“They don’t have to know,” Thrace told her. “And you shouldn’tworry about them or what they think or believe. Outdated beliefs are notgoing to get those crystals sold and make you solvent again.”

“I suppose not.” Trin took a deep breath and threwback her shoulders—a distracting move that thrust her full breasts out. Thracetried hard not to notice but her berry dark nipples made his mouth water totaste them. “You’re right—I’ll be fine,” she said resolutely.

“I know I’m right,” he said roughly. “Andyou’re going to have to keep it in mind the whole time we’re on Yonnie Six atthis damn celebration. Otherwise we’re not going to make it.”

“Make it? What do you mean?” She frowned.

Thrace took a deep breath. “Gods, how do I say this?Remember how I asked you what the Landra-Rey Celebration is all aboutand you said you had no idea?”

“Yes? So?” She shrugged. “It probably has to dowith the phases of one of Yonnie Six’s moons or a new fashion emerging orsomething like that.”

“Wrong.” Thrace shook his head. “It’s noneof those things.”

“And you know this how, exactly?” She put ahand on her hip.

“Because I’ve been doing searches while you weresleeping. Look.”

He went to the viewscreen and pulled up one of hisbookmarked searches. An elegant female in an old fashioned opaque lace dressand long, curling hair appeared on the viewscreen. Thrace pointed at her.

“Mistress Landra—one of the first females to subduea male to her service. Before that, the Yonnites eschewed all contactwith males, much as your people on Zetta Prime do. But Mistress Landra starteda trend—one that became a way of life when she took herself a body-slave.”

“Why did she do it? Why did she decide she wanted amale?” Trin sounded puzzled.

“Don’t know.” Thrace shrugged. “The site doesn’tgo into that. But apparently she and her body-slave, Rey, were the ones whofirst laid the foundation of the mistress and slave relationship on Yonnie Sixwhich used to be much more equal than it is now. The celebration is tocommemorate what they started and highlight the ways a body-slave must servehis mistress.”

“Really? They have a whole celebration for that?”Trin frowned at the viewscreen. “Weird.”

“Well, not just the relationship betweenthem,” Thracesaid dryly. “There’s also the fact that he gave his life for hers when theywere attacked by space pirates.”

“He did? Why would he do that? Didn’t he hate beingher slave?”

“I don’t hate being yours,” Thrace remarked, looking at her.

“And you’ve already risked your life for me,” Trinmurmured, her eyes flicking over to his and away again quickly.

“You risked a lot for me too,” Thrace reminded her. “We make agood team.”

“So…maybe this celebration won’t be too difficult.”She sounded so hopeful he hated to burst her bubble. But she had to know whatwas coming before they took a pod down to Yonnie Six.

“Well…” Thrace cleared his throat. “Thatreally depends on you.”

“How do you mean?”

“The celebration can be rather…graphic in nature.”

“Graphic?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Graphic how?”

Thrace sighed. Might as well get it over with.

“As in, a body-slave on Yonnie Six is expected todo much more for his mistress than simply guard her body. Listen…” Heswitched over to another site he’d bookmarked and read aloud. “A properbody-slave must be all things to his mistress. He must guard and protect herwith his own life, if necessary but that is only the beginning of his duties.He must also groom her—wash her hair, bathe her, soften her skin with lotion oroil and massage her sore or tired muscles to be certain she is well rested. Inaddition, he must dress her, wait on her, anticipate her every need and tendto her sexual desires so that she is never wanting or in need.” He lookedup at Trin and raised an eyebrow. “Beginning to get the picture?”

“All right.” She nodded, seemingly taking all thisin stride. “I’ve been in Yonnite high society before—I know that somemistresses use their body-slaves in a sexual capacity. And we can certainly pretendthat we do that.”

“We may have to do more than pretend,” Thracepointed out. “Especially if we’re on display with a bunch of Yonnie mistresseswho are hyper-alert for any wrong behavior. Some of the things I’m supposed todo in order to serve you—”

“We’ll pretend,” Trin said firmly. “Justbecause we’re going among all the decadent, sexually depraved Yonnites doesn’tmean I have to turn into one of them.” She looked at him. “I promised you Iwouldn’t use you for sexual purposes and I meant it, Thrace.”

Thrace sighed. Like he would mind if she did wantto use him for such purposes. After holding her soft, sweet body in his armswhile she gasped and cried and came the night before, he would be willing to doalmost anything for her. But he knew she was off limits. Might as well stopfantasizing, he told himself roughly. She’s never going to let you in.She’s the mistress, you’re the slave. And even if you weren’t, being with amale is against her fucking religion—she’sone of the Unpenetrated. There’s noway it’s ever going to happen.

“As you wish, Mistress,” he said formally. “Thenmay I suggest that we get you dressed in some of the latest Yonnite fashions? Isynthesized a few from the searches I did on the viewscreen while you wereasleep.”

“You did?” She sounded surprised. “Forgive me, Thrace,but you don’t seem like the kind of male to care much about women’s fashions.”

“No, but the Yonnites care,” he growled. “Part ofmy job as your slave is to make sure you’re well dressed and presentable at alltimes. I take that seriously.” Not to mention he’d enjoyed picking a few of themore interesting gowns he’d found for her to wear.

“All right.” Trin sighed. “Let’s see what we’vegot. Time to get dressed up and go meet Lady Malroth.”

Chapter Fifteen

“I don’t like this outfit,” Trinmuttered for perhaps the fortieth time as she walked carefully down thecolorful gemstone path to Lady Tam-tam’s estate in the sky-high shoes Thracehad synthesized for her on the Sym-printer. It was an expensive machine thatTrin had invested in on the off chance she ever found herself stuck in deepspace needing a spare part for the ship. In such a dire emergency, it couldsave her life and the lives of her crew by simply printing out a replacementpart. But somehow the big Havoc had found a way to make it print dresses andshoes as well as a new outfit for himself—which covered considerably more thanhers did, she noted resentfully.

Her dress was beautiful but bizarre—a butteryyellow satin affair that went well with her light brown skin tones. Trin had noproblem with the color—it was the cut that bothered her.

The top of the dress went all the way up to her thethroat almost like a choker and ended right under her ears. But despite thesevere top, the gown wasn’t modest at all—there was a triangular opening cut inthe butter yellow satin which framed her breasts.

A panel of lighter yellow lace stretched across itbut it was thin—nearly see-through. The curves of her breasts and the tightpoints of her nipples were clearly visible, pressing against the soft lace asthough they were trying to escape. In fact, they actually were. Trin hadalready had some trouble with the top panel trying to pull free of itsmoorings. It was stretched too tightly across her full breasts and threateningto come loose at any time.

Below, the dress wasn’t much better. Though it fellmodestly to her ankles, there was a similar triangle framing her pelvis withanother panel of thin lace that did little or nothing to hide her sex.

Perhaps most troubling of all, both panels of lacewere detachable—for what reason Trin didn’t want to imagine. She had wanted tosynthesize some suitable undergarments to go beneath the ludicrous dress butapparently they weren’t in fashion at the moment. So here she was, on displayand tottering down the gemmed pathway to the Lady Tam-tam’s estate feeling asnaked as if she had no clothing on at all.