Uranus: Solar Mates, #5

By Eva Delaney, Jewels Arthur and Silver Springs Library

I'm Uranus, and I'm the best. Whether it's baseball or boning, there's no way I'm letting anyone else get on top. My game, my rules.

 

Even when my rival sets up shop—backed by mob money—and tries to run me out of business, I know I can kick their ass. Alone. It's not like I'm going to start needing someone now. 

 

Besides, guys are good for one thing only. And you know what that is. Even when a plucky Fae blackjack dealer, a well-dressed possum shifter, and extra-fuzzy plant doctor tug on my heart, I know I can't let them in. 

 

Grab this quirky paranormal romance now, and see how bad-ass dominatrix Uranus hilariously loses her heart.

 

Uranus is a standalone in the Solar Mates Mini Series set in the Silver Springs shared universe and comes complete with a happily-ever-after. Scroll up to read this fun, quirky romance today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eva Delaney
• Release date: Oct 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201100834

Book preview

1

Uranus

For the first time in my life, I want a dick to go limp.

Lovers never last long enough, always freeing their cock juice before I’m done. So annoying. As for clients, I charge by the hour. The longer they want to stick around, the better for my bank account. Less annoying.

But ol’ Andy here has been standing at attention for so long, it’s just ridiculous.

He kneels on the dungeon floor, blindfolded, with his arms bound behind him. Leaning forward, he licks the bottom of my thigh-high boot like a good little pet.

I’ve had him tied up in a half dozen positions over the last four hours, and still, his cock is hard. It’s good money, but I am bored out of my mind.

He must have taken a couple of Viagras before our session, even though it’s strictly against my rules. Sure, inhumanly long-lasting hard-ons mean more money, but it’s not worth it to have to call an ambulance because of a dangerously long-lasting woody or a heart problem from said dangerously long-lasting woody. An ambulance showing up at my dungeon would be bad for business, even if it is because of a dude with his penis ambition and not from anything I have done.

It never would be from anything I did, though. I pride myself on my high safety standards and clear contracts about what is and isn’t allowed during each session.

Andy moans as he licks my shoe. I only wish to please you, Mistress.

Well, you aren’t pleasing me, little slave, I growl, pushing his face away from my boot.

I eye his cock impatiently. It stands hard but doesn't twitch; the tip remains dry of pre-cum. Fuck this dude. He had asked for humiliation, but it isn’t getting him any closer to blowing his load. Maybe it just isn’t enough. I have a rule with clients—no penetration and limited genital touching—so I can’t just rub him off and be done with him.

Sigh.

I’ve been bad, Mistress. He groans, struggling against the binds. So bad.

Ah, maybe he’s after punishment rather than humiliation. Clients don’t always know their kink when they arrive or are too embarrassed to talk about it.

He didn’t check off punishment as a no-go on our pre-session agreement, so I will test it out and see how he reacts. Of course, he has his safe word if anything goes too far.

I lean forward and grab his beard roughly. What did you do, you naughty boy? I growl in his face, letting him feel my breath on his lips.

He trembles, and I glance down to see his cock twitch.

Ah. He does have a punishment kink.

I… I broke the rule, he stutters, thrusting his cock upwards to find only air.

I think I know which one he broke, too, the lying dickweed. Oh, he’d probably like that. What rule did you break, you lying dickweed?

He moans out loudly. The muscles in his arms tighten as he pulls against the binds.

Tell me, you little bitch boy.

He bites his lip and tries to shake his head, but I only hold his chin tighter, digging my nails into his skin. He shudders.

Okay, he wants pain then too. Maybe he’s one of those clients who gets off on making me guess their kink, fucking around with them until I figure it out, or until they break and reveal what they truly want from me.

Mercy, Mistress.

I laugh humorlessly. The crack of my voice interrupts his whimpers.

Fuck that, I snap, grabbing the back of his head and pushing him down to the floor. It forces his ass up into the air. It’s not a bad ass, even if it is an annoying one.

My heels click on the concrete ground as I stroll over to my cabinet of toys. He groans, holding the position, waiting for me.

I yawn. Thankfully, he likes blindfolds, so he doesn’t see it. This client work is becoming such a chore. It’s not as exciting as it was when I started. Maybe I just need some dudes who aren't so predictable. Everyone who comes to me now wants the exact same things in some combination. I need some variety. Something… hell, anything.

Picking up a flogger, I stroll back to Andy and slap the straps across his bare ass. He flinches on the ground and gasps. I wait, watching and listening.

Did he say the safe word? Is he showing signs of distress?

I’ve been a naughty, naughty bitch, Mistress.

Definitely into pain, then. Hopefully, this will blow his junk and end this tedious session. Raising my arm, I spank him again and again until my hand stings. I watch his reactions with each smack, pleased by each of the shudders and moans.

Almost there.

Tell me what you did, I demand, my voice leaving no room for defiance.

It’s common for clients to use a session as a way of unburdening themselves of some guilt. I mean, I know more secrets than Screech. But I suspect this ass’s bad behavior isn’t related to something outside my dungeon.

I spank him again, turning his pale ass red with my handprints. Who owns this ass?

You do, Mistress!

And who owns your cock?

You do!

What did you do? I demand again, reaching back to grab the flogger and swipe it back down on his sore ass.

I… I… I took a penis potion.

Bingo.

I growl audibly to show my displeasure. I told you not to do that. I don’t deal with scum who take potions.

I… I’m sorry! he stutters.

He isn’t. He did this just to make me punish him for it, and he didn’t even have the decency or self-awareness to be open about it from the start. Well, this is the last time he’ll be my client.

I went to the sex witch and got a cream.

Juniper’s patented, long-lasting cock cream, I’m sure. Luckily, it’s safer than Viagra—less likely to land an older guy like this in the hospital—not so luckily, it’s longer-lasting too. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Even with the sex toy curse a couple of months ago, I still buy all my supplies from The Magical Rooster. You just can’t get better toys anywhere else.

Dropping the flogger, I knot my hand in his hair and yank him up to his knees. Gasping, his cock is damp with pre-cum. Finally.

Punish me, Mistress, he groans. Please, I've failed you.

Yeah, you fucking have. I swallow the anger like a dry cock being shoved into an asshole. He has broken one of my rules, but I should never take out my anger on a client. It is a risky thing to be angry when you have this much power over someone else.

Even if they deserved the anger.

Hurt me, he begs.

Even as my annoyance flares, I take a deep breath and attempt to calm myself.

Time to end this boring, enraging dickfest. If he wants pain, I will provide it.

I grab a spray bottle and spritz my arms and upper body, then his cock. He moans as though it is one of Juniper’s orgasm tonics and not just plain water. Now damp, I shift.

Not entirely.

If I did, I’d be squirming on the ground like one of my clients. So instead, I only half-shift, turning my upper body into an electric eel. I flop over at my waist to hang like a ginormous cock against my thigh-high boots. Hopefully, this is how his cock will look when I am finished with him.

Flaccid and limp.

This means that I can stare either directly at the floor, or if I lift my head, at Andy’s dick. Neither is very appealing.

I choose to look at the floor.

The electricity builds up in me like a pressure headache, radiating throughout my body. I let some of it go quickly before it becomes a significant, dangerous shock. A light touch is all that is needed here. Just a tiny zap. Some clients can handle a full shock, but I don’t know if Andy’s old heart can take it.

A bolt of electricity arches from me to Andy’s penis, making a loud cracking sound in the air.

I shift back and watch Andy cry out. His back arches, his body trembles, and his legs quiver. He tumbles to his side on the ground. And through it all, finally, spunk hits my floor with a moist splat.

Slowly, I sit next to him so I can uncuff his hands and remove the blindfold. He huffs for breath, and despite my anger, I hold his hand and let him squeeze mine hard while the orgasm and sub mind space fade.

Sometimes they are okay after coming; other times, they are ashamed and want nothing more than to flee from the dungeon.

He rolls over onto his back and gazes up at me with a smile. A cocky, unembarrassed smile. You’re amazing.

You broke one of my rules, I say sternly, frowning deeply.

It's just a game, he says lightly with a shrug, his eyes bright with humor.

"No, it’s fucking not. This is as much about boundaries and safety as it is about humiliation and power. You ignored a boundary. My boundary."

Lighten up, it's all for fun, he says, sitting up.

I drop his hand, even though aftercare is an integral part of any scene.

You weren’t clear about what you wanted, and you crossed one of my boundaries. Once you can walk again, I’ll run your credit card, and you can get out. You won’t be booking another session.

His smile fades, and his eyes darken. I came all the way from New York City to see you. You were highly recommended.

"I am highly recommended because I prize communication, safety, and respect. You obviously don’t."

He glares at me with a frown. You need my money.

I laugh in his face. You have nothing I need, and never will. Plenty of men who are better than you are lined up for my services. I’m doing you a favor by letting you pay me to beat your ass.

He opens his mouth, and I’m confident he is about to call me a bitch, so I just glare at him, hands on my hips in defiance until he closes his mouth and says nothing.

Because I’m a professional, I help him up and rub healing lotion on his ass, though I leave him to rub it on his own dick. Once he is dressed, I run the credit card through the reader attached to my phone and see him out.

I’m going to leave you a bad review, he huffs.

You do that. Post online that you’re a whiny little bitch, and good luck finding another Mistress. Because we leave reviews too, buddy, I tell him snidely as I slam the door in his face.

Sighing, I turn back to the dungeon. Maybe I’ll head to the casino and find a new client. There are enough regulars to pay the bills, but I am really bored of the same old thing. Maybe a new guy will spice shit up. If not, I could always see Cannon at the casino. The thought of that makes my heart flutter like a flogger waving back and forth before the strike.

Fluttering heart. Gross.

2

Cannon

Working in an illegal casino definitely calls to my mischievous side. I mean, not all fae are mischievous. That is just a hurtful stereotype. I just happen to be that way. It’s in my nature to walk on the side of danger, of risk. The fact that this illegal casino is in a spa is only an added benefit.

What screams fae more than plants and water features? A little trouble and a little natural oxygen, hallelujah.

Plus, it helps block out the old-people smell from up above. Not heaven—though I definitely need to use that joke—but the Silver Oaks Retirement Home that our lovely, not so legal, casino is in the basement of.

Shuffling cards, I pause when I notice trouble walking into the room looking annoyed, although it’s almost a permanent fixture on her face. She always looks annoyed and grumpy. It’s hot as fuck. Even her stomach tattoo of a possum wearing a top hat and a monocle doesn’t reduce her sexiness.

Hello, my lovely anus, I say to her.

She rolls her eyes and slumps into one of the tall barstools at my table.

That’s not my name, fairy boy, she growls. Her lip curls a bit as she shows her teeth.

Meow.

"Oh right, sorry, Mistress. How is work?" I ask.

Her bared shoulders lift in a noncommittal shrug. Boring. She looks around the room intently. This guy could barely take my lowest shock, and he took forever to cum. Plus, he broke one of my rules. The prick is lucky I didn’t break his dick.

Maybe you weren’t delivering the business well enough, Uranus, I tease, grinning widely as her eyes darken. Curiosity springs to life in my chest over the broken rule, but I don't ask. I try to keep talk about her work light. It’s not precisely a tell-all kind of job, and I want to respect that.

"I always deliver, and my deliveries are superb, Uranus states with pursed lips, eyes still moving around the room. Looking for her next meal, I assume. This dickhead used some of Juniper’s magical hard-on cream, though. Made for a helluva long session, and I won’t be seeing that shriveled asshole again."

He made it out alive? I ask, pushing cards towards the couple that sits down opposite of me. The man frowns, eyeing the cards like they have done him wrong, whereas his woman just chomps her gum loudly while giving me fuck me eyes.

Sadly, yes, Uranus replies, turning to scan the room again.

Hit me, the man says, tapping his fingers on the felt table. I flip a card over in front of him, and he sighs.

Hit me, the man says again, his lips forming a tight frown.

You are gonna fuck it up, the woman says, pushing against the man’s shoulder.

Chill, Barb. I got this, he growls, fingers gently grazing the felt.

I flip the next card over and watch the man’s face fall.

Busted! Barb yells, pushing the man’s money towards me with a loud cackle.

The man stands with a growl, pulling the woman with him. She gives me a coy wink before she is dragged away. When I grab the money, I see a small slip of paper tangled in it. Barb must have slipped it in before she left.

Call me, hunk.

The writing is messy, and the phone number is just barely legible. I crumple the paper up, throwing it in the bin behind me. Uranus eyes me with a small knowing smile.

She seems fun.

She seems like a handful, I say, leaning on the table toward Uranus. She has a way of drawing me in, as though I’m the Voyager 2 spacecraft.

I never see you date, Cannon. Why are you playing hard to get? I’m sure you could get any of the ladies down here, she tells me, her eyes still moving around the room.

You know I am saving myself for you, Ray, I say with a cocky smile.

She mocks gagging at my flirting, and I chuckle.

Leaning toward her, I point to a man on the heavier side with bright orange curly hair. "Him, over there. Pluto has been scouting him out. I hear he has a lot of money to throw around if he can find the right mommy."

Her pupils dilate, and her eyes widen as she straightens. She turns to take in the appearance of the man. I can practically see the dollar signs flash in her eyes.

Oh, really?

Mmhmm, I say, shuffling the cards in my hand. I can’t imagine her touching that guy in a million years; but hey, money is money, even if the thought makes me squeeze the cards a little too hard.

Where is Pluto tonight? Uranus raises her eyebrows as she questions me about her most hated rival.

The two are practically testes in a scrot. I mean, they even have the same profession. But that is where their hatred for each other spurs