Buying Trouble, PT 7: Naughty Girl On Public Display

“Ohhhhhhwww!” Eris complained as her master’s palm beat a brisk tattoo across her butt. This was nothing like when the gross slaver had spanked her. Everything about it felt different, the hard lines of his mercenary frame in particular. As she squirmed back against him in an effort to use his body to shield her butt from his palm, she felt a hard ridge pressing against her hip. If that was his cock, he was exceptionally endowed. Her eyes widened and she turned her head to look back at him, still crying out with every slap he dealt to her cheeks.

“Apologize.”

He ground the word out, his voice deep and resonant and commanding.

“Sorry!” Eris squeaked. It didn’t feel as though she’d had any choice in the matter. When this man wanted something – it happened.

He kept a hold of her, pinning her back against her body as she squirmed her hot bottom. He had not spanked her long, but he had spanked her hard enough to make her skin sting with a hot blush of heat. Her skirt had ridden up over her waist, exposing her red bare cheeks and the mound between them. She was wet. And not just because he had spanked her and made her half naked before throngs of people. She had been getting progressively wetter since she met him. He had a kind of attractiveness she’d never encountered before, a quiet, intense, powerful kind which made her want to know him, and made her want him to know her.

The mercenary’s palm remained on her bottom, then slid around and down. His fingers found her dewy slit and Eris gasped as he ran the pad of his middle finger across the dripping seam of her lips. Keep reading…

Buying Trouble, PT 6: Publicly Spanked

Eris squirmed in place, wishing she could know more about this man who now owned her. There was a hunger in his eyes, but it was mysterious and confusing to her, though she enjoyed the way his gaze made her feel. There was some kind of promise in it which made images of disrobing him fly into her head. What would he look like naked? How would it feel to kiss him? To be touched by him in a sensual way?

“Come. We will be late.”

“Late for what?”

He did not answer the question, simply turned and strode off through the crowds again, leaving her to follow after him. She did, of course, harnessed as firmly to him by sheer curiosity as she could ever have been by a leash or chain.
Keep reading…

Buying Trouble, PT 5: The Mystery of her Master

Eris’ new master led her through the crowds of the city, not looking back once to see if she was still there. Eris saw a thousand opportunities for escape, and about two thousand for mischief, but her master’s confusing confidence in his possession of her made her ignore all of them in favor of catching up to him and trying to look up into his face as he strode along, his hat low over his eyes as he moved like a shade through the crowds. Unlike Eris, who had to dart back and forth and dodge this way and that to avoid being stood on or outright ran over, people melted out of her master’s way. Where he walked, they simply were not. It was the strangest thing to watch, and it meant that his wake was a fairly safe place to be.

“Hey! Where are we going?”

If he answered her, she didn’t hear it. He just kept walking, his long legs setting a pace which made Eris struggle to keep up with him.

“Hey!” Keep reading…

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. Keep reading…

Buying Trouble, PT 3: A Hard Slave To Sell

Eris stared up at the man who held her. The rest of the patrons had moved away from him the moment he caught her, as if his personal space was a tangible force field.

He wore the low, circular black broad brimmed hat of a mercenary and blue robes edged with black silk tied tightly across his chest and flaring out to his feet. Those robes hid a multitude of sins, Eris was sure of that. His hands were wrapped in synthetic leather coverings designed to protect a clenched fist. Of all the people she could have run into, this was the worst. Mercenaries ranked somewhere below slave traders in the hierarchy of scum.

Behind her, the trader came pushing through the crowd. Eris was gratified to see his nose bloodied where the flying table had hit it. It was the very least he deserved.

“That is mine,” the trader said, pointing at her. “That little bitch.”

The brim of the hat lifted as the mercenary looked at the merchant. Eris saw his face then, strong chin and jaw, hard, high cheekbones, dark eyes set in an angular way which gave him a perpetual squinting appearance.

“Yours?”
Keep reading…

Buying Trouble, PT 2: No Gags For Public Use

“Who says I’m a virgin?”

“The doctor will,” the handler said, hauling her into a low slung building with a shimmering blue cross hovering above it.

“I want a certificate of purity,” he grunted at the lady behind the counter.

“I can tell you now, he’s not pure,” Eris quipped. The woman smirked. The trader slapped Eris’ butt again, making it burn like blazes.

“Watch the merchandise,” she yelped. The slaps were starting to add up and get damn painful. If he kept it up, she was going to have to consider actually behaving herself. “Nobody is going to want me if you thrash my ass off.”

“I need a certificate for this one,” the trader said. “And a gag.”
Keep reading…

Buying Trouble, PT 1: A Stolen Slave Is Spanked

"I don't need an examination, I'm not sick! OW!" Eris grasped her hot, stinging backside and scowled at the man who had dealt her the slap. He was a big, burly bearded creature who stank of beer and she hated him more than she hated anything in the world. He was everything she was not. He was tall and she was short, he was fat and she was slim. He was old and ugly, and she was young and cute - a twenty year old snub-nosed blonde with a big mouth and a bigger attitude.

"Silence, girl," the trader growled. Three days earlier he'd snatched her from the fields where she was scavenging crops to feed herself. He'd been so pleased with himself in the beginning, figuring he could take her to the trade city of Solaris and sell her at one of the alien markets. He wasn't pleased now.

"I'm healthy," she insisted. "Look at me. I don't have any pock marks. There's no rot on me, and I have all my hair.” She plucked at the strands of her blonde locks just in case he'd missed them.

"The doctor's not checking your hair, girl,” he guffawed, as if he'd made a joke. If he had, Eris didn't get it.

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About to be spanked…

Her heart is pounding. Her mouth is dry. Her hands are shaking ever so slightly as she tugs at her skirt. The hem is well below her knees, but it feels too short.

She is in trouble.

His voice is rumbling with words of censure. She’s not hearing the words, not really. She’s hearing the future in them. A future in which her bottom will blush red with the prints of his palm.

The tremor is deep inside her, a spark of mischief which is zipping about low in her belly – a tingle between her thighs that makes her press them together hard and clench the muscles in her tummy. Beneath the temporary cover of panties and skirt, the bud at the apex of her lower lips is becoming a taut little round of desire. The slight movement of the fabric between her thighs, pressing against her mound is enough to stimulate her.

He knows this.

He knows the way her hips dance in a slow squirm under his hard gaze. He has seen it many times before. He knows the clipped, stern words he is speaking are not making her sorry for what she’s done. She is not apologetic. She does not regret her actions. She is relishing her disobedience in this extended moment of disciplinary tension, a reprieve before the storm which will turn her into a wailing, writhing woman over his broad lap. Tears will fall before he is done with her. She will beg for forgiveness – and find it. But all of that is yet to come.

Her breath catches in her throat as he reaches out, his large hand capturing hers. He pulls her down over his thighs, her skirt sliding up vulnerable thighs, his palm laying across the back of her skirt.

The spanking is about to begin…