Mastering the Mistress

  MASTERING THE MISTRESS

  by

  Evangeline Anderson

  A muscular slave turns the tables on his unsuspecting mistress and teaches her an erotic lesson in submission.

  Mastering the Mistress

  Copyright 2015 Evangeline Anderson

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First edition: April 2015

  Table of Contents

  MASTERING THE MISTRESS by Evangeline Anderson

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About The Author

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  Mastering the Mistress

  Evangeline Anderson

  A muscular slave turns the tables on his unsuspecting mistress and teaches her an erotic lesson in submission.

  Copyright 2015 Evangeline Anderson

  Chapter One

  “Sslaves! Fresh sslaves for ssale—sspecimens in their prime! Fresh from the Carnal Houses of Orchids Ssseven.”

  The hissing voice rang in Solar M’Tex’s ears constantly as one of the filthy slavers who had captured him and taken his freedom prowled around the vast, echoing dome of the Flesh Bazaar crying his wares.

  At least Solar assumed he was in the Flesh Bazaar. He was blindfolded so he couldn’t see a damn thing. But that was what he’d heard the slavers saying when he and Captain Thrace were captured.

  Carnal Houses of Orchids Seven my ass, he thought as the voice went on and on. The slavers were trying to pass him and Thrace off as highly trained pleasure slaves when nothing could be further from the truth. They were Havoc born and bred, the both of them, and though Solar flattered himself he could be very pleasing in the bedroom when he had a mind to be, he hadn’t exactly been classically trained in the erotic arts.

  When he first woke up in the dirty metal cage in the back of the slavers’ ship with a throbbing head and a tongue that tasted like he’d been eating dirt, he had thought it was a simple robbery. The drinks at the sleazy little port bar must have been spiked—a common enough trick for thieves who wanted to roll a few off-worlders and snatch their credits. But they’d lost a lot more than their spare change—freedom was now a thing of the past too.

  At first he’d thought they were headed for the Pendarian Mines in the Vega galaxy or maybe they’d be forced to become fighters in the Blood Arena. But the hissing voices of the reptilian Xethian slavers had set him straight. Like other Havocs, he had a natural talent for languages and the words “Flesh Bazaar” were hard to miss. Sex slaves. He and Thrace were being sold into sexual bondage and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.

  This is what we get for stopping on a fucking backwater planet like Padge for fuel and repairs, he thought grimly, But they’d had no choice—The Empress had a broken hydrogen scoop and they had run through their entire emergency supply of fuel just getting to the damn planet. There was no place else to stop for thousands of parsecs so it was Padge or nothing. And there hadn’t seemed to be any harm in getting a drink while the mech-droids looked the Empress over.

  Where was The Empress now? Probably the ship was still in dry dock and likely to remain there under the security code Thrace had placed on it. The rest of the crew might stay a few weeks—a solar month at most. Then, when it became apparent their captain and first mate weren’t coming back, they would drift away, looking for other employment. None of them were Havoc like he and Thrace were—they had no honor or loyalty among them.

  And forget about the ship—where was Thrace? They were in a tight spot and no mistake, but he was almost more worried about his captain than himself. Thrace hated slavery and anything to do with it. He refused to transport slavers on The Empress even when they offered three times the usual boarding price. Solar had once seen him take on three huge Jacian slavers at once in a bar fight though the cool and distant captain usually kept himself aloof from any kind of brawl.

  After knocking the three of them out, Thrace had taken their release mechanisms, found their ship, and set the entire shipment of slaves free. He’d done it all without a word but the dark look on his face had told Solar everything he needed to know. The entire crew had steered clear of the Captain for weeks after that.

  There was no doubt about it, Solar mused, Thrace had something personal against the entire slave trade though what it was, he had never confided to Solar. Then again, the Captain didn’t confide in anyone. He was a closed book, a quiet, brooding giant of a male who kept everyone at arm’s length, even Solar who had been working with him for the past seven years.

  Not that Solar was small himself. Havoc males were seldom less than six foot seven with muscles to match. Like their Kindred cousins, they possessed immense strength and stamina to go with their powerful physical forms. Unlike their cousins, they didn’t kowtow to the Goddess or bind themselves to females. Women were well enough when a male had an itch to scratch but a lasting relationship simply wasn’t in the cards. Havocs were nomads—they were smugglers and raiders, explorers and traders, not interested in settling down in one place and raising brats.

  Solar was no exception—he’d always scoffed at the stories of how the Kindred bound themselves to the females of their choice for the sake of “love.” A Havoc would never do such a foolish thing—a love bond was the kiss of death for a male with his genes. He had always been content to travel the universe in The Empress, never spending more than a few days in one place or more than a few hours with any given female.

  Well it looks like you’re going to be spending a whole lot more than a few days or hours around here unless you can figure a way out of here, a little voice in his brain whispered. Better get on that, Solar.

  “Ssslaves for sssale,” hissed his captor, monotonously.

  He wondered if Thrace was somewhere in the echoing dome being put up for sale as well. They’d been separated that morning by the slavers, before being herded into the transport that carried them to the Flesh Bazaar. Thrace had remained stubbornly silent as he fought grimly for his life and freedom but Solar had raged and shouted as he kicked and struggled until the slavers had fitted him with a pain collar. After that, a simple press of the remote lit up the pain centers in his brain like a supernova. He’d collapsed and hadn’t been able to stop their preparations.

  First he’d been stripped and then a pair of tight leather trousers had been forced on his long legs. He was left bare chested and his hands had been bound behind his back. A blindfold covered his eyes and then he felt the sharp sting of a needle in his throat.

  “Jussst in casse you decide to try and talk,” the hissing voice of the Xethian slaver whispered in his ear. Solar had opened his mouth to tell the son-of-a-bitch to go fuck himself and found he couldn’t say a word. “Don’t worry,” the slaver hissed. “It will wear off…but only after you are ssssold.”

  Then he’d been marched, blindfolded and dumb, into the loud, echoing space where he heard slavers shouting their wares from every corner. A long leather leash hung from his collar, tied to the metal ring fixed in the stone di
splay block he was kneeling on. He’d been here for what felt like hours and the thin pad between his knees and the ungiving stone wasn’t helping much. He shifted uncomfortably,

  “What about this one?” he heard a female voice ask. “He’s a well grown specimen. Tall, muscular…look at those abdominals! Very nice. And those broad shoulders and long legs—oh yes, he’d make an excellent body-slave for you, Kaylee.”

  “I don’t know, Lyra.” The second voice was softer and a little more hesitant. “He’s a lot bigger than what I planned on getting.”

  “Bigger everywhere.” A rough hand gripped the crotch of his leather trousers, making Solar growl silently. Gods damn it, he wished he could get his arms free for just one fucking second! He didn’t hold with hurting females but he’d twist the wrist of the one groping him until she begged for mercy if he got half a chance.

  “Don’t hurt him, Lyra—aren’t males, ah…delicate there?” the second voice protested.

  “They are—which is why you have to know where to squeeze. You have to show a male like this who’s Mistress right away. It doesn’t matter if he’s twice as big as you, he’ll bend his neck to your dominance quick enough if you give his balls a twist or two.”

  “But I don’t want a body-slave I have to punish all the time,” Kaylee protested. “In fact, I don’t really want a body-slave at all.”

  The other girl gave a long suffering sigh.

  “Kaylee, how often do I have to tell you this—you’re never going to make it in high society on Yonnie Six without your own personal body-slave. It doesn’t matter how much money your Great Aunt Jamelda left you—you walk into the Grand Assembly without a slave and you might as well cut your own throat. It’s social suicide!”

  “Well maybe I’m not sure I want to make it in high society,” Kaylee said stubbornly. “My mother and I didn’t live in Opulex and we never had a lot of credit but we managed fine without slaves.”

  “You country cousins are so backwards. I can’t believe you don’t keep males as slaves. Do you really let them just walk around free among the general population?”

  “Well, I mean, not in the main town but nobody bothered them much if they kept to themselves. They are people,” Kaylee pointed out.

  “No, they’re not—they’re animals. Not fit for anything but manual labor or sexual pleasure. Ask anyone in the scientific community—males have a much smaller mental capacity than females. They need us to direct and lead them.”

  “But not to flog and dominate them, surely,” Kaylee protested.

  “That’s exactly what you have to do—dominate him,” Lyra said. “I know you’re new to the ways of high society but your aunt was a member of the Ruling Order—you come from good blood. You’ll catch on soon enough with my help.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to catch on.” Kaylee sounded stubborn. “Maybe I don’t even want to own a slave.”

  “Kaylee, don’t start. You have to have one and I’m telling you, this one is perfect. Look—just feel his muscles.”

  “I can’t reach.” Kaylee sounded glad of the fact.

  “He is a tall one and putting him up on that pedestal doesn’t help,” her friend Lyra said. “Here, slaver! We want to see this one.”

  Solar bit the inside of his cheek as he heard the slaver come over.

  “A good choice, my ladiesss,” he hissed. “This male is well trained in all the erotic arts. He will be more than pleased to bury his tongue between your thighs and pleasure you until you beg him to stop.”

  “Oh my…” Kaylee sounded uncertain. “I, um…don’t know about that.”

  Solar wasn’t so sure about it either. He enjoyed pleasuring a female with his tongue when it was a female he himself had picked. But the thought of being forced to do it to a female he didn’t know on pain of being shocked by the damn collar he was wearing definitely lacked appeal.

  “We’re more interested in his training. Has he been trained to withstand erotic pain?” Lyra asked in a businesslike way. “My friend here needs a body-slave she can punish in social situations. No proper Mistress on Yonnie Six will be accepted into the right social circles without a body-slave who is accustomed to taking pain and giving pleasure on cue.”

  “Lyra, I don’t know--” Kaylee began but her friend talked right over her.

  “Is he used to the whip? Can he take a tail and a rod? We have no interest in a male who isn’t accustomed to being penetrated,” she snapped.

  Hell no, I’m not accustomed to being fucking penetrated! Solar wanted to shout. But the paralyzing agent the slaver had injected into his voice box was still in effect. He couldn’t say a damn thing, no matter how he strained his throat.

  “I assure you, this ssslave has had years of sssuch training in the Carnal Houses of Orchids Ssseven,” the slaver lied smoothly. “He will be eager to take any kind of punishment you care to dish out.”

  “Very well—then let’s see him,” the bossy voice of Lyra said.

  The slaver dragged Solar roughly from the platform to stand on the metal floor below. But he’d been kneeling so long that his calves and feet were all pins and needles. When he came off the platform he tripped and fell clumsily at the prospective buyer’s feet, his face almost touching the dirty metal floor.

  Solar came up quickly but the top of his head caught on something—loose fabric of some kind. He tried to free himself but couldn’t and his blindfold somehow got knocked askew. What he saw when the damn thing came off was a complete surprise—a tiny pair of white panties edged in gold lace met his eyes. Behind the thin fabric a plump little pussy with just a tiny wisp of red-gold curls was barely concealed and a warm, feminine scent teased his nose.

  Gods! To Solar’s chagrin he went instantly hard inside the tight leather trousers he’d been forced to wear.

  “Oh, oh my Goddess!” a breathless feminine voice gasped and suddenly the panties and their delicate barely-hidden treasure were withdrawn. The fabric was pulled away from his head and face and he saw it had been the material of a female’s skirt which had trapped his head when he sat up too quickly.

  The owner of the skirt was backing away from him, a blush staining her creamy cheeks as Solar scrambled to his feet—an awkward task since his arms were bound behind his back.

  “You sssee?” The slaver laughed a little too heartily. “The ssslave is ssso eager to please you, he cannot wait to begin.”

  “I think that was an accident,” the girl whose skirt he’d gotten under said faintly. She must be Kaylee, Solar decided. She had the pale, fragile complexion of an expensive doll and long reddish-gold hair hung down to her hips. Its color was so vivid Solar would have sworn it was fake—if he hadn’t just seen evidence to the contrary. Gods, that sweet little pussy…

  Stop it, he commanded himself angrily. This female is looking to buy you as a sex slave and you heard all the things she wants to do to you—whips and collars not to mention rods and tails, whatever the hell those are. And penetration for fuck’s sake! No, hell no—she can’t be the one to buy you! She can’t.

  “He’s perfect,” Lyra, who turned out to be as unlovely as her buzzing, nasal voice, said. She was a few inches shorter than Kaylee but the stilt-like heels strapped to her feet more than made up for it. She had brassy blonde hair Solar was willing to bet wasn’t in the least bit natural and her overly-tan skin had the faint orange tint that too much melanin supplement causes.

  “I don’t know.” Kaylee was still backing away from him. “Just look at him—I thought he’d look smaller down off the platform. But he’s so big.”

  “Which is why you have to show him who’s boss right away. Come here, Kaylee—put your hands on him. Let him feel your dominance.”

  Kaylee allowed herself to be pulled forward and, at her friend’s urging, laid one small, slim hand on Solar’s broad chest. For some reason, his heartbeat quickened.

  “I like his hair,” she said softly. “I’ve never seen anything like it—the dark brown with a hint of green. And his ey
es—I’ve never seen eyes like that. The pale green with the gold ring around the edge…beautiful.”

  “Vivid hair and eye coloring are a Havoc trait,” the slave said smoothly. “As are his ssstrength and musculature. The Havoc are a genetic branch of the Kindred, you know. It is one reason they are always male.”

  “I have heard of the Kindred,” Kaylee said softly. “Aren’t they the ones who bond their females to them for life?”

  “They do, mistress, but you have no need to fear that since this slave is not truly Kindred but Havoc. They do not bond--it shortens their considerable lifespan.”

  “You keep saying Havoc,” Lyra said sharply. “I thought you said he came from the Carnal Houses of Orchids Seven.”

  “Though he was raised in the Carnal Houses, he was born Havoc,” the slaver lied smoothly. “They are a patriarchal society whose members never take mates. When a male wants to sssire an heir, he goes to the womb factories of Chonnie Three. He donates his ssseed to make a child which is raised until the age of sssix cycles there at the nursery. He comes back at that time to take charge of the child. If he does not come, the nursery has an agreement to send the abandoned child to the Carnal Houses. In thisss way they make back their investment and the child has a home and a profession.”

  It was such a convincing lie—mixed liberally with the truth—that Solar almost believed it himself. Only he knew none of the Havoc children sired and raised at the Chonnie nurseries were abandoned. An honorable Havoc male would make provisions for his child. If something should happen to him, another male would rear and train his heir. In fact, that had happened to Thrace as his own sire had been killed when Thrace was just sixteen cycles old, though Solar wasn’t clear on the details.

  “Examine him if you like,” the slaver offered Kaylee. “Sssee if he is not all you wish for in a body-slave.”

  “Yes, touch him,” Lyra ordered. “Run your hands all over his body. Let him know who owns him.”