Disclaimer: If I owned DBZ I wouldn't share, but I do fantasize about Vegeta, which apparently I have no problem sharing.

Hey Everyone!

Ever wonder where I got the idea for Fixation or why I ended Lab Monkey the way I did? Want to know if I'm going to post a third story for Free My Heart. Do you want to know what I think about the Vegeta and Bulma craze or just fanfiction in general? Here's your chance. This Sunday at 5pm PST I'll be appearing in a live podcast hosted by Mallie3 and MayMayB from the google plus Just Saiyan community. You can ask me questions by joining the community and posting questions on the forum that will be asked during the podcast. The link is on my profile. I hope to see you all there so we can chat!


WARNING: Pointless lemon with meaningless plot. Oh yah. That would be a PWP. Sex that goes nowhere. Isn't that the best kind? BTW this is a masturbation fic. That means no touchy by the other person. At least not until later on.

For Evanscent, because she loves it when a too smart for her own good Bulma tries to control the evil, dominating princeā€¦and fails.


A/N: Some of you may recognize this from media miner. Every once in a while when I get the urge to write a new B/V I'll go back and read my older work to get into the mood. *wink* I try to look at the work with a critical eye and revamp it as I've done here. I hope you enjoy.

Master of Desire, Slave to Lust

Chapter One

Bulma had a lot of stress in her life. She was always on top. On top of business, in the top of her class, the top beauty, and always on top of her man. That was why when Yamcha had been wished home a year ago they never got back together. She had gotten tired of his cringing and he couldn't stand to be bossed around anymore. It was just as well, it gave her the time she needed to concentrate on her job at Capsule Corp. If one wanted to stay on top, then you had to work at it day and night, the weak dare not apply.

Because she had so much stress, Bulma enjoyed certain routines, her favorite being the one right before she went to bed. It allowed her the time she needed to unwind and relax after a day at the office. Her parents knew that when her door closed at precisely ten o'clock that she was not to be disturbed unless the building was burning down and even that was negotiable since the firewalls prevented flames from spreading.

On warm nights the first thing she did was cross her lavish bedroom, her toes curling in the thick cream carpet, to her west wall which was nothing more than a bank of glass doors leading out to the balcony. In the summer months her room became a sauna as the setting sun shone painted her room in fire before sinking below the horizon. Even though she could run the air conditioner to cool it down she preferred to open the French doors, allowing the evening breeze to blow out the stuffy air.

She would take her nightgown and her favorite jade green silk robe with her as she disappeared into her adjoining bathroom that was nearly as big as her bedroom. She would drop her day clothes down the laundry chute for the maid, sighing with relief as she took off her torture contraption called a bra. She would slip into her silky night things before washing her face with her sea salt scrub imported from the Aegean Sea. It cost her more money than it was worth, but that wasn't really the point.

Her face glowing and freshly scrubbed she would step back out into her bedroom and cross to her Victorian vanity handcrafted from rosewood to her specifications to hold her many cosmetics and creams. She ran the paddle bush through her hair that was specially created to disperse the oils from her scalp down the strands of her hair to the ends to prevent any breakage. After she passed the brush through her hair no less than a thousand times she would uncap her night cream that was guaranteed to prevent unseemly wrinkles that came with age, smoothing it on with long time ease. Bulma was a creature of refinement and luxury. It was all apart of the importance of the same ritual she had performing since she was ten and her mother sat her down and advised her that it was never too soon to preserve your beauty.

After an hour in front of the mirror she would turn her face from side to side, checking to make sure that her cream really was working before getting up and walking over to her massive silk draped bed to pull down the comforter. She would snap her fingers sharply to turn off the lights, placing her robe at the end of the bed while the room was dark before getting under the covers and falling into a dreamless sleep. In the morning, the screech of the alarm clock would wake her up to start all over again.

At some point she realized that something changed in her ritual. As she sat at her vanity she became aware that the night air was unnaturally silent. Her cool sapphire gaze drifted towards the balcony as she looked out into the star studded night. Her human eyes could not peer beyond the pool of light on the marble steps and she had to stand up to go outside to see more. She gracefully glided up to the balustrade, bracing her palms on the cool white marble.

She listened carefully, but there was not a sound, it seemed as if even the breeze stilled. Normally she would hear the comforting warble of the painted snipe, but this evening there was only deep silence. The kind that heralds a predator in the area, something she knew could not be true here in the heart of West City. She glanced down at the shadowy outline of the Gravity Room noting with little concern that it was shut down for the evening.

She shrugged her narrow shoulders, still sheathed in her jade robe and turned to go back inside. She sat down at the vanity picking up her expensive hand lotion and salved it on. She went to bed, unconcerned of the warning the night animals were trying to give her and fell into her usual slumber.

The next day she noticed the same phenomenon when she emerged from her bathroom, clad in her robe. The doors were ajar and the animals were again quietly hiding in their holes. She ignored it and sat down at her vanity, her mind wandering back and forth from the different projects she had going on at work.

Suddenly, with crystal clarity, an epiphany struck her. There was a predator outside, an evil beast that was watching her as she sat unafraid at her vanity.

Her hard gem colored eyes flashed in the lamp light as her narrowed gaze centered on the darkness beyond her door. She felt the pulse in her neck jump and her heart increased a pace or two but her outward appearance remained immobile and calm. She dismissed the darkness and the predator just outside the reach of the light, turning back to pick up her face cream. As she smoothed it on her perfect porcelain features, she thought over her new revelation and just what exactly she was going to do about it.

To her own surprise, her usually clear and logical mind already knew what she was going to do. Nothing. She would say nothing, do nothing and change nothing.

She stood up from the vanity, crossing over to her bed. She snapped her fingers and her room was flooded with the darkness from outside. Without fear she slipped the robe from her shoulders like she did every night, crawling under the covers and turning on her side.

Let Vegeta watch. It did not concern her. He changed nothing. She fell asleep with those thoughts solidly in her mind, but for the first time in months she dreamed of something other that money and inventions. She dreamed of sweat and flesh, of taste and sound. She dreamed of a man.

The weeks wore on, still Vegeta watched and Bulma ignored him. It became a routine and Bulma was comfortable with that, but then she began to think as she sat in front of her vanity. Think about the prince and his strange ways, his dark penetrating gaze and his rude demeanor. She thought about the special attention that he paid her and how she reciprocated in her own way.

He ignored her parents with the stoicism of a true warrior, a great feat indeed when it came to her bubbly mother who wanted only to feed and pet him like he was a new animal for her menagerie. He paid no mind to the occasional Z fighter that stopped by and far as she knew he didn't even see Goku. She suspected that he had no desire to meet his rival and have his own power assessed. A strategist to the core, she was certain that he more than likely spied on her best friends while remaining unseen.

She had never met a man like him before. Confident to a fault, he took no quarter from his enemies and gave none in return. His need to control his environment, every little thing around him, fascinated and repulsed her. She watched his every move when she could, studying his mastery of any situation, while trying her hardest to avoid allowing him even the smallest amount of persuasion over her. He was so strong, so completely feral, but he was tamed by reason that she could not comprehend. He did nothing without assessing the consequence. His very manner, the way he walked, the way he moved was precise, without a wasted moment of inaction.

He drifted through their house utterly silent, a guest without substance. He refused the room they offered, instead preferring the one in the training pod. He took only food from them as he felt it was his right to do so. The only other demand he made was the upkeep to his Gravity Room and nothing more. Otherwise he did not acknowledge their presence.

But for her he spoke.

One word demands and cutting insults. And whenever they were alone together he would drop the one word on her that was sure to throw her into a queen sized rage. Slave. He would call her. He would always whisper the word endearingly into her ear, being sure that no one else could hear.

How dare he? She was no man's slave. She was Bulma Briefs. The cream at the top. The best of the best. A princess in her own right.

She fought his control at every turn and yet he still watched her. She struggled to maintain her nightly ceremony without interruption. To show him that he could not best her. She would not change her routine for him. But then sinuous thoughts began to wind themselves around her brain, teasing her with ideas that were so innocent at first, but they only led down the path of shadows.

He taunted her with his presence nightly outside her window, but only she controlled what he saw. Something dark took seed inside her thoughts as she sought to gain the upper hand. She was a beautiful woman and for all of his control he was just a man. How she would laugh if she could lure him to her only to throw his advances back in his face. The arrogant Prince of All Saiyans needed to have his ego crushed. He needed to realize that the only slave around here was him. Soon he was going to be a slave to his own lust, compliments of a devious Bulma Briefs.

She started slowly, changing her routine subtly so he wouldn't notice right away. Instead of exiting her bathroom with her silk jade robe, she wore only a pale yellow nightgown. It was less racy than some of her evening wear, falling to just above her knee, with thin straps over her shoulders, leaving her back partially bare. She sat at her vanity, brushing her hair changing nothing else in her routine.

The next day she stealthily tried to gage Vegeta's reaction, but he behaved as if nothing was different and they went their separate ways. This went on for some weeks, her nightgowns became more and more revealing, until finally after careful brain wracking consideration she decided on the next step. Instead of taking her clothes with her to the bathroom, she changed in the full light of her bedroom. She stood with her back to the balcony as she stripped off her business suit and stuffed it down the chute before casually walking over to her dresser to pull out a red teddy that was almost indecent. She retreated to the bathroom to wash her face, the entire time her body tense.

She released a hidden sigh of relief when she exited and the now strangely comforting silence still echoed outside. He hadn't left. But he hadn't approached her yet either. He was still in the shadows, watching her from afar. Her lure wasn't enough of a temptation yet.

Her ritual at night became a strip tease that served to arouse her unlike anything she had ever experience before. She was no virgin and she had been with other men besides Yamcha, but she never felt this amount of excitement. As she let her clothes fall to the floor she would imagine Vegeta sitting outside, just beyond the pool of light, his dark, emotionless eyes flaming with desire. With her eyes closed, her hands would trail down her body to unzip her skirt and behind her lids she would see visions of Vegeta's hand stroking down his own hard body to cup the arousal that she had invoked in the palm of his hand.

By the evenings end she would fall into her bed, tossing and turning for an hour before finally falling asleep. The hot burn of lust between her legs nearly drove her mad, but she dared not assuage her needs since the night her bedroom had become a stage.

Always in the morning she would peer closely at Vegeta from behind her newspaper, looking for subtle changes in him, but seeing nothing. His black eyes did not linger over long on her, nor did he touch her.

That was the source of her truest frustration. She had never noticed until now that he never of his free will touched her. She had brushed up innocently against him many times, but he never deigned to lay a hand on her. Even when he was leaning close to whisper his one word slur in her ear, only the heat of his body and his breath touched her, never his flesh.

She had taken to going to his Gravity Room dressed in her greasy gray overalls, which was not entirely out of place. However, what only Bulma knew was that she wore nothing underneath. The course fabric dragged at her sensitive skin, so no matter how hard she concentrated on fixing his ship, she never forgot that she was just a zip and shrug away from being naked. She lowered the zipper between her breasts, teasing the prince with a glance of the treasures revealed to him each night. She would enter his sacred space repair the damages that he wrought with his violent training, before slipping away without a word of exchange.

Whenever she entered his domain he would watch her with unsettling intensity. His brooding eyes cataloged her every move as though he didn't trust her. He would fold his arms across his chest, his body immobile and his face set in stone. Only his eyes moved as they trailed after her as she flitted from one console to another.

Then one night Bulma just snapped. She had been locked in a room with most of the Capsule Corp board members for nearly ten hours as they rehashed the next fiscal year's budget. Her stress level had reached its max and more than once she had thrown one of her famous Bulma Briefs tantrums that made most people quake in their boots. By the time she had returned home it was well past her normal ten o'clock hour and that only increased her anxiety. She had missed their scheduled time together.

She entered her room in a distressed frazzle. She rushed across the thick Persian carpet, throwing open the balcony doors and stepping outside. She lifted her face to the night air, allowing the moon to drench her in its rays. She held her breath listening for the slightest noise and hearing nothing. She exhaled loudly, opening her sapphire eyes to scan the area. She could see nothing, but she knew he was there, waiting for her to return.

She retreated to her room, her domain, stripping off her clothes as she went. The last item of clothing drifted to the ground as she reached the center of her room and she paused with her back still to the door.

Her long teal hair was pinned up in a business coif and with intimate slowness she reached up to pull out the pins. Strands of hair spilled out of the twist, coiling at the ends and trailing down the pale expanse of her back. She loved the tease, she loved the control.

When all of the pins had been dropped to the floor she turned to face the bank of open doors. She furrowed her fingers through her long blue hair, drawing her head back to expose the pale length of her throat as she massaged her scalp. Her round breasts were thrust out, her pink nipples hard with arousal as she posed for the man who stood in the dark. The skin pulled tight over her ribs, accentuating her tight waist and flat midriff before flaring out into delicate hips. She was beautiful and she knew it. After so many years of hearing it, seeing it, saying it, then it could only be true.

Her eyes drifted closed so she could better imagine the prince who waited outside. He must be lusting after her, hardened and heavy, inflamed by the sight of her. How could he not be? She trailed her fingertips down the length of her neck, gliding over her collarbone to cup her generous breast. At her touch, soft tingles of sensation skittered down her spine, hardening her nipple painfully.

Her other hand trailed down to join its mate and the erotic due chased away all of her stress, her fear and logical thought as she concentrated on the pleasure she was giving herself. Sightlessly she walked over to her bed, falling back, while her legs still hung over the edge. One hand skimmed down her stomach, past her manicured nest of curls to her center of sensation.

She was already wet and her body writhed under her touch as she teased herself. She didn't need a fantasy to coax her flames of desire to life. All she needed was the image of Vegeta standing in the darkness watching her as she pleasured herself.

She wondered as her hand found its way between her legs if his was doing the same. Was his large fist curled around this thick, hard erection? Had he pulled it out from his pants to feel the night air as he pumped in and out of his hand? He would be huge she knew. Her fantasy would not allow him to be any other way.

She squeezed her breast, pinching her nipple as she imagined his strong white teeth nipping at the crowning flesh. Her fingers teased her swollen cleft until she was slick with excitement. Her feet found their way up to the edge of the bed, her knees bent and her body arching.

Was he edging closer to the light? Did he wish that he was between her thighs, his heavy weight pushing her down on the bed while her legs wound around his narrow hips? Her fingers slid past her cleft, finding their way into her. She was hot and wet and she could feel her muscles clenching around her. Was he fucking himself right now with his hand, wishing that his hard cock was inside of her?

Behind her eyelids the images danced and Bulma couldn't stop the soft moans of pleasure that escaped her lips. She could feel his weight on her as he thrust inside of her, stretching her to the limit. Most importantly, in her fantasy he was touching her. His strong hands were sliding over her pale skin, caressing her delicate flesh, teasing her to new heights of pleasure.

With that image burned into her brain she came on her hand, her body bowing off the bed as she let out a satisfied cry of bliss. Her eyes rolled back in her head and the bright lamp light shattered into a thousand fragments behind her lids. The waves crashed on top of her, until finally slowing to soft ebb. Her body throbbed and pulsed with the after effects of her orgasm and she had to take a few minutes to compose herself.

As she laid there, her body sated, a mortifying heat crept up her frame. She had meant to tease the prince with what he couldn't have but instead she had given into her lust and pleasured herself while he watched. The entire point was to turn him away if he approached her, but now after such a detailed fantasy of the bliss he could give her she didn't know if she would. She just might take him up on the offer and that scared her. It scared her because she knew that she wouldn't be the one in control if they went to bed together.

She snapped her fingers, not daring to look into the night as the darkness descended on the room. She wrapped the covers around her, finding solace in her silk sheets and the night that made her invisible. She fell into a relaxed slumber never realizing that the predator just outside her open door could see with daylight clarity under the cover of darkness.