Lyric's Salvation

Stolen from her home world and given to a man named Vander, Lyric becomes a spanking wench. Kept pure and well-fed as enticement to wealthy men, Elitists take a turn at her with a flogger or paddle, a punishment she’s learned to endure and sometimes even enjoy. Above all, she’s remained a survivor. When a show incites a riot, and Lyric is certain she’ll die, she’s whisked away to safety by her last disciplinarian—a young man who looks nothing like an Elitist.

Troy has one chance to save his father and two young brothers from death in the mines—snatch Vander’s prized spanking whore and hand her over to his biggest competition, another Elitist named Clemens. Yet Lyric is nothing like he expected, she’s beautiful, innocent, and certainly doesn’t deserve the horrible fate Clemens has in store for her. Not to mention the feelings Troy begins to develop for the young woman who will never survive the show Clemens has planned. But handing her over and collecting his pay is the only shot he has at buying his family’s freedom.

Will Troy find a way to save Lyric, or will she become just another casualty of an unforgiving solar system?



Men waited outside, their raucous and foul conversations mixing with the equally coarse odors of sweat and tobacco smoke. Lyric stared into the dim space beyond the platform from behind the heavy brocade curtains shielding her from view. The stage had been hastily thrown together and not entirely stable by the looks of the incomplete welding of the salvaged metal. Erected on the desolate mining moon for the entertainment of the Elitists who formed a mass of fine, brightly colored cloth, with the shaved heads showcasing their social status.

Torches illuminated the stage, making it the brightest thing on the surface of the moon. Even brighter than the planet that glowed a hazy blue on the horizon. A hefty price had been paid for her, and Vander was always happy to oblige an impromptu show.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, if I could have your most coveted and admirable attentions,” Vander shouted, trying to gather control of the intoxicated throng of men. “I’m happy to introduce you to this galaxy’s most beautiful and disciplined ass. Lyric has been well fed, and well trained. Meek, and as you know, kept pure. Because, let’s face it, a woman with her cherry intact is a woman worth knowing. Am I right?”

Laughter and bawdy shouts filled the room in reply. None of the off-color comments meant much to Lyric anymore, she’d heard them and Vander’s speech hundreds of times. Vander spent some more time, building up the crowd, stoking the fire of their lusts until the air thrummed with the energy of eager anticipation. Lyric took long slow breaths, keeping her heart rate down. Despite having had to perform for nearly two years, sour tension always brewed and bubbled inside her, leaving her trembling and anxious. Depending on the crowd’s mood and Vander’s whims, any show could be her last show.

“Now, I present to you, Lyric!” Vander said at last, waving his arm toward the brocade curtains. A slave pulled the drawstring, tugging them open, and suddenly Lyric stood in a pool of artificial light. Rowdy cheers filled the air.

The metal cuffs around Lyrics wrists and ankles weighed her down. She had to be careful not to trip over the chains connecting them, binding and hobbling her, as she staggered forward with head down. All of it was for show since she had no hope for escape. It seemed men particularly liked her helpless, and completely at their mercy. Vander’s slave, Marissa, covered Lyric’s eyes with a satin blindfold then led her further onstage.