by Toshiba

Disclaimers:

I'm not Toriyama, and even though I am mercilessly abusing his characters please don't sue.

This story has sex: that's right, sex. If you’re under legal age I suggest that you don't read this; get your minds out of the gutter and do your homework.

I have to thank the Lady of Lemony Additions, Evil Orange Crayon, for the use of her original story. I would also suggest that you read Shackles and Chains first so this story will make sense. She also told me what Rhydin and Gor actually is so much praise should go to her. I apologize in advance if to the author of Vegetasei Ascendant, I have used one of your character names and somewhat of the premise of her story. If you have any questions or comments please don't hesitate to email me.

The Saiyajin’s eyes darkened as he watched the lovely creature walked out of the room. The movement of her hips was hypnotizing as he noticed the slight limp as she moved. His usual smirk returned to his lips, a sense of his old stubborn pride starting to come back. For awhile there he had the little human on the ropes, she had been scared of him; he had smelt her fear. Even after she had taken back the control she was still under his power. He could still feel her lithe body under his own, moaning and writhing in pleasure. Vegita licked his lips of the mix of her blood and juices, again savoring the ‘Mistress’s’ sweet taste. His mind almost went back to the earlier time when his imagination had reversed their roles, the proud beautiful ‘Mistress’ as his pleasure slave. His body almost replayed its earlier response until he was awaken from his fantasy by a hard tug on the chain around his neck.

"Come, boy. As the Mistress is done with you now we will continue your ‘training’."

The Saiyajin prince gritted his teeth and growled low in his throat. These humans dared to order him to come like a common slave boy, they would pay with their… His mental tirade was suddenly halted as pain shot through his body. One of the guards kicked his already injured back while the other laughed at the Saiyajin’s obvious pain. Vegita cried out, as much to make them stop as in the agony he was feeling. The laughing guard raised a hand to halt his companion.

"He won’t be a problem, especially after he meets the ‘Master’."

They grabbed Vegita by his shackled arms and dragged him through the halls. The Prince’s body had not the energy to fight or even stand, his once proud tail scrapping across the marble floor. He was slipping in and out of conscience as he tried to focus on what his captors were saying. Master? He had not remembered anything about a Master; these stupid weaklings talked only of their ‘Mistress’. His body felt as if it was a dead weight and his mind was inevitable drowning into the black ocean of unconsciousness.

All around was darkness, enveloping his body and mind. Vegita felt himself being swallowed into a vortex of nothing, falling, falling with no end in sight. Please stop this, his tortured mind cried. I have to do something, anything before I forget who I am all together. He continued to fall but the darkness slowly was replaced by colors, then finally images, images of his old life. His first trainer, the first time he focused his energy into a ki attack, the day he was declared heir, replaced the darkness outside and the emptiness inside. The images them progressed further, as he became stronger, surpassing even his own father. He was the strongest of all Saiyajins until he had met his equal, Kakarott.

He experienced the day as if it were happening before his eyes. The sounds of armed combat, the sight of fighting forms, the smell of blood, the memory of that tournament inundated his senses. The tournament for the royal guard, the most brutal of all Saiyajin tests of skill. It attracted the best warriors in the land to fight for the chance to be a member of the King’s Personal Guard. There was never more than two openings and so every four years, when the tournament rolled around, competition was fierce and death in the ring not uncommon. He remembered watching the activity from the royal box, seething at his father, at royal etiquette itself for keeping him out of the fun. He recognized most of the fighters: low-level elites and the sons of his father’s court, as well as older elites. Watching the fighting with an air of disinterest as his father and Nappa pointed out a good block or combination, Vegita noticed a new figure, a new power.

"Oh, Bardock’s son. Kakarott I believe his name is." replied the King at the newcomer’s presence.

"What, a lower class squad leader’s son trying for the King’s Guards! The ingrates tail should be cut off for such insolence." the Commander fumed.

"Calm yourself, Nappa. The upstart won’t make it passed the first round, let alone try for contention. Who knows, maybe his tail won’t be the only thing he loses."

The Prince ignored the two old men. The third class would die but hopefully he would at least put up a good fight. The fight was good but the outcome not as the crowd had assumed. The medium build third class beat his first round opponent and the one after that, and the one after that until he was the last one standing, the ultimate winner and the next member of the King’s Guards. The shock rang out as he knelt before the royal box, placing one fist over his heart and pledged allegiance in his native Saigyno.

The giant bald headed Saiyajin muttered curses under his breath while the King merely sneered at the young man in front of him. The Prince though had other plans. Jumping over the side of the box, he floated down to stand in front of the knelt warrior.

"You are a great warrior, beyond your birth and years, but this mockery is over. Fight me, and if you succeed you will be both King’s Guard and my sparring partner."

"And if I lose?" The taller Saiyajin said in an oblivious manner.

"You won’t live long enough to find out." said the Prince, calmly as he jumped at the lower class. The two fought it out for hours, putting their all into every blow, block and ki attack. The fight was so evenly matched that the crowd didn’t move or speak, just stared at the combatants in silent awe. From the view of an observer, the match was still open, a 50/50 chance for the outcome but both warriors knew the truth. Kakarott, for all his skill and power had come off several brutal matches while the powerful Prince was fresh and had finally worked up to his full potential. The younger man stayed the inevitable as long as he could but was caught off guard by a particularly massive blow and propelled into the stadium wall, his strength all but gone. The victorious warrior walked up to his fallen enemy, spit some blood out of his mouth and spoke at a tone that only the other man could hear.

"You have saved yourself today, Kakarott."

The last word echoed in his mind as he was roughly jerked awake by the hard pulling of his chains. What! Chains! his mind screamed, still not fully awaken from the past. His eyes were still unfocused to the dim light as he stared up at a figure of medium build with wild spiky hair.

"Kakarott?" he finally said aloud what his mind had been echoing.

A swift sensation of pain ripped through his body yet his mind could not leave the past.

"Hold your tongue, maggot. How dare you talk such a way to the Master. He is your overlord, second only to the Mistress herself."

"So," a dark tenor voice came to life. "This is Mistress Bulma’s new acquisition. He has a strong build; he would make a good guard."

"Actually, Master Yamcha, he is to be used as a pleasure slave for the Mistress."

Vegita’s eyes finally focused on the light. In front of him stood a man of medium build and long black hair that formed spikes around his head. While a resemblance to his sparring partner and ally did exist, in the man’s build, his hair and his angular black eyes, they were as different as night and day. This human, Yamcha they had called him, was smaller, his face was marred with deep scars and the obvious furry appendage was lacking. Unlike the slaves he had encountered earlier this one had armor, dark blue and white; the house colors if he remembered correctly.

"Bulma’s new pet" the man said lightly under his breath. Though the words were hardly over a whisper Vegita perceived the anger in their utterance.

"What has this unworthy one done to merit a visit to me?"

As his senses slowly returned to him, the Prince finally started to take notice of his surroundings. The room he now occupied was as sharply contrasted with the hall as its owner to the ‘Mistress’. A feeling of pain and death overcame the room, mixing with the damp air and strong odors, making it unpleasant to breathe. His surroundings were decorated in a style worthy of the Saiyajin King: bondage and torture devices lay before him, while various whips, swords and other weapons graced the walls. Completing the mood of the room burned several peat torches that cast shadows everywhere. It was then that the gravity of the human’s words fully pushed themselves into his mind; why send him here?

"The Mistress had tested his worth and will keep him, but she has decided that he must be broken before he can be of true worth to her."

"Tough nut to crack, ne? But again, why to me? You could do this yourself; if you beat a dog long enough it will obey, I’m sure the same would be true for this monkey."

"We have reason to believe, sir, that he may have wounded the Mistress during coupling. Such actions, it was felt, must be handled swiftly and brutally. The Mistress also requested him for later so we felt you would knew the proper tools to use."

A renewed sense of anger filled the head guard and slave. The Mistress was known for keeping kajrus, male slaves, but she never requested them more than once a night; well almost never. He still remembered his first night in this house. After his ‘testing’ she requested him again and again, every night for almost six months. By the end of that time she had promoted him to full time guard and the requests stopped, never to start again. Since his time no other pleasure slave had surpassed him in her eyes, he had assumed, but this boy, this monkey-tailed freak could accomplished it. His anger increased almost to the point at which it boiled his blood.

"The Mistress requests him for later use, well I guess we better make sure not to cut him."

"But the Mistress said twenty lashes." one of the nervous guards replied. They had seen the Master mad but the strange glint in his eyes was foreign and frightening.

"Oh, don’t worry; he will receive his punishment." The Saiyajin regarded the human with uneasy eyes, having noticed what the guards had before. The human laughed and grabbed a thick handled whip with a flattened blade. The human smirked; watching the Saiyajin tensed his back as he pressed a small button on the handle. An eerie glow surrounded the flattened end of the whip and the metal collar surroundings Vegita’s neck.

"Leave us!" Yamcha said to the two slaves. "I can handle this one myself." Vegita perceived the light tapping of the soldier’s heels echoing across the floor, becoming fainter and fainter until the sound died. The prince sensed around for another sign of life but all that existed was the shallow sound of his own breathing. For a moment he thought they must have left him alone. The collar impeded his ki so he lost the ability to sense other energy forms.

"So, Bulma’s new pet. How such a lowly monkey as yourself ascended to such a high position is beyond me. Oh well, I suppose it is none of my concern; you are not the first and she will soon bore of you. Maybe I should kill you now, boy, and take you out of your misery. They say that those who the Mistress keeps become devoted to her. After she abandons them they become shells of their former selves. She is like a narcotic to a man, to have her goes beyond any reason."

"I didn’t know you cared." replied Vegita, an air of sarcasm tainting his words.

"Fool, you do not deserve such a prize as the Mistress. They told me that you caused her pain, that she limped afterwards. We don’t take so kindly to such treatment here."

The Saiyajin’s razor wit finally comprehended the words beyond the words, the stupid human is jealous. His characteristic smirk returned to his feature; this could be fun. "Rather a dominatrix your Mistress is, ne?" The man was taken back by the Saiyajin’s comments and nodded despite himself.

"You’re right about one thing, she could become addictive; hearing her moans, touching her body, but only to one who is weak. Any pleasure exchanged between us is from me to her. Who knows, maybe I’ll become her drug; unlike other people." Vegita suppressed a chuckle as he watched the human turned from tan to purple. The stupid fool was being manipulated like clay, his emotions giving the Prince a method of control. The smirk died on his lips and a wave unbelievable agony shot through his body and a scream ripped from his mouth. The smugness was quickly replaced by a look of hatred in Vegita’s eyes.

"Well that silenced you, didn’t it. Rather impressive collar you have there, I bet you didn’t even realize it. Did no one ever tell you? This house has a specialty when it comes of slaves, the finest technical slaves in the land. The Mistress trains these slaves, a very intelligent woman; she even produced the collar you are wearing and this whip. That collar, I’m sure they told you, controls the use of your ki but it can also cause your ki to flare so every time I hit you with this whip it stimulates your ki to flare. Quite a system, not only to you feel the whip but you’re blasted by your own ki, how weak the Mistress seems now?"

If the human said anything after it was lost to Vegita. The Saiyajin writhed in pure agony as the whip came down on his back with an intensity he had never felt before. The pain was also double sided as his once displaced ki now sprang to life, shocking him with an increasing force as the whip came down upon his already wounded back harder and harder. The attack continued until Vegita’s body could take no more as his mind shut down once again to escape the pain.

Yamcha stared down at the unconscious man after he had finished and admired his work. He grinned viciously, the slave’s will would soon crack or he will die, either way there will soon be nothing left of him. He regarded the new lashes about the slave’s back with pride; just as the Mistress had wanted, not one cut. The head guard walked towards the door and called back to the guards to come and retrieve the boy. The Master then faced his charge again as he whipped his back once more and watched the blue-white light envelope the unconscious body. The boy cried out in his sleep, making Yamcha smile.

"Good night, Sweet Prince."

~~~~~

"Mistress, the Saiyajin’s space pod had been recovered and is now on its way to Bushi House. Do you have a biding for the lowly servant boy?

"Yes, my boy. I wish for you to return to Mistress ChiChi’s and ask her for lodging for the night for yourself and Thak and Sar’in. I wish for the two to go travel and study this before I arrive."

"Mistress," piped up one of her technical slaves. "Do you believe that wise? The Lady of Bushi House is known for her violent temper. If we were to offend her by our visit it could start a war between the houses." Sar’in stated quickly, hoping that voicing his concern would not mean ending his life. The frightened man glanced up at his Mistress, her beauty nearly taking his breath away. He still remembered when he was first sold by his old master and sent to the marble palace. Little was known of the Mistress, she was a new slaver, which typical meant a brutal life awaited him. The truth was very different. The Mistress knew all her slaves by names if not by function. Beatings were a rare occurrence, if they happened at all, reserved only for great crimes against the house and great insolence against the Mistress. Certain freedoms were also given to all slaves: to take companions, to use their own names and they were taught first and sometimes second knowledge. In return for her kindness she asked only for their service and their loyalty which all gave freely to her. It was through her that he learned to be a technical slave which increased his worth, both monetary and self, several fold. He inwardly smiled, there wasn’t a slave in this house that would die for her and although they feared her, they knew that she would never torture or kill those who were obedient to her. In truth, most were too enchanted with her beauty or her spirit to disobey. Even as he questioned her reason it was in concern for her.

"Don’t worry, Sar’in, the Mistress ChiChi is wise despite her temper. She knows that attacking me would leave nothing but enemies around her. She requires out knowledge as much as we require her protection. She would not jeopardize our treaty because of a mere inconvenience. Your point does contain merit though. Bring with you two bolts of red and black silks as a tribute, a sign of out continuing alliance. She would not dismiss a gift of her own house silks."

"Hai, Mistress. We will leave with the hour." the message now remarked as the two technicals nodded in agreement. The three finally took their leave of the hall.

"Is there any new business, Dazu?" Bulma asked her slave. She was seated on her throne as she had earlier that day when the Saiyajin had been brought to her. A smile of success graced her lips; she was truly blessed. The hall had been cleaned again from the earlier episode and it was now filled with several slaves: some refilling her wine goblet and replacing the overripe fruit on the serving platter. Others were displaying fine silks and satins for her approval. In the corner stood a young girl playing a czehar for her entertainment, a haunting melody lilting through the chamber.

Dazu stood at her side, holding a bill of sale in one hand and a rapidly moving stylus in the other as he tabulated accounts. She smiled at he continued his work, knowing soon he would answer her question. He had been a pleasure slave at first, his only training from a cruel former master’s daughter. She used him as such in the beginning but cared not for him in that capacity; taking pleasure slaves was hard for her at that time, it brought back too many memories. It was by accident that she discovered his talent for economics. A natural haggler he was, and a quick study with numbers. It was then that she taught him mathematics and promoted him to head advisor, she still did not regret the move.

"My Lady," Dazu said in a low voice, kneeling to whisper in his Mistress’s ear. "Mata has returned with a report. Do you wish to clear the room?"

"Hai," replied Bulma, a concerned look now marring her brow. "Send everyone out and set the guards outside the door. I want no one to disturb us."

"Yes, Mistress." Dazu said and stood up once again. Loudly clapping his hands, he drew the attention of the room. "Your Mistress has requested that you leave the hall. You will return upon her command. Is that understood?"

"Hai, the Mistress’ wishes shall be done." The room collectively replied. The once occupied room now emptied, leaving only Dazu and Bulma.

"Send Mata to me, Dazu, and wait outside the door. I will call if I require you."

"Hai, My Lady." Dazu bowed to his Mistress and walked out the door, shutting it tightly behind.

"Approach, Mata of Ar. What news have you for me?"

"Love, Honor and Devotion to you, Mistress." A small dark figure removed itself from the shadows and knelt before the seated woman.

"I ask again, Mata; what news from Okazaki?"

The figure finally stood and removed the cloak from around its shoulders. The black garment flowed down their back and pooled on the floor behind them.

"I bring word, My Lady, that Gero had been in contact with members of black dagger, two assassins to be exact; a brother and sister." spoke the now revealed young woman. Clothed completely in black her crystalline eyes glowed brightly. It was said that Mata of the assassin class could see in the dark with those eyes.

"What kind of contact? Was any conversation heard; any money exchanged hands?"

"No, Mistress, to both your last questions. I, nor any others in my employ could hear the conversation but no money has exchanged hands, of this I am sure."

A look of unseen fear crossed Bulma’s face almost gaining a response from the stoic operative. Mata still remembered the look in those blue eyes when she was caught, the first time ever. Mata had been cunning and quick but not enough to crack the security system. A look of triumph and opportunity shone in those eyes as Mata was informed of her options: a painful death in the torture chamber or her freedom, for a price. With a long suffering in front of her Mata agreed to life and one assignment, to monitor the house of Okazaki. In truth it was a simple assignment but did hold a lot of interest so Mata took the job several months ago. She never knew the dealings between the two slavers, Gero never even mentioned the name of the beautiful woman, but as she regarded the look of fear in Bulma’s eyes she realized that this went far beyond a mere rivalry.

"I thank you for this news." said Bulma, finally snapping out of her stupor. "If there is anything new I wish to be informed immediately."

"Your will be done, O merciful one." Mata bowed low and retreated back to the shadows, leaving Bulma alone in the suffocating silence. She had a faith in Mata; Bulma had held the girl’s life in her hands and had given it back. Though the assassin was greatly feared she still possessed an honor and loyalty which transferred over to the woman who spared her life.

No longer being able to stand the emptiness of the room she called out for Dazu to return, the sound of her raised voice echoing through the hall.

The door opened again and her aide and slaves returned silently not questioning the meaning of the absence. The assembled returned to their places before the interruption and continued on as if nothing happened.

"Mistress," Dazu finally spoke. "The village Wisdom is hear to see you on a matter of vital importance."

"Her words I would assume. Well send the Madame Babba in, I would love to see the new snake oil she is trying to sell this time." One of her attendants exited the hall to fetch the bothersome witch while Bulma awaited the annoying woman’s entrance.

"Mistress, may the fates bless your threshold."

"Ah, Madame Babba, do you have a new miracle cure or charm for me today?" Bulma looked down at the old crone with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Babba was a Wisdom, a healer and seer though who she ever healed and what she ever saw Bulma did not know. The woman did have powers, at times she did predict the future but those times were few and far between. The woman had been given the post years ago and nothing short of her death or retirement would remove her. A wicked thought entered Bulma’s mind as she thought about changing Mata’s obligation. Bulma’s sharp blue eyes again returned to the witch who stared at the young woman in silence.

"Tell me, Madame; you are the seer, what does the future hold for me?"

"The future is unclear, My Lady of Modulus." a new voice replied as a cloaked figure stepped through the door and finally stood next to Babba. Once she had finished her march into the hall she continued. "The future is unclear, Mistress, the path is not decided yet, the events that shape what is to come have yet to occur. I see images, symbols of what could be."

"Who, might I ask, are you and how dare you speak so openly to me? I could have you enslaved or worse for this." Bulma’s eyes snapped with anger as she regarded the once vocal figure. At first glance, the person could have been Mata again but the voice was different and did not hold the same respect. It allowed its hood to fall and a small pale face framed with long brown hair came into view.

"I, My Lady, am Kayra, a Bruha, Haruspex and healer. I have traveled many leagues to come to your house."

"Rather an impressive resume, you look now more than twenty yet have greater ability than the Madame Babba, if it is true."

The girl stared straight into the eyes of the Blue Lady, her green gaze never leaving Bulma’s blue. "Do you wish to know the clues of the fates? They have shown me the life of the blue haired slaver. They speak of you, they reveal to me nothing but images, images of the future."

Bulma humphed and broke her gaze with the girl, it felt as if this Kayra was looking into her soul. A verbal spar this seer wants, well why not indulge her and then prove her wrong. The idea of one more defeated witch caused her to grin mentally.

"You say you know my past as well as my future. Tell me something them about my past, what do you see in me?"

"Chains, My Lady. I look and all I see is chains, from the past, present and what is to come. It seems as if you can never escape chains, for they will always bind you."

Bulma held in her the shock as the weight of what the girl was saying filtered through her brain. When first the girl said chains it made her want to call out in amusement, she was a slaver after all. The smugness dies as the last sentence left the girl’s lips: "You can never escape … for they always bind you.". How, Bulma’s mind cried, how could she know? The truth has been buried for so long, how did she see? Her gaze returned to the girl, the anger well in place but the silent amusement was absent in her blue pools.

"A simple chain reference to a slaver, that is the great proof of you powers? You’re not even worthy enough to enslave, let alone try for the position of Wisdom."

"I do not wish to be a Wisdom, Lady Bulma. I have come here asking for a trade, a business arrangement with you. I will provide you with my services for the honor of residing within your house as a free person."

The hall went silent at the Bruha’s request. Never had such a request been made, to live in a slave house as a free servant was unheard, it was not done.

The girl had played the card and held back, waiting for the next reply before going on the defensive.

A laugh of malice escaped Bulma’s lips to break the silence of the chamber. She laughed for several minutes as the one called Kayra never responding, either with her mouth or her facial expression.

"You wish to work as a free person within my house. Apart from the obvious question of why I can’t merely enslave you, why should I even bother with you?"

"You require proof of my claims I see. A new slave has recently become part of this house, one who was not a slave before. In a recent trial with this slave he nicked you, leaving a scar. You wish to tame this creature, to break its will but it cannot be done, not as you are doing it. I see death with him, far beyond in his past, and he will lead it to you. You will never tame this creature, it means either your death or his own."

Bulma’s eyes widened in shock, the emotions she could no longer hid. The Saiyajin was known of in her house but her ‘testing’ was still quite unknown to her slaves. She stared at the gown she wore, a blue long necked sleeveless gown she decided to wear after her bathing. Though she washed thoroughly the boy’s scent must still be on her. And, as she suppressed a small moan, she could still feel his touch everywhere. The comment about the bruise was the ultimate shock, she had allowed no one to see bathe her or see the cut, so how did this girl know?

The figure in black, taking the Mistress’ silence as a response continued. "To prove my complete worth, I will heal your wounds, if you will allow me."

Bulma, still in a state of shock, nodded for Kayra to proceed. The girl pulled back her cloak to reveal several pouches tied around her waist. She sat on the ground and began placing various quantities of herb into a mortar, all the while chanting in a language foreign to Bulma’s ears. The Bruha then took the pestal and crushed the herbs in the mortar while still chanting. From one of the bags she retrieved a small vial and poured its contents into the mixture. A green glow suddenly radiated from the mortar, shocking those that were there to witness the event. When the faint light finally stopped, the girl picked up the bowl and placed it in front of Bulma.

"I did not believe you would allow me to touch you to put on the salve. You just have to place it upon a wound and it will heal instantly."

Dazu, who had been watching the whole scene unfold between the two women felt that it had gone on long enough; he had to stop this girl before either her or the Mistress did something rash. Though he knew the Mistress obviously didn’t understand what a Bruha was his memory of them had never faded. A group of witches, powerful spell weavers. Most were harmless, following the code of Wiccan law but there were others, those that had allowed the power to corrupt them. He shivered internally at the thought of some of the Bruha he had encountered in his time and he knew of the curse that they would cast. It was said that if a Bruha is enslaved, attacked or is killed within a house, a curse is placed upon every member of the household, from the master to the animals. Curses could go on for generations, killing off a family until there was nothing and no one left. If the Mistress struck this girl and the curse is unleashed it would be the end of them all.

"Do you really expect me to try that, it could be poisoned or anything." Bulma responded to the girl.

"Ah, so it is loyalty that you wish to test." Kayra merely pulled off her cloak off all the way. Hidden in the fold up until this moment was a broad sword, worthy of a fighting house. The assembled crowd gasped at the sight of huge sword, healers and seers never carried weaponry of any kind and that this young girl drew a sword, such a sword on the Mistress, nearly sent the hall into disarray.

"Silence, all of you. What is the meaning of this, to kill me so formally in my own house, as if you would get halfway to my throne before my guards would have a sword in your back. Speak wisely, Bruha." Bulma stared down at the girl with an air of calm in her voice but her eyes betrayed her fearfulness. Could it be that Mata was wrong, that money might have exchanged hands? She once heard that if a house of assassins took an assignment they would not rest until the charge was died. A look of utter bewilderment hit her when the holder of the menacing sword grabbed the blade and handled the hilt to Bulma.

"You wish to test my loyalty and my potion so we shall do this all in one. Strike me dead, if you think I am not telling the truth, no curse will come upon your house and you will be rid of me. If you trust me, nick me with the sword and I will test the potion to see if it is not poison."

Bulma looked down at the girl, a slight admiration found in her expression. The girl was wise beyond her years to think of such a scheme, she could think of few who would do such a drastic move to prove loyalty. Bulma took the sword in her hands and marveled at the hidden strength of the girl. Kayra had held the sword steady at the tip with one hand yet Bulma had trouble holding the sword up with two. She walked up to the Bruha with the sword scrapping the floor. Stopping when she had reached striking distance she raised the sword to shoulder level and looked down at the girl.

"You have a wisdom beyond your years."

"As do you, Mistress."

With that Bulma swung the blade, slashing the static figure across the bicep of her left arm. Kayra smiled as she watched the blood begin to seep through the slash. Her right hand reached over to cover the wound, to avoid spilling blood on the floor and she walked to the concoction in the mortar. Removing her hand from her bruised arm she gathered a small sample of crushed herbs and applied it to the wound. A glowing similar to that of earlier occurred on the girl’s arm and where the wound was before a new scar was all that remained.

"The mixture is not strong but your wound is not serious. Mistress, if you wish?"

Bulma dropped the sword upon the floor and walked back to her throne. Picking up the crushing vessel she tipped her finger in and retrieved a small amount of mixture. Unzipping the high collar of her gown she exposed the small puncture marks of the Saiyajin slave and applied the salve to the wound. A strange glow began on her neck and a calming delicious warmth started on her neck and traveled through her body. Her eyes close as if to savor the feeling of this wonderful warmth and opened when she no longer felt it. Calling for a mirror, she examined her neck, as flawless as it had always been; the girl would stay.

"Please sit, you have proven yourself and I would be honored if you would reside in my house. Please, a drink for my guest."

Kayra quickly sat as various wines, fruits and other deliquesces were placed in front of her. Rather overwhelmed by the sudden attention the girl nodded her thanks and requested plain water.

"Tell me one thing, why have you come to me? If you are truly a seer you can see the future of anyone, why come to me?"

"It is a matter of some importance, My Lady, would be better spoke of in private."

"Answer me then my few other questions; how do you know of the tailed creature? I also have never seen a healer or witch who carried a sword, where are you from?"

"The creature I have seen before, in times of great sadness and death I can see them. I have seen them with you and can feel ones presence even now. I sense a great evil from them and you are in danger from it, it is far away but a danger still exists."

"Do you sense any other danger, one closer to this planet?"

"As I send before, Mistress, you cannot read the future because the events to shape it have yet to occur. As it stands the present is a stream leading to a great river and course of the water is still unclear and undrawn. I see no danger at the moment but a storm is coming in the shadows."

"Please, no more; I don’t think I could handle it tonight. I thank you for your services and request an audience with you tomorrow morning. Dazu will show you to your room."

"Yes, My Lady." The brown haired girl picked up her mortar and pestle and with the tall aide exited the hall. With a clap of her hands, Bulma dismissed the assembled crowd, Babba especially. This day had been more trying then she had ever imaged. A warm bath was what she needed to sooth her nerves and relieve her of the tension in her body at the prophecies that the little Bruha had send would come.

~~~~~

Bulma sighed as she left the bathing chamber and walked through the torch lit halls admiring the cleanliness and overall beauty of her surroundings.

A déjà vu feeling swept over the Mistress as she made her way to her room. It had only been eight hours ago that she walked through these same halls and commented about them as such. Her figure continued to make shadows on the walls as her now white linen dress swept over the marble floor. Déjà vu would also be occurring between herself and the Saiyajin boy. She licked her lips in anticipation, after his new ‘training’ she hoped her ‘little Prince’ would learn his place; although he had given her great pleasure, he still opposed her will and that would never do at all.

Her delicate feet finally stopped in front of a thick oak door. The absence of guards or any noticeable security did not seem to bother the blue haired woman. She placed a gentle hand upon a panel on the door and recited the oath of all her slave: "Love, Honor, Devotion". The door automatically unlocked and slowly swung open, revealing the room to the set of azure eyes.

The room was spacious and simple yet held a sense of elegance about it. Unlike the rest of the palace her floor was covered by an intricately woven carpet, a true pleasure on cool mornings. Along one wall sat several sat several gilded trunks filled with clothing and personal possessions. On the same side, built into the wall was a huge walk-in closet filled with her various silk, cotton, linen and satin garments. Opposite that wall stood a monument to her personal quest for knowledge: shelves and shelves of scrolls and manuscripts on every subject that humans have written on. Right in front of her line of sight was a large bay style window that looked out on her territory that spread out almost to the horizon. Her eyes finally focused on the most prominent feature, a king size canopy bed covered in white silk sheets and down filled pillows. After the quick assessment of her room her gaze landed on her object of interest, the kneeling Saiyajin being held by one of her guards.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bulma snapped at the unfortunate guard, her eyes sparkling with anger. "Why are you here in my chambers?"

"Please forgive this ungrateful one, Mistress, but Yamcha feared if the Saiyajin were left alone in your room her may escape or worse."

"I thank you for your concern for my well being; now go. And tell the ‘Master’ that is not my master nor I his slave."

"Yes, Mistress." said the guard as he bowed low and exited the room.

Now that the two were alone the Mistress examined her prey. The Prince knelt in tower and kept his eyes from her body and her gaze. Her large eyes traveled over the terrain of his body, taking in the view of his wide muscular shoulders and chest, his flat stomach and powerful legs. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the thick shackles around his wrists and ankles, thanking the fates that the collar kept his ki in check, ensuring that she was in no danger. The assessment continued as she examined his side and walked around his to face his back. Her eyes lingered on his ass, her tongue returning to moisten her dry lips. His beautiful body, she thought, and that tail. He had groined when she stroked it earlier; it must be a sensitive area for his kind, these Saiyajins. She smirked at the thought of a powerful warrior race, dictated to by no one and yet their Prince was under the whim of a human female. The very idea made her want to laugh out loud in triumph until her gaze hit his back. The bruises and welts of her punishment played across his back, displaying a range of reds, yellows, browns, blues, blacks and purples. Her eyes soon turned away and she heard a knocking at her half-opened door.

"May this lowly girl serve her Mistress?" an attractive blond said. Like all female service slaves she wore a mid-calf white dress with a low neck and no sleeve and a thick hemp binding fiber tied around her waist.

"No thank you, not tonight." Bulma replied in a soft lyrical voice. "You may leave it on the floor." The girl merely nodded and set a flask of wine and a bejeweled goblet upon the floor next to the door. Once her task was complete the girl bowed low and turning to the hall, she closed the door and left the pair alone once again.

"Now Vegita, Prince of Saiyajin, you must show me how much you have learned. I wish for you to sweeten and bless the wine."

A smoldering anger flared to life in his dark eyes. In his mind he was still recalled what that bastard human had said that this slight woman had caused him so much pain. His life was forfeit to her so that she could rule over him. He decided then that he would see her fall.

Vegita finally glanced up to look at the woman who had turned his life into a hell. It was true what they say, "Hell hath no fury like a woman" scorned, mad, or in any state. He nearly laughed at the irony of his fate, sentenced to Hell by an angel. Truly she was beautiful; his memory did not do her justice. His mind went back to their earlier encounter when she had worn the paint upon her face. The false colors only hid her true loveliness.

Her voice sprang to life again as their eyes met. "I issued a command, boy, to sweeten my wine. Would you like another tour through the torture chamber?" Vegita cringed at the thought. "Or maybe you need some encouragement." As the honeyed words left her mouth her hands reached up and slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders, leaving her naked before him. His eyes widened and a light throbbing began in his lower member. His eyes swept over her body as she had his, admiring her ample curves and porcelain skin. Ignoring his presence and his gaze she seductively walked towards the door, the sway of her hips hypnotizing him yet again. With her back turned to his shackled form, she bent down to retrieve the flask and goblet from the floor. Opening the flask, she filled the goblet with wine and walked back to the waiting Saiyajin, her finger circling the lip of the drinking vessel as she stepped up to him. Vegita took it and, as if in a trance, swishing the rich crimson liquid around the golden bowl of the glass. The physical advantage he had over her was gone but he still had a power over her. We’ll see, little human, who is the master and who is the slave.

"Do as I command, Prince; sweeten and bless the wine."

A wicked idea entered Vegita’s mind as he took a finger and dipped it in the sweet liquid. Removing his finger, he lightly sucked on it to taste the wine.

"’Mistress,’" he said in a low tone, "I did not get enough of a taste, may I try again?"

Bulma had watched the action with his fingers and a series of mixed emotions swam through her head. Annoyance over his mockery of the sweetening ritual was replaced by curiosity over what he was doing and a light erotic feeling as she watched him suckle the wine soaked finger.

"Hai, you may, boy."

Vegita lowered his head to hide the smirk that played across his lips. He again dipped his fingers in the wine but instead of placing the digit to his lips he grazed it across her throat.

"Nani?" Bulma gasped before Vegita descended to her neck and throat, suckling and licking her skin not only for the wine but for her taste. His lips and tongue teased her delicate flesh as she craned her neck to give him better access. Her breathing became heavy and a warmth found life between her legs.

She lightly sighed her disappointment as his lips left her throat. The Saiyajin’s dark smug look met her own lustful blue one as he spoke to her again. "’Mistress,’" he repeated again, his voice deep and husky. "I still am unsure of the taste of this wine. May I taste again?" Bulma just nodded for she feared she may be beyond speech at this point. His pride and ego flared, she was giving in to him; manipulating her as he had the stupid male human. His pride was soon replaced by anger at the thought of his torturer. Her half-lidded eyes fell on his hand as two fingers circled through the wine and this time descended to her breast. She moaned deliciously in her throat as the smooth skin of his hand caressed her breast, lightly squeezing the soft mound, teasing and pinching her nipple, and leaving a trail of red wine over its surface. Just as last time his head fell to the location of his anointing and his tongue lapped at the wine, traveling first to the top of her breast and working his way down to the underside. She gasped and began to pant as he took her pink, wine tipped nipple into his mouth and began to suck hard and lick the tip of her mound. Too absorbed in the pleasure he was giving her, she didn’t notice him begin his anointing of her other breast.

As he was massaging her curve he stopped his adornment of her first breast and stared up into her glorious face. Her eyes rolled opened when she realized the absence of his mouth upon her but his hand continued to play with her second breast, sending shivers up and down her spine. A look of desperation set in her lovely smoky eyes. The question of why he had stopped and if he would continue played on her features plainly for him to see.

"Do you wish me to taste again, ‘My Lady’?" he stated with a light chuckle.

Bulma tried to force down the glorious sensations he was giving birth to inside of her and made out as curt a response as she could. It ended in a groan as he renewed his assault with the worship of her second breast.

By now Bulma was panting heavily and was having difficulty standing and thinking. Her arms, which had been at her sides the whole time, wrapped around the Prince’s head as her nimble fingers played in his unruly hair. Her throat could only produce incoherent moans of pleasure as his tongue and lips continued their work. He finally finished with both breasts and nestled his face between the two, nipping and kissing the valley in between as he purred seductively. Bulma shivered at his actions and moaned a little harder. Though she was the master and he the slave she realized he was in complete control while she was a prisoner of the sensations coursing through her.

Vegita teasing lips and tongue moved up her body, kissing the crevices of her collarbone and back up to her neck.

"’Mistress,’" he said again into her ear as he softy purred. "I have tasted the wine. Do you wish me to go to the blessing?" Bulma was beyond coherent thought, only perceiving what the Prince was saying to her. With all other forms of communication lost to her, she responded the only way possible and pinched the base of his tail. The Saiyajin growled low in his throat, his self-control beginning to crumble. With that encouragement, Bulma went further, stroking the soft fur of his tail as she kissed the hard line of his jaw. At that moment she could think of nothing more than returning the desire she now felt for him. Vegita’s mouth went dry as he allowed her to tease and delight him in turn. There was no sense of master and slave between the two. A mutual need had been awakened and only the person in front of them would do. Feeling a sudden urgency by the arousal she was creating in him, he lifted her against him and walked towards the bed, still carrying the wine-filled goblet.

The Prince laid her down upon the sheet and simple stared at her beautiful writing body. Almost unheard of fear crept into his mind, what if he hurt her? He might not have his usual strength but he was more than capable.

It was then that the object of his desire and contemplation raised herself up and with a wicked grin said: "You wish to offer a blessing or do you still require a taste?" Her words snapped him out of his stupor and returned his attention to her.

"I believe I am ready for a blessing, Mistress." Bulma lightly smiled at hearing that word. Every time he said it, the word became softer, a term of endearment instead of the sarcastic manner in which he normally uses it. She nodded her head for him to proceed and watched as he dipped his fingers in the sweet wine.

"Love," he stated softly, his lips grazing her throat.

"Honor," his voice became huskier as he traveled lower to kiss the top of both breasts and teasingly nipped at the bottom. She wondered where he would go now until her eyes glazed over in ecstasy as he moved lower to nuzzle his nose into her curls and sniff the scent of her. The wine soaked fingers began to play in the folds between her thighs, her back arching at the rubbing of his hand. He continued to play with her entrance as he kissed the line along her pelvic bone and nipped at her navel. Her hips began to thrust against his hand, urging him to do more than this sweet torture.

"Devotion," he finally said with a groan at the end as his tongue flicked at her clitoris. Her body almost doubled over at the wondrous sensation and she continued to thrust her hips, urging him on, feeling as if she would come out of her skin.

The sweet taste of her, mixed with the wine, was intoxicating to him. His tongue began to move beyond her entrance to stroke and suckle at her inner wall. The hands that tangled in his hair tightened their grip as she loudly groaned his name. Her legs surrounded his upper torso and squeezed him with more force than he thought possible for a human woman. Almost against her cries, he stopped and traveled back up to her earlobe.

He realized she was beyond speech and slowly began to stroke her graceful back, showing a degree of gentleness not found in their first coupling.

She looked up at him with a sense of need and finally whimpered, "Why?"

He replied back in a voice shakier than he would have liked. "Just following order, Mistress. You asked for pleasure and I will provide it, do you not trust me?" To prove his point he drifted a hand down her stomach and skimmed through her aqua curls. Bulma’s eyes involuntarily shut and she purred against him.

As she finally regained the ability to think her anger sprang to life. How dare this boy, this Saiyajin, take me to this point and leave me; I’ll show him not to mess with his Mistress. Taking a page from his own book, she grabbed the wine off a nearby table on which he had set it earlier. Dipping her slender fingers in the crimson liquid she began to move her dainty digits over his shoulders, rubbing the wine into his skin. The steady rhythm of her hands relaxed the Saiyajin, lulling him though he knew what would happen next. Her hot mouth descended upon his skin, teasing him in a manner that was harder, more aggressive than his own. Her actions earned her a moan of satisfaction and that was all she needed. Taking the wine again she performed the same ritual on his own nipples, suckling and biting as he began to move under her touch.

She looked him in the eyes and smiled, they were on the same level again and neither could deny what was coursing through them.

Vegita’s body trembled lightly as he positioned himself above her. Her hands played with the thick corded muscles of his arms and looked up at him, her eyes bottomless pools of blue. He stared into her eyes and felt himself drowning in her. Dear Kami, he would soon forget himself, could feel himself losing to her. He felt her shift under him, raising herself up to rub her chest against his own and allowing her mouth to again play with his neck. With that he entered her slowly and cried out in pain as her hands shifted to his back and sharp nail dug deep into his bruises. He yelped at the pain and nearly doubled over, falling to his side while still inside of her. Bulma winced at her own discomfort and opened her eyes to stare into his clenched ones. Her body was still throbbing from his presence. Her hands moved lightly from his back and started to stroke his shoulders, wanting only to relieve him of the pain. Vegita’s eyes slowly opened, emotions playing in his dark eyes. As if his soul as dying in him, he pleaded to her to stop the pain. "Please," he whimpered.

"Yes," Bulma replied and responded to him the only way she knew how. Her fingers grazed his jaw as her small teeth closed over his chin. She then moved up to his mouth and after a moment’s pause, she kissed him with every fiber of her soul.

Their hands and bodies developed a life of their own as their lips melded together, fusing the two souls into one. When their bodies merged, the ecstasy flowed through them like mercury. They both cried out in their pleasure as Vegita’s recent trials caught up with him and the great Saiyajin easily fell asleep, collapsing on his stomach and rolling off of her.

~~~~~

She looked at the Prince tangled amongst the silk sheets; sleeping with a look of peace upon his dark face. Spent from passion, she smirked, and the beatings. That thought brought a tinge of concern across her delicate brow. The Saiyajin, as if on command by the fates, rolled on to his side, exposing her ‘sin’ to view. The bruises and cuts on his back had stopped bleeding; her slaves would never present her with something so grotesque, but large welts and raw skin covered his back. She sighed, the energy draining of their coupling beginning to catch up with her. Vegita was too valuable to let go, as he had proven tonight, but he had to be taught. Yet to mare such a beautiful creature felt almost sacrilegious, she thought again, lightly stroking his sore back.

She had seen bruises in her time; the sting of the whip was known to her as both giver and receiver, but there was something different about the scars. She could sense an aggression in them, an anger far beyond hers in her hasty order of them. Yamcha; the image suddenly flashed into her mind. But why would he? He had never been jealous of any of the others. I guess he probably should be though. She had done something with Vegita that she had never done with another.

Her mind quickly dismissed her concern as exhaustion started to sweep over her and a yawn escaped her mouth. Her attendants had yet to arrive to remove the Saiyajin and by her order were a fair distance away, too far to hear her calls for assistance. As her eyelids became heavy over her deep blue eyes she realized that she may fall asleep with the Saiyajin in the room, alone with no one to help her. If he were to awaken before her attendants came back or before she awoke … , another yawn interrupted her train of thought. She was being lulled to sleep by him, not only the beauty of his form but by the massive radiative heat he gave off.

"He could escape or he could …" the words died on her lips as her lids closed and her body and mind gave into sleep.

* * * * *