Kasmalia is a far cry from the prestigious markets of Porto V, where only the most beautiful, most finely trained pleasure-slaves are offered for sale. On Porto, it is said,one can buy the best -- but on Kasmalia, one can buy anything, no matter how depraved or illegal, an hour at a time.
The young, handsome Merkun, bound by his sex to a lifetime of slavery, nevertheless aspires to escape the clutches of the seamy brothel-owner who's purchased him. When she enters him in Kasmalia's annual pleasure-slave contest, he manages to capture the attention of the Regent of Porto herself.
With his stunning looks, his unmatched sensuality, and sheer determination, Merkun quickly becomes the Regent's favored third in her menages. But when he realizes he is falling in love with the woman who rescued him, can Merkun capture her heart, as well?
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Reviews
5 Stars! "The blistering sex scenes will keep the reader turning the pages to find out what happens next. A wonderful addition to the Devarian series." -- ECataRomance
5 Nymphs! "A superb example of erotica that scorches the pages as Merkun's story is unfolded with scenes that include a menage and a sexual marathon of endurance. Merkun's life is a heart breaking story of sexual slavery and his quest for freedom." -- Literary Nymphs
5 Kisses! "A fine introduction to the Devarian universe for those who have not read Ms. Dafoe's earlier tales and a wonderful continuation for Devarian aficionados." -- Two Lips Reviews
5 Stars! "[A] powerhouse of sheer wanton lust. The sensuality is melded beautifully with deep emotion and tenderness... Extremely erotic, entertaining, and an extreme joy to read." -- Just Erotic Romance Reviews
"What do you want, Merkun?" Amista's voice was almost a whisper.
Merkun smiled thinly. "You know what I want."
She sighed, and rolled to a seat. "I know it's not perfect, Merkun, but the League does have its good points. I don't know if I can explain just how horrible things were, before --"
He cut her off brusquely -- an enormous breach of etiquette, but just then Merkun really didn't care. "The hour is up, my lady."
"I know." A rueful edge crept into her voice as she braced herself on the edge of the bed. "I'm not sure I can stand."
She pushed herself upright, her legs wobbling slightly. Her eyes darkened again as she looked down at him, still lying naked on the bed. "Oh, Merkun," she murmured. "You truly don't belong here."
At that, an emotion so sharp it made him gasp lanced through his heart. Closing his eyes against its intensity, he whispered, "Then take me with you."
Amista sighed again, and sat back down beside him. Reaching over, she took his hand and held it between her own. "I can't, Merkun. Believe me, it's not that I don't want to. But even if I sold everything I owned, I wouldn't have the money to buy you."
More briskly, she rose and crossed to the armor rack. Dutifully, he followed and helped her dress, securing her chest guard, buckling on the heavy shoulder-plates. Smoothly, he knelt before her to strap on her greaves, then sat back, his head down.
"Look at me, Merkun."
He raised his head. She stood before him, dressed in her heavy armor, buckling on her sword belt. "This is what I am, Merkun. I'm a Guardian captain. I'm not an admiral, or a commander-general with a private estate on Cetia VIII. Even if I could afford you, my home is a barracks or a battle cruiser, wherever I'm posted. It's no life for you."
"And this is?" He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice.
"No. No, it's not. Merkun?" He looked up again at the musing, thoughtful tone in her voice. "How would you like to go to Porto?"
Merkun froze in shock.
Porto. Even in the brothels of Kasmalia, pleasure-slaves whispered its name. Porto, where slaves were groomed for the most discerning buyers, buyers who took them into their own households, feeding them, caring for them -- keeping them, most importantly. On Kasmalia, the life of a brothel-slave tended to be brutally short.
Merkun's reaction must have shown in his eyes, because Amista held one hand up warningly. "I can't promise anything. But..." She tapped her fingers on her sword hilt. "Yes. Yes, that might..." Decisively, she turned for the door. "Come."
Confused, but feeling a flutter of unexpected hope, Merkun followed her down the broad staircase and into the first-floor public room. Wine-boys moved between the crowded tables, and pleasure-slaves were posed here and there about the room, enticing the customers to purchase more than just drinks. Amista strode toward a corner table, where Teretria was entertaining a city councilwoman. She turned to Amista with a smile. "Ah! Captain. Were you pleased with your purchase?"
"Indeed, Teretria. He's extraordinary."
Teretria smiled, and shot a catlike glance at the councilwoman. Merkun knew she was thinking that, while she might not have gotten two hundred solars from Amista for him, she might be able to get three from the councilwoman, now.
"In fact," Amista continued, reclaiming her attention, "I think you ought to enter him in the annual contest."
Merkun gasped in shock.
"What?" Teretria blinked. "Well, that's certainly high praise, Captain, but..."
"But?" Amista watched, her lips curved in a cool smile, as Teretria shuffled uncomfortably.
The annual Kasmalian pleasure-slave contest was an enormous event, and the notoriety that accrued to the brothel fielding the winning slave had made the careers -- and fortunes -- of many a brothel owner. But not only were the stiff entrance fees a deterrent to a pinch-purse like Teretria, the event was entirely Kasmalian in nature -- carnal, perverse, and utterly brutal. Slaves had been known to die in it, especially during the elimination round. Many more were ruined for life, good for nothing afterward but being gelded and made into work-slaves.
Merkun swallowed, feeling a twist of fear in his gut. But Amista glanced at him, her gaze level and confident. "I'll even pay the entrance fee myself, Teretria. Provided, of course, you pay me back from the prize money -- if he wins."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then you owe me nothing." Amista didn't even glance at her. Instead, her cool gray eyes held Merkun's intently. "But I think he will."
