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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 with 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,