An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Taming the Beast
ISBN 9781419918285
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Taming the Beast Copyright © 2009 Evangeline Anderson
Edited by Shannon Combs
Photography and cover art by Les Byerley
Electronic book Publication May 2009
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
TAMING THE BEAST
Evangeline Anderson
Prologue
The Dungeon
The air in the dungeon was drafty and dank with a dusty, coppery smell like old blood. Gisella shivered as it swirled around her bare ankles, seeking a way up under the gauzy split skirt she was wearing. The skirt’s split came up well past her thighs and showed the barely there wisp of silk that was supposed to serve her as panties. In reality the tiny scrap of fabric barely covered the slit of her sex before it narrowed to a slender string that disappeared between her freshly shaven pussy lips.
The top of her outfit was scarcely more decent. A see-through blouse woven of the finest silk was pulled tight over her full breasts. The pink buds of her nipples, made into hard little points by fear as much as the chilly dungeon air, were clearly visibly through the thin fabric. Anyone seeing her would have assumed that she was dressed for a seduction—but who or what was she supposed to seduce in the dark and sinister dungeon Gisella wasn’t sure.
She took another step forward, her slippered feet grating against the dusty stones, aware that the door behind her was locked and there was no going back. To one side she saw a huge four-poster bed piled high with rich quilts and thick mattresses. The sight surprised her—why should a prisoner have such rich sleeping arrangements? And was this where the seduction was to take place?
Not daring to think about the answer, Gisella made her way deeper into the labyrinth of darkness lit only by a few small torches that hung at intervals along the walls. There was something else in the far corner, a pile of something ivory and white that gleamed dully in the weak light and caught her attention. She walked cautiously forward and stopped, one hand flying to her mouth.
Bones. The ivory and white pile was composed of well-cleaned bones. Human bones.
The scream rising in her throat was cut off by a deep voice close by her left ear.
“So you’re the latest victim. Welcome to the lair of the beast, my lady.”
Chapter One
Twenty-Four Hours Before
The Whorehouse
“Well, well, off to serve the Goddess.” Uncle Edgar smiled at her, a smile that no doubt was meant to look proud and fatherly. To Gisella Trelain the look on his narrow, horsey face was more lustful than familial. Nevertheless, she was leaving today, hopefully never to see him again, so she tried to suppress her disgust.
“Yes, Uncle Edgar,” she murmured modestly, looking down at her long blue traveling robes. They were not nearly as beautiful as the pure white ones she would be given at the convent but they would do for now.
“It’s such a shame, my dear. When you might have made some man so very, very happy.” His eyes slid over her body so blatantly that Gisella was surprised they didn’t leave a trail of slime in their wake. “Very happy,” he repeated, still almost leering at her.
“I am certain I will better serve my purpose as a priestess of the Light,” she replied primly. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked off into the distance so she wouldn’t have to watch him undressing her with his eyes. “Will the hovercoach that’s to take me to the spaceport be here soon?”
“Very soon. In fact—here it is now.” From the way he was fingering something in his pocket—probably the call chip—Gisella got the idea that her uncle had been putting off the moment of parting as long as he could. She was more than a little relieved when the silent silver coach drew up in front of her parents’ estate—no, her uncle’s estate now, she reminded herself—and slid to a stop in front of them.
She turned to take one last long look at the rolling green lawn that led up to the tall white house where she had grown up. For twenty-one of her twenty-two years she had been so happy here with her parents. They had been strict but fair, touchingly devoted
to each other and Gisella. Perhaps at times they had been a little too protective—she knew almost nothing of the world outside her secluded neighborhood—but she had still loved them both with all her heart. After their deaths the house had never felt the same, especially when her grasping, greedy uncle had come to take their place as her lawful guardian. How she missed them! But she knew she was leaving behind nothing but memories here, there was nothing left for her in the tall white house but the echoes of what had been. Going to the convent to serve as a priestess wasn’t her first choice but at least it would take her away from the ghosts of the past—and her lascivious uncle.
“Well,” she said, popping the door release catch and lifting her one piece of luggage into the coach’s plush interior. “I suppose it’s time to say goodbye, Uncle Edgar.”
“Sadly, yes. Come here, my dear—give your old uncle a hug.” And before Gisella could protest, he had gathered her into his arms. “Are you certain that you want to go?” he breathed wetly in her ear. “You could always stay here…with me.” As he spoke, one hand slid from the small of her back down to cup the curve of her buttocks and he pulled her tight against him.
Gisella nearly gagged at the intrusion. “Uncle Edgar, please!” she said sharply, struggling in his arms. He was hard and bony everywhere except for his pudgy pot-belly and his belt buckle was digging into her thigh. But what if that isn’t his belt buckle? The thought made her struggle even harder until finally he let her go with obvious reluctance.
“Very well then.” His flat blue eyes had gone cold at her unspoken refusal to his carnal offer. “You leave me no choice.”
Gisella wasn’t sure what he was talking about but she was more than grateful to get away from him. His breath smelled like rotten meat and she was sick of fending off his not-so-subtle advances.
“Goodbye, Uncle Edgar,” she said frostily, climbing into the hovercoach with relief. “May the Goddess keep you.”
“She may indeed.” He was sneering now, as though he had an unpleasant secret she didn’t know. “But she will certainly not keep you. Someone else will see to that.” And before she could answer him, he had slapped the coach door closed and given it the signal to move on. She was on her way to the convent.
* * * * *
After the third winding lane the coach took, Gisella was forced to admit that it didn’t appear to be taking her to the spaceport. In fact, t
he neighborhood she found herself in was so run-down and grungy she couldn’t imagine anything farther from the gleaming white buildings that housed the rockets to take travelers into space.
Everywhere she looked, crumbling gray structures leaned against each other as though they might fall down otherwise. The moving walkways on either side of the road were broken, and in some cases, so torn up that even if they had been moving, no pedestrian could have used them.
She nervously ran a hand through her long honey blonde hair. Where was she and why had the coach brought her here? She couldn’t help noticing that as the district around the slowly moving hovercoach grew uglier and more run-down, the people who apparently inhabited it grew more colorful. As she watched, a young woman not much older than herself walked by with a hip-rolling swagger that seemed designed to attract attention. She was wearing a pair of black leather shorts so brief that half of her full buttocks hung out of them and a halter top that showed not only the tops of her breasts, but most of the wide pink arcs of her areolas as well. Her feet were strapped into shoes with jewel-studded spike heels so high it was a wonder she could walk at all, let alone strut.
Gisella turned her head to keep the woman in view as the hovercoach slid silently past. Where could she be going dressed like that? Gisella knew that she would die if she was forced into such an outfit. She had always dressed in long, modest gowns that covered her from neck to ankles and she always wore gloves, the better to protect her hands.
She looks like a woman from one of those vids…the ones I found stashed in the attic. But Gisella pushed that thought away as being improper. She was going to be a priestess now and it was time to purge her mind of all wrong and wicked thoughts. Soon all her lovely long golden hair would be cut off as a sacrifice to the Goddess of Light and she would wear the virginal white robe forever. She had even heard rumors that the priestesses at the convent she was going to were made to wear inhibitors—chastity belts that strapped around the waist and kept any lustful sensation from occurring in the forbidden areas. Gisella wasn’t alarmed by the thought of wearing such a device—she only wished that whoever had invented it had also come up with something that worked on the brain to keep lustful thoughts at bay.
When I am at the convent meditating on the goodness of the Goddess and the purity of the Light such thoughts will be banished effortlessly, she promised herself. And I will never think of the wrong and shameful things I saw on those vids again.
In the meantime what she needed to think about was where the coach was taking her and how she could get it to turn around and head to the spaceport. Leaning forward, she looked at the confusing array of lights and controls at the front of the empty cab. Such machines were preprogrammed and Gisella had always had someone around to program them for her so she was helpless in this case. She thought about trying to push some of the buttons or levers but she was afraid she would make things worse. Still, things were already pretty bad now that the hovercoach seemed intent on taking her deeper and deeper into this seedy neighborhood. Could it really hurt to take a chance?
Just as she was reaching forward to try some of the controls, the coach slid silently to a stop in front of a particularly dilapidated building with the words, The Erogenous Zone, blinking in ancient faded neon. Girls—Girls—Girls proclaimed a newer, flashing holo sign scrolling in crimson letters three feet high in the air just above the shabby front entrance of the sleazy-looking establishment. The message alternated with the
even more worrying Hot—Nude—Willing—Our Girls Will Satisfy Your Darkest Desires. As she read the sign, Gisella had a sudden flash of recognition.
Oh, my Goddess—I know where this is! It’s the Red Star district—why would the coach stop here? Gisella had never in her life been anyplace like this but she had heard of it in whispered conversations with her friends at school. It was a forbidden topic of conversation and so it made the juiciest gossip.
Gisella debated with herself for a long moment but she couldn’t sit here all day. Since the coach was automated and preprogrammed, there was nothing she could do but get out and look for someone to help her reset its map protocol. Taking her courage in both hands, she opened the door and stepped out. But the minute her slippered feet touched the slimy pavement outside the coach zoomed noiselessly away, leaving her stranded and frightened and horribly alone.
“Wait—come back!” Gisella called uselessly at the retreating coach. Her first thought was to call her uncle but all of her belongings, including her vid phone and the few modest clothes she had brought with her for her journey to the convent were locked in the back of the hovercoach. He probably wouldn’t be inclined to help me anyway, she admitted to herself. Not after the way we parted. And I certainly don’t want to spend another night under the same roof as him. Even going to a convent where she would be doomed to a life of celibacy was better than putting up with his lecherous winks and pats on the bottom. So she was on her own.
The first thing to do was to get out of this area, Gisella told herself. And then maybe she could find a kind and decent person to help her. All she needed to do was place an interplanetary call to the convent and let them know what had happened and she was certain the head priestess would send someone to get her. They were expecting her by tomorrow, after all.
I’d better get started. I don’t want to be stuck here when it gets dark. Just the thought gave Gisella the shivers. She turned and was about to start walking down the crumbling, slimy pavement when someone caught her by the arm and swung her around.
“There y’are, girly. And here I was wondering when you was gonna arrive.” A man in a stained red silk vest was beaming at her. He was monstrously fat and none too clean with an odor like cheap liquor and cheaper perfume, as though he had recently been with a woman of ill repute. Not that Gisella would know anything about that. She had lived a very sheltered life in the wealthy Knob Hill district of Beta Six for most of her twenty-two years. Maybe too sheltered, she thought warily. If only her education had included some self-defense classes! But it hadn’t—if a lady stayed where she belonged she would have no need to defend herself. What if a runaway hovercoach took her where she didn’t belong though? What was she supposed to do in that case? Gisella wondered.
“Well now, come with me,” the fat man said, breaking her train of thought. He had a high, reedy voice and he wiped at his bald head with a dirty handkerchief as he spoke.
“I’m sorry, sir—do I know you?” Gisella looked at him doubtfully and then glanced pointedly to his fat hand holding her arm.
“Not yet you don’t, girly. But don’t you worry now—you will. Fat Sam is the name. Come on inside so we can talk.”
“But…but I need to get going. I have to get to the spaceport,” Gisella protested.
“Don’t you be worrying about all that. Fat Sam has you in hand now,” he said. And ignoring her protests, he dragged her into the seedy-looking The Erogenous Zone, down a long hallway with tattered carpet and into a tiny, dirty private office. “Now then,” he said when he got himself settled in a swiveling wooden chair that creaked in protest when he lowered his bulk into it. “You belong to me and you can start work right away.”
“Excuse me?” Gisella looked at him blankly. “I think you must have me confused with someone else,” she said as politely as she could. “And while you seem like a very nice man, I am on my way to the Temple of Light so I am not currently in need of a job.” She looked around her, shivering at the thought of having to wait tables in this dirty establishment. She couldn’t imagine what other job such a man would offer her.
Fat Sam was frowning. “I ain’t no nice man and there ain’t been no mistake, girly,” he said, the corner of his plump mouth skewing down in an angry grimace. “Your uncle’s named Edgar Trelain, right?”
“Well, yes,” Gisella said doubtfully. “Do you know him?”
“Do I know him?” Fat Sam snorted laughter. “Do I know him? The son of a bitch owes me a clear six hundred credits. And seein’ as
how he ain’t got two credits to rub together, he sent me you as payment.”
“You can’t be serious—you must be joking!” Gisella gasped, unable to take in the enormity of the situation.
“No joke, girly. Your uncle owes me big. Good for nothing son of a whore that he is, he ain’t paid me jack for months. Kept tellin’ me ‘bout his niece, though, sayin’ how you’d be worth the whole debt.” Fat Sam leered at her appreciatively. “Can’t say as he was wrong, neither.”
“But…but it doesn’t matter how much he owes you, I’m not to blame,” Gisella protested. “And he can’t just…just trade me to you like an old hovercoach he doesn’t want anymore to cover his debts. He doesn’t own me!”
“Matter of fact, by Beta Six laws he does own you, girly. He’s your legal guardian until you’re twenty-three and seein’ as how you just turned twenty-two not too long ago, that means I get you for a good ten Earth-standard months. Which ought to be plenty of time for you to pay back that six hundred credits he owes me.” He laughed, a thick, greedy sound that made Gisella’s skin crawl. “Plenty of time. Just lookit you—tight, high tits, firm ass, and all that long blonde hair and them big brown eyes. Plus I’m bettin’ since you was headed for a convent your cunt is as tight as a miser’s purse—they don’t take nothin’ but virgins in them places, so I’m told. Oh yeah, the customers are gonna eat you up, girly. Eat you up and beg for seconds.”
“Customers? What customers? What are you talking about?” Gisella looked around her wildly as if hordes of eager, hungry men were already lining up behind her. Swallowing hard, she thought of the worst possibility she could imagine. “Do you…is
this one of those places where the girls dance without…without their clothes?” She didn’t see how she could be expected to get up on a stage and take off her clothing in front of a bunch of men but what else could the fat, smelly man who claimed to own her possibly want?