapped his eyes open again. Gods, what was wrong with him? He hadn’t thought of those bad, old memories in years. Had been sure he was over it, over and done with the things that fucker had done to him. But this situation was bringing everything back like a flood of dirty water seeping under the door of his conscious mind. It was as if everything he’d tried so hard to forget was just waiting there, waiting for the right trigger to move back into his brain and set up shop.

  Desperately, he focused on the girl in front of him, on her lovely hands as she reached for him. They were long and slim with the unusual creamy brown skin color—completely unlike the hairy, liver-spotted hands of his old Master. Her fingers were long and tapered and delicate and her touch was gentle, not rough.

  Not the Master, he told himself over and over. She’s just a girl—a female you don’t even know. She’s not the Master.

  Her touch was reassuringly impersonal. Thrace was relieved when she didn’t linger overlong as she touched him. She simply pulled his shaft out of his trousers in a matter of fact way and inserted it into the soft end of the flexible metal tube.

  He was completely limp, despite her beauty and the soft touch of her small hands. In other circumstances, if she’d been a willing prosti he was visiting, he would have been hard as a rock. But the feeling of complete helplessness, of being unable to control what was happening to him, robbed him of any desire he might have felt.

  And even if he had been inclined to get hard, this girl looked nothing like a prosti. She had an innate class and regality that professional sex workers lacked. She was what his Sire would have called a “lady.” Not the kind of female for a quick fuck and run—his favored way of scratching the sexual itch.

  When the operation was finished and he had relieved himself, she unhooked him from the metal tubing and tucked his shaft neatly back into his trousers. It went meekly back to position, curled like a sleeping snake against his belly.

  “There.” She re-fastened his trousers rose from the side of the cot. “Now I need to go check on some things—this ship won’t run itself and I need to get the navigator to plot a new course. Will you be all right for now?”

  Slowly, he nodded.

  “Good. I’ll be back to check on you later and bring you something to eat. Try to rest.”

  Then she was gone, leaving a faint, lingering scent of sweetness behind her.

  * * * * *

  Trin was distracted for hours after her encounter w
ith her new slave. He bothered her…and not just because she suspected something serious had happened with his last Master. There was something about the huge Havoc she’d spent her entire bank account on that drew her. But what? Well, there was the fact that he was so different from anyone she’d ever known for one thing—she couldn’t help remembering his rippling abs and muscular biceps. She had never been around males much—certainly not enough to develop an appreciation for the male physique. But even she had to admit that the big Havoc was impressive.

  But it wasn’t just the way he looked that interested her—it was the way he acted. The way he’d distrusted her at first when she tried to give him a drink, the way he’d flinched from her touch and his deep, bass roar the first time she’d tried to open his trousers.

  Why did he dread being touched? What did he fear? What had happened to him to make him that way?

  Maybe something the slavers or his old master did to him, she speculated idly as she checked and re-checked the new course the navigator had set for the Demon’s Eye. Maybe just waking up in a strange place and finding himself chained down. That would be disturbing to anyone—I sure as hell wouldn’t want it happening to me!

  She hoped she might be able to let him up eventually but that wasn’t going to happen until she got some answers out of him. Anyway, there was no denying he was easier to manage in his current condition. Even lying on his back, the Havoc was huge—every part of him more than twice as big as every part of her and she was considered tall and well proportioned for a female on her home planet. Plus, she’d felt his terrifying strength for herself first hand. She touched her bruised throat and winced. No pun intended.

  Just keep treating him like a spooked horse, she told herself. After all, her equine pets outweighed and outmassed her many times over and she still managed them quite nicely. Of course, neither of them had ever tried to throttle her.

  Trin sighed, thinking of them now. Her stallion, Swift, galloping in the pastures of purple grass and pink gana flowers in the fields by her mother’s house…and her mare, Silk, tossing her glossy main and neighing like thunder the moment she caught sight of Trin coming over the rolling hills towards her.

  The two of them were old now and they had never managed to breed for some reason. Every time Trin spoke to her mother she was afraid one or both of them might be gone but they carried on, always happy to greet her when she made one of her increasingly infrequent trips home.

  But could she really equate the Havoc she’d inadvertently bought to the large equine pets she’d left back home? For all his voice didn’t allow him to speak much, he at least was able to manage a few words. And there was awareness burning in his striking eyes—intelligence she couldn’t deny just because he was male. Intelligence and something else…some veiled threat or barely buried rage she couldn’t name but also couldn’t discount.

  Trin decided she would have to keep a close eye on him. Though she hated to admit it, Sidna was right about one thing—the Havoc was big enough and strong enough to cause a lot of damage and injury if he went on some kind of a rampage.

  She patted the stunner in the pocket of her black flight jumpsuit. She wasn’t going to give him a second chance unless he earned it.

  Chapter Five

  Thrace lost track of the time he spent chained to the narrow cot. He spent many long hours trying to force the memories which had been unearthed like half-rotted corpses back into their crypts. It wasn’t easy. Being restrained and unable to do anything for himself brought the past back strongly—too strongly to be denied or ignored.

  To counter it, Thrace instinctively knew he needed something positive. Something to take his mind off what he had suffered, something to distract him from the agonies of the past.

  He chose his new mistress, Trin.

  Not that she was really his mistress—he sure as hell wouldn’t call her that even if she had bought and paid for him. He did accord her the title of “captain.” She owned the ship he was prisoner on and kept the crew in order and she appeared to do it effortlessly—though he knew from personal experience it was much harder than it looked.

  He could hear her talking to various crew members from time to time since their voices echoed in the long, metal corridors and he had to reluctantly acknowledge that she handled herself and her responsibilities well.

  Her calm self possession in the face of his own rage was also remarkable. Thrace had known fully grown males who cowered when he was in one of his moods. Trin simply spoke gently and looked at him with those big, dark eyes, meeting his gaze without fear or any anger of her own.

  All in all, impressive.

  Not to mention fucking gorgeous—a fact he mostly noticed at night.

  Though she mostly dressed in the black flight jumpsuit which covered her considerable curves, she always came to check on him before she went to sleep. At those times, she was usually dressed for bed and her sleep outfits were considerably more revealing than the jumpsuit—a fact that wasn’t lost on Thrace.

  Trin didn’t seem embarrassed to walk around half dressed in front of him at all. At first he’d thought she was deliberately teasing him. When she leaned over him, showing the creamy brown swells of her breasts or walked past his cot in a slip-like garment that barely covered her to mid thigh and showed her long, smooth legs, he was sure she was tormenting him on purpose.

  But gradually he came to understand she didn’t realize what she was doing. It was as though she thought of him as an animal—one of her pet horses which she had told him about when she came in to tend and check on him.

  It was fucking insulting and yet, probably not that surprising when he thought about it. After all, she came from a world virtually without males. How could she know the effect she was having on him? She probably did think of him as a kind of pet. After all, he was completely dependant on her for everything—food and water and shelter. How else would she see him?

  Thrace supposed she wouldn’t be embarrassed to let a pet see her half-naked and it didn’t bother her for him to see her that way either. The difference was, a pet didn’t get hard at the sight of his mistress half unclothed.

  Of course, at first, neither did Thrace. Being chained down and helpless was an effective damper for his lust—it was too much like his time with the old Master. The manacles around his wrists provoked too many painful memories.

  But as the days went by, he grew used to it—as used to it as he could, anyway. And as he grew accustomed to being restrained, it actually became easier to push the old memories away and concentrate on his new reality. And on Trin.

  The situation came to a head on the night when she came in, dressed for sleep in a thin, see-through white gown that fell to her thighs and a silky robe to match that belted loosely around her small waist. The berry-dark points of her nipples were clearly visible pressing against the thin fabric and when she bent over, he could see a hint of the wispy little panties she wore underneath.

  Gods! The sight of her lush body half unclothed as well as the sweet scent she always carried with her made his cock ache. She moved around his small room, often brushing against him since the space was so close, doing something with a basin of steaming water.

  “What are you doing?” His voice had finally come most of the way back though it was more of a hoarse growl than its normal timbre.

  “Getting ready to give you a bath.” Trin turned to face him, a friendly smile on her face. “I have to go away tomorrow and Sidna, our medic, is going to be looking after you. I want you to feel as comfortable and clean and happy as you can—under the circumstances.”

  “Someone else is going to be touching me? Handling me?” Thrace didn’t like the surge of panic the news caused in his chest. He’d gotten used to Trin hooking him to the medi-bot—her hands on him no longer caused the flood of unclean memories that had threatened to drown him at first. But he didn’t want someone new—someone besides Trin—touching him while he was chained helplessly to the cot. Just the thought made his jaw c
lench and his entire body feel tight.

  “I’m afraid it can’t be helped but it won’t be for long.” Trin stroked his arm soothingly, as though he was an animal that needed reassurance. “I just have to complete these negotiations for our new shipment and then I’ll be back. Now, let’s get you bathed.”

  “You’ve had me chained down for the Gods know how long,” he growled, deciding to revisit the issue later. “I suppose I’m starting to stink.”

  “Not really.” Trin frowned as she drew the steaming basin of water closer and dipped in a soft cloth. “Although you do have a very distinctive scent—warm and spicy and…I don’t even know how to describe it. A little bit like the leather saddle I use on my stallion, Swift.”

  “You treat your pet horse like you treat me?” Thrace asked as she bent over him, unconsciously showing those full, creamy breasts again. Gods, he could see right down her top to her nipples! “Wash him…” He cleared his throat. “Wash him when he gets dirty?”

  “Of course,” she said without a trace of irony as she wiped his chest and shoulders with the warm, damp cloth. “And I rub him down when he’s sore after a long ride. I take care of him because he’s my responsibility.”

  “The way you take care of me,” Thrace muttered. Her soft hand on his skin was doing things to him and the sight of her full breasts so close he could almost touch them was maddening. Gods, she was lovely! He shouldn’t want her—shouldn’t want the female who was his captor, his mistress, who had bought him body and soul and had him chained to a bed. But damned if he could help himself when he smelled her sweet scent and felt her touch on his flesh.

  “Yes, the way I take care of you.” Trin nodded. “You’re my responsibility, the same way—oh!” she gasped as she unfastened his trousers and his hard shaft sprang free.

  Thrace had been able to keep himself from getting completely hard when she handled him before—mostly it was the memories of his past that stopped his desire for her from coming to fruition. But it had been days since he’d had any sexual relief and seeing her dressed as she was and smelling her sweet scent was too much for him. He was hard as a rock and unable to help it.