Buying Trouble, PT 4: Sold To The Scariest Bidder

A brat named Eris breaks free of a slave trader, only to find herself in the presence of a deadly mercenary… my M/F sci-fi spanking romance series, Buying Trouble, continues :)

I’ll take her,” the merc said, or rather, intoned the words.

He reached into his robe, the one Eris was so suspicious of, and drew out a small dark velvet bag. He held it out to the merchant, over Eris’ head.

The merchant grabbed the bag, his face set in a greedy leer. His chunky fingers fiddled with the ties for a moment before he pulled it open. He let out a gasp, then his eyes went wide, and his face went pale. He stood frozen for a moment or two, dropped the bag and fled through the inebriated crowd with a gurgled scream.

“What was that?!” Eris crouched down to see what was in the bag, but the merc stopped her before she could, planting his foot on the open end of it.

NO.” He said in very firm tones. Tones so firm that Eris moved away from the bag and looked up at him under her lashes, blushing ever so slightly.

You do not want to look in here,” he said, sweeping it back into the folds of his robe.

Eris stared into his face curiously, trying to understand precisely what this man was. He was handsome, in a dark, dangerous way. He had saved her from the merchant slaver and yet… she did not feel as if she was in the presence of a hero.

He was a merc. And he had purchased her. Neither of those things were heroic. She looked into his dark eyes, trying to discern what his plans for her might be, but his gaze was a closed book. He wore no expression at all upon his chiseled features.

She was no longer chained. She could run away. Running away had been the whole point of the exercise. It was the reason she still had a splintered bit of table attached to the chain hanging from her wrist. And yet she found herself just standing there, magnetized by her new owner. He was inspecting her in kind, his eyes running over her body in a way which made her feel quite different than when other men did it. She felt a quivering low in her tummy, and a tightness as below the thin fabric of the skirt, a certain part of her anatomy began to moisten.

“I’m Eris,” she said. “What’s your name?”

You may call me Master.”

There were very few men in the world Eris would ever have considered calling Master, but she thought this man might be one of them.


He turned and walked away, without giving her a second glance to see if she was following.

She was free in that moment.

Free to turn back into the crowd and hide herself, free to dash off in another direction, and free to take an obedient step in his wake- which is what she did.


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