She was looking for a body-slave but not for the usual reasonsof the rich and indolent Mistresses of Yonnie Six. Trin was from Zetta Prime—acolony that had broken off from the main planet of Yonnie Six years ago. Butthough they were some light years away, the daughters of Zetta Prime, as they calledthemselves, still considered the Yonnie Empress their ruler and kept to theirways. Well—mostly.

Zetta Prime, like Yonnie Six, was a matrilineal society withlittle to no use for male input. It was ruled and peopled exclusively byfemales who passed on their wealth and privilege to their daughters.

But the daughters of Zetta Prime didn’t hold with the Yonniepractice of keeping a pet male around—a personal body-slave who would act as anerrand boy, body guard, and means of sexual gratification. Not that theYonnites ever allowed a male to penetrate them in any kind of sexual act. Atrue Yonnie Six mistress much preferred to do the penetrating herself with astrap-on rod which was inserted into the unfortunate male for punishment orpleasure, depending on how you looked at it.

The females of Zetta Prime didn’t practice male slavery orpenetration. They simply believed in keeping their distance from malesaltogether and indeed, most Zettites were lesbians, preferring to love onlyother females.

Trin wasn’t interested in her own sex and never had been. Butneither did she crave a male to scratch her itch. She had her own two hands anda more than adequate clitoral stimulator if that need arose. Unfortunately, asa merchant and a diplomat for the Zetta Prime ruling body, she had to deal withthe haughty Yonnie Six society often. And when she showed up to one of theruling body’s meetings without a body-slave to back her up, she was looked downupon and often as not, completely ignored.

That was the reason she was trolling the rows of slave for saleat the Flesh Bazaar located on Dominus Two—alsoknown as the Hub. It had come to her, after Lady Malroth had snubbed her byrefusing to even show up for a diplomatic trade agreement, that she couldsimply buy a male and train him to do as she wished. Which was mainly tolook imposing and pretend to kowtow to her every wish whenever she was onYonnie Six.

If he did a good job, she would teach himsome useful skills—astral navigation perhaps if he was intelligent enough tolearn it—and grant him his freedom after a year or two. She hated to condone thepractice of slavery but it wasn’t like she actually knew any males shecould offer the job of pretend body-slave to. There simply weren’t any on ZettaPrime.

It had seemed like a sound plan, lying inthe sleeping chamber in her quarters aboard her ship, The Alacrity. But now, walking up and down the rows and seeing themisery and shame on so many faces, Trin wasn’t so sure. She wanted a willingslave—one who had been raised to it from childhood and had known no other life.Which was one reason the slaver’s cry of “Slavers fresh from the Carnal Houses”had gotten her attention. She’d thought that such a male would be moretractable and easier to train for her purposes.

Well this one doesn’tlook a bit tractable, she admitted toherself, still staring at the huge, gorgeous male displayed like a dangerousbeast in a menagerie. Like a beast, he was bound and wearing a collar—a paincollar, she saw with some distaste. Such devices connected to the pain centersof the wearer’s brain and forced them to feel agonizing shocks if the remotewas pressed or a certain punishment word was spoken. Trin swore to herselfnever to use such a thing on whatever male she bought. But just the fact thatthe slaver had decided this particular male needed a collar to keep him in linelet her know he wasn’t the one for her.

She started to walk on when the slaver inquestion sidled up to her. He was Xethian with the scaly green reptilianskin and a long, blunt snout rather than a nose. He wore ridiculously richclothing as was the custom of his kind, showing off his wealth as a sign ofsuccess. To Trin it just looked like a sign of bad taste.

“I sssee you are admiring my wares, Mistress.” He bowedrespectfully, a long, oily fringe of seaweed-like hair flopping over his narrowshoulders as he did.

“Ah…yes. Yes, I was.” Trin could barely hide her distaste. Ittook all her diplomatic training to keep from backing up, away from theunctuous, fawning slaver. “Kindred, is he?” she asked, to make conversation andtake her mind off the swampy stench that was coming from under his ridiculouslyrich golden robes.

“Havoc, actually,” the slaver replied. “A distant geneticcousin to the Kindred with a few sssignificant differences. The most importantbeing, Havocs do not form sssoul bonds with their females—which eliminates theconcern of permanent ownership. If you don’t like him, you can sssimply get ridof him.”

“Well, that is a selling point,” Trin admitted. The ideaof buying a male for use as a pretend body-slave and then winding uppermanently bonded to him hadn’t even occurred to her. If it had, she probablywould have run screaming in the other direction.

“They do have the sssame ssstrength, ssstamina, andcourage as their genetic cousins,” the slaver continued. “With the added bonusof longevity. As long as a Havoc remains unbonded and unattached to any female,he will live hundreds of cycles in perfect health.”

“Wait.” Trin held up her hand. “I thought you said they couldn’tbond.”

“No, I sssaid they do not bond. The reason being thatthe moment they tie themselves to a female, they reduce their own lifespan tothat of hers. Most are not willing to give up hundreds of cycles of life simplyfor the sssake of love.”

“Can’t say I blame them there,” Trin murmured. “Well, thank youfor the interesting facts but I don’t think this male is for me. I just need acommon body-slave to stand by me when I go on diplomatic missions. But I’mlooking for something a little less…dangerous.”

“Oh, but this male is not dangerous—not a bit,” the slaverexclaimed quickly.

“Is that right?” Trin put a hand on her hip. Xethians weren’texactly known for being the most truthful species in the universe. “Then whythe blindfold and pain collar?”

“For show—most of my customers are from Yonnie Sssix. While Iperceive you are…not?”

“What gave it away?” Trin said dryly. “The clothes or the colorof my skin?”

“Both,” the slaver said. “Most females who come here fromYonnie Sssix looking for a body-ssslave are dressed much more…richly. And Ihave never seen one with brown skin before.”

“I’m from Zetta Prime—we have no use for overly fancyclothing,” Trin said motioning down at her plain black flight suit. “And mymother decided to use exotic sperm from a small, little known planet in theMilky Way galaxy when she conceived me at the Conception center. She was neversorry she did—nor am I.”

She had never been ashamed of her creamy light brown skin orher long, black hair. It wasn’t the Zetta Prime norm but Trin was proud of herexotic heritage and it showed in the way she spoke and carried herself.

“Of course, of course,” the slaver said quickly. “Which is whythis male would be the perfect body-slave for you.”

“How do you figure that?” Trin raised an eyebrow at him. Shecouldn’t wait to hear this spin.

“Think of it, my lady—you are already most…unusualyourself. Different I should sssay. That in itself can be a problem when tryingto deal with the denizens of Yonnie Sssix.”

“True, but how would having such a huge, ostentatiousbody-slave help me blend in?”

“Ahh, but you do not wish to blend in.” The slaverraised one scaly finger for emphasis. “If you are going to ssstand out anyway,you should make a ssstatement. And nothing commands respect on Yonnie Sssixlike a huge, imposing male who is obviously broken to your will.”

“Hmm.” Though Trin hated to admit it, the slaver made sense.How many times had she seen the Mistresses of Yonnie Six parading around theassembly halls with the biggest, baddest, most dangerous-looking male theycould find trailing on a leash behind them? And the Havoc male on the platformwas huge and imposing enough to put any other body-slave to shame.