One hundred years ago, almost no one had heard of the mineral called paeolate. Intersolar travel had been a reality for a long time, but the thick heavy hulls that kept ships from burning up in a planet's atmosphere during takeoff and landing took so much fuel to escape gravity that casual travel and the movement of goods from planet to planet was prohibitively expensive. Then someone had the bright idea of taking this abundant mineral, found only on Midros, and mixing it with a few other things, and painting it on the outer hulls of ships. Suddenly they wouldn't burn up any more. Overnight, hulls became incredibly thin and lightweight, and much less expensive to operate. Trade between planets exploded with a pent-up fury. And private individuals with money could buy their own ships.
This planet – this formerly modest, quiet planet with its simple way of life – was suddenly the richest planet in the known universe.
James pushed aside the sheer curtain and looked down. The middle of the grassy area held a small stage that was usually empty except for the occasional lunch-eating businessman seated upon its steps, enjoying the sunshine. Today, however, there was a large crowd of several hundred women gathered on all four sides, looking expectantly at the platform, where a pole had been erected in the middle. The women were all kneeling, and the angle of the sun reflected the silver around the neck of every single one of them.
Midros was the only planet in the known interstellar community that still had slavery. When paeolate money had started rolling in, the owners of the large mining conglomerates, flush with cash and sudden power, built their vision of a perfect society that placed them at the top. Employment, education, and even the ability to marry and have children became attainments available only to those who agreed with the new government. Protests were few, and ruthlessly put down. Within fifty years, women, whose equality had been tenuous before paeolate, lost everything. Midros told nosy outsiders to go away or the paeolate would disappear, and the greedy interstellar community left them alone.
James started to turn to Raym to ask what this gathering of slaves was when he caught sight of a woman being escorted through a path in the crowd, towards the platform. She wore a loose white shift along with her shiny silver collar, and her arms were bound in front of her. As he watched, she was placed facing the pole. Her hands were raised high above her head and secured so that she stood on her tiptoes. Her shift was pulled away, leaving her bared to the crowd. A man stepped forward, said a few words James couldn't hear, and then positioned himself beside her. Without hesitation, he drew back something whip-like and snapped it forward to land on the woman's back.
The scream that came through the window knocked him backwards. "What the fuck!" He turned to
Raym, still sprawled on the rumpled covers. "What the fuck are they doing?"
Raym shrugged. "It's Punishment Day." His eyes never left the computer screen.
"What the fuck is Punishment Day?"
Raym's reply was cut short by another scream. James turned back to the window. He stared at the scene. Even from up here, he could see the bright red blotches across the formerly white skin. That was no ordinary whip; this one left wide marks on the skin, not thin stripes. And this was definitely no ordinary punishment.
This was a judicial punishment, designed for maximum pain that would be felt for days to come.
He ignored the twitching of his cock.
"Every two weeks," Raym finally looked up, "all the slaves in the city who've broken major rules, or whose masters are too lazy to punish them at home, are sent here. Every slave is required to attend at least once a month. Sometimes it's over in just an hour, and sometimes it's longer. Just depends." He turned back to the screen.
"What kind of rules deserve this kind of punishment?" He was still mesmerized as a third scream rose up to disappear into the deep blue sky.
"Oh, about what you'd expect. Running away, fighting back, disrespect of a master in public, getting caught with a man who isn't her master, touching books written in Br'ini... I don't know. There's lots." He shrugged again.
Now James did turn to look at him, managing not to flinch from yet another scream. "Touching books written in Br'ini?"
"Didn't you have the mandatory orientation on the ship before you arrived?"
James scowled. "I was too busy studying. I skipped it."
"You really shouldn't have."
"So educate me now," James snapped in irritation.
Raym sighed. "Okay," he began as though James was a little child, "we used to all speak Eluiim, before we became modern, and now everyone also knows the Basic that all the planets speak. But most of our literature, law, and documents are written in Br'ini, an ancient language that women are forbidden to learn. Even holding or opening a book in Br'ini is grounds for a severe public punishment. And the punishment for learning to read Br'ini in secret is... well, let's just say it's not pretty. Maybe a little too much, in my opinion, but that's the law, and what can you do?" He shrugged once more.
James looked at him with an open mouth. "Why?"
"Because reading what men think and write gives women ideas that aren't healthy for them. They're happier when their world is predictable and limited."
"You can't be serious."
"James, don't make me regret that I asked you here. This is our way of life; it has been for a long time, and we don't tolerate criticism." The dark tone in his voice was unusual for the normally-cheerful young man.
James turned back to the window. The whipping hadn't ceased, but the screaming had. The woman sagged in her bonds, no longer struggling as the last strokes were laid upon her back. Her skin was bright red, almost like it had been burned, from her shoulders to the middle of her back, and then again over the soft fleshiness of her ass. James didn't fail to note that they'd skipped the vulnerable part of her lower back over her kidneys. At least this guy knew what he was doing. Her escorts reappeared and released her hands, one of them catching her as she fell. They dragged her off the stage and disappeared into a building.
James continued to stare down, both horrified and mesmerized. Another woman appeared with two escorts, but she wasn't as docile. She protested and fought the whole way to the stage. She, too, wore a white shift, but she had a black collar on, marking her as a visitor from off-world. Women who visited Midros, even professionals, still had to register as slaves, wear a collar, and observe most of the rules of behavior while on the streets. Most never strayed outside the "safe zone" of the hotel, a place where their behavior was only loosely monitored.
Raym joined him at the window. He chuckled. "Oh, I heard about her. This ought to be good." James looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"There was a reception last night at some government official's house. She and the Minister of Energy were having quite a nice conversation about hydroelectric plants, and then apparently he turned to her master and commented that she had lovely breasts and would her master mind if he fondled them? Everyone understands that most off-world masters say no, and that's the end of it. She didn't give him a chance. She threw her drink in the Minister's face."
James' eyes widened as he imagined the fallout from that incident. He looked back down at the scene below. She was still struggling even as her hands were restrained high above. This time the punisher took up a cane. He swung the thin rod to land on her soft backside. James couldn't hear the sound of it landing, but he saw how deep a dent it briefly made, and a moment later, he heard her scream. Her struggles became even more wild, and her outrage louder.
He'd had enough. "Let's head down to the Archives and stay there for a while. I'm not sure I'll be able to focus up here if this goes on all day." I'm not sure I'll be able to tear my eyes away from the window if naked young women are punished where I can watch with both fascination and horror.
Find it here: Memories of Surrender: Midrosian Chronicles Book 1
Also by Sophie Kisker
Fear and Desire
The Punishment Tour
(FREE with newsletter signup)
Revenge Served Hot
Finding Home: An Erotic Tale of Slavery, Love, and War
Odyssey
Sanctuary
Refining Fire
Midrosian Slave Chronicles:
Memories of Surrender
Longings of Surrender
Tears of Surrender
Nectar for the Gods
Claimed
Owned
Saved
Given
Complete Box Set
Surrendered Brides short stories
And He Shall Rule Over Her
Tribute: Captives of Kazir Page 20
