The latest episode of Intergalactic Food Porn is available to order! [Excerpt]

Here is an excerpt of Undercover on an Alien Slave Planet!

Undercover on an Alien Slave Planet

The next installment in my erotic science fiction series, Intergalactic Food Porn, is available to preorder!

Head to Amazon to get yours so you can enjoy this steamy slide into submission as soon as it releases on February 11!

Here is a tasty sample:

After enjoying a raucous, bacchanalian festival with the magical woodland people of the last planet they visited, Vif is scouting a location for the next episode of their hit TV show. Gunn announces that their next location must be his home planet. He needs to go home.

Vif knew this day would come. But she has been dreading it. In Viresi, the women are slaves. She will have to play the role of Gunn’s slave to go there. When it becomes clear that an emergency at home makes this destination necessary, she reluctantly agrees.

Gunn is worried about it, too. Believing Vif won’t be convincing enough to fool the cruel tyrants who maintain the social order there that she is his slave, he sets out to teach her submission.

Preparing for Viresi

“We should start, Vif,” he said. “I want you to be prepared.”

He had prepped a schedule for the next five weeks. He handed it to me. It looked like the shot list for a kinky BDSM porn movie. He and I had made a couple of those when we were broke, before we’d sold the pilot for IFP.

“I think the hardest thing for you to master will be the small gestures of submission,” he said. “Your body language exudes defiance. You might be able to act for an hour or two. But this isn’t a shot where we can edit out a mistake. You have to become this part. And your life – and mine – will depend on you getting it right. We need to start working on that, right now.”

I looked him in the eye and frowned, irritated at this assessment of my acting ability.

“There! You can’t do that. You can never look me in the eye. I am your owner and a powerful warrior. Look at the ground, at my feet. Never in the eye!”

I looked down, my heart racing again, this time with anger as well as fear.

He made a low, hissing noise.

“That means ‘yes, sir’ or something along those lines,” he said. “It is what you say to me, to any man, in response to almost everything.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Don’t you have to learn how to be a patriarchal prick? Or does that come naturally to Viresi men?”

He laughed.

“Please don’t say anything like that on Viresi, Vif? But I don’t have to learn it. I grew up there. I unlearned it to live out here. I hate what the culture there made me into – or I did after I got a look at the rest of the universe. I don’t look forward to reanimating that asshole. But…”

He got pensive for a minute.

“Looking back, I don’t think I was the only person there who hated this. I think most people are acting out of fear. I think it is only a small, powerful group of weak men who maintain the slave culture.”

I had been cruel. I was having doubts about Gunn’s motives. But I couldn’t see a way out of this, so I did an actor’s shake of my whole body and got back to work. If I thought of him as a local expert, coaching me on a part I had to play in a dangerous location, rather than my owner, the work was easier.

We practiced the hissing first. He said things to me, and I responded with the hissing sound. It took me a while to remember to do it without looking him in the eye.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

I responded with the hissing sound.

“Do it, Vif.” He growled a menacing sound. I looked at him and frowned. We were in the ship’s garden. I was wearing a stretchy jumpsuit. I didn’t want to take it off.

“No!” He shouted. “Do not look me in the eye!”

He was so frustrated that I laughed and looked, dramatically, at his feet. He laughed, too.

“Men are truly the worst,” he admitted. “No culture can survive if they have all the power. Viresi is proof.”

I took off my clothes and stood, naked, looking at the floor, trying to get into my role.

He pulled a tiny piece of fabric from the bag of tricks he’d brought with him and tied it around my waist.

“This is an etek,” he said. The word sounded like a cough. “It is all you will be allowed to wear. This is not Viresi law. This is me telling you that this is the only thing I will allow you to wear.”

It was absurdly tiny. It was less clothing than my sporty underwear.

“If you are the boss,” I asked. “Why not let me wear something that’s not ridiculous and puny?”

I untied it and held it up.

“I want to survive this trip, Vif. Not only because I like living but also because, if I don’t, you won’t have me to protect you on Viresi. And I don’t even want to think about how that will end for you.”

By the end of the week, I was wearing wrist and ankle restraints that I could not remove. Gunn had made them in his shop, and they were pretty, like a solid hammered-gold bracelet with a line through one side that looked like a hinge. But there was no way to open them. He’d told me he could get them off, but I didn’t see how.

erotic science fiction

He used them frequently to bind me – magnetically – to the bed, a table, or the walls. The magnets were powerful. He had a key that activated them. Once he touched one of them to a piece of metal – our ship was made of metal – and waved the key over them, I could not get loose.

He did this to remind me that he could. He did it to, he told me, teach me to submit and give up trying to get free. And he did it to have sex with me. I quickly learned there was no way to get out of them. I once spent hours, my wrist secured to a wall, sitting on the floor, trying everything I could to get free. They did not open, and they were too tight to slide out of. Only after I gave up and fell asleep in that uncomfortable position did he let me free.

I went for days using only the hissing sound Gunn had taught me. At a word or gesture from him, I would stop what I was doing to bend over a piece of furniture or kneel in front of him so he could have me. I did whatever he said without offering resistance. If I protested, even with a sigh or a moment of hesitation, I would find myself bound to a wall, waiting to be set free. Sometimes his orders were silly, testing me. Sometimes they were fun. Sometimes they were humiliating. I wanted to refuse a few of them. I learned not to.

By the end of three weeks, he had added body chains – layers of them around my waist, hips, and neck – to the metal restraints. I was so submissive and silent, I didn’t recognize myself.

But none of it prepared me for going through customs on arrival, the slave auction we attended shortly after, or who Gunn became when we were on his home planet.

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