“Lights on,” she whispered, but her voice must not have been loud enough because nothing happened. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to speak louder. “Lights on!” she almost shouted into the dark room.
At once, the glows in all four corners of the room popped on. The brilliant light blinded Serenai for a moment and she thought she heard a skittering sound—like a rodent scrambling across the floor. She tried to see if the red eyes were still there, but for a moment she could only blink as her own eyes adjusted.
When she was finally able to see straight, the room seemed deserted. At least, the red eyes weren’t there anymore. Though Serenai supposed they could be hiding somewhere behind one of the pieces of heavy, ornately carved furniture which filled the suite.
She stared across the room to the large mirror hung on the wall and saw nothing but her own frightened face peering back. She had long black hair, creamy brown skin, and large, dark eyes. Her mother had chosen DNA from a small planet called “Earth” when she’d gotten herself impregnated at the Procreation Center. It meant that Serenai looked different from the other girls she’d gone to school with at the Convent, but she didn’t mind—she loved how she looked. Even down to her extra-full curves, which many of the other Yonnie Mistresses sneered at when they met her.
But the Sisters at the Convent had always preached tolerance and understanding as well as accepting yourself the way you were. Serenai had absorbed these lessons early and she wasn’t willing to hate herself just because she wasn’t thin and pale like most of the other high-ranking women in Opulex.
However, the face staring back from the mirror didn’t look happy or self-confident—she just looked scared. Serenai thought about getting up to look around the room and see if the red-eyed thing menacing her was really gone…and decided not to.
But she didn’t want to turn off the lights again either because it might come back. She would just have to sleep with them on, she decided reluctantly. In the Convent, no lights had been allowed in the rooms at night, so she was used to sleeping in complete darkness. She supposed she’d just have to put a pillow over her head and hope she could get back to sleep.
But tomorrow I’m going to go find myself the biggest, strongest bodyslave I can to stay by my side and keep me safe, she promised herself.
She wasn’t sure where she could buy one, but she was certain that Aunt Nibblegrim could tell her. In the meantime, she was going to have to do her best to get to sleep with the lights on.
With a sigh, she turned over in bed and pulled an ornately embroidered pillow over her eyes. Goddess, but she missed the Convent!
2
SERENAI
“That’s the one you want—the perfect bodyslave to protect you!” Aunt Nibblegrim pointed to the center of the arena. They were at the Blood Circuit—the place where all the fiercest warriors in the galaxy fought to the death for the pleasure of those betting on them. The stadium was packed with Mistresses and their bodyslaves, all cheering for the bloody sport taking place for their entertainment.
Serenai and her aunt were in a private box—another inheritance left to her by her mother. Apparently Mistress Bloodlash had been as fond of blood-sports as her name implied.
“Yes, he’s definitely the one!” her Aunt said, nodding with certainty.
Serenai couldn’t keep the startled look off her face.
“Him?”
She stared at the huge warrior with gray skin and pale, blazing eyes. His muscular body was streaked in blood and gore—not surprising since he had just killed four males who he had been fighting all at once.
The bodies lay around him in small, mangled heaps. One was missing his head. Another had both arms ripped off. The last two were so distorted that their own mothers might have difficulty identifying their remains.
And this was the male her aunt wanted her to choose as her bodyslave?
“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “He seems so fierce—so savage.”
“That’s exactly why you want him, my dear!” Aunt Nibblegrim widened her eyes dramatically. “Why, no one will dare to attack you or disrespect you with such a huge, savage beast of a male at your back.”
“But what if he decides he wants to attack me?” Serenai protested. “What if he doesn’t like being owned?”
“Oh, none of the bodyslaves you see around you actually like being owned.” Aunt Nibblegrim waved a hand dismissively at the vast, cheering crowd of Mistresses and bodyslaves. “That’s the reason the Goddess invented pain collars!” She giggled, putting a hand over her bright pink mouth.
Aunt Nibblegrim loved to “dress up” as she put it. She always had on the most elaborate gowns and her hair—which was dyed bright blue—was always teased up at least three feet above her head. She applied her makeup with a heavy hand, unlike Serenai who barely wore any at all.
Wearing makeup had been forbidden at the Convent, but Aunt Nibblegrim had assured her that all proper Yonnite Mistresses wore a full face of makeup everywhere they went, so Serenai was trying to get used to it. She had been using some subtle color to make her eyes look brighter and more expressive and she’d found some lightly colored lip balm that she liked a lot. It was a far cry from the smoky eye makeup and thick, bright lip stain her Aunt wore everywhere, but it was more than Serenai was used to.
What she found much more difficult to accustom herself to was the way the Yonnite Mistresses dressed. Everywhere she looked, women were wearing outfits that would have gotten her kicked out of the Convent in a heartbeat. Many wore gowns slit right up the center to show their panties and several had their breasts exposed with their nipples covered in red or blue powder.
When Serenai asked about the colored nipples—as delicately as she could—Aunt Nibblegrim had explained that they were used for punishing bodyslaves.
“The red powder is the ‘fire,’” she told Serenai. “If a slave displeases his Mistress, she makes him suck the fire dust off her nipple. It will make his mouth burn and cause extreme pain.”
“She…she lets him suck her…her nipple?” Serenai couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice.
