Judgment 2: Mercy

by Hall, Denise

  When the doctor finally arrived, he did not come alone. Tane came with him, followed by what was probably every master within Judgment. There were more than twenty, all dressed much like Master Boyden, the stark black of their uniforms broken only by a silver insignia where a right breast pocket might otherwise have been. All were somber and unsmiling, and most stared directly at her with dark stares that made her very nervous.

  This was what she’d wanted, Mary reminded herself. But she clutched the towel tightly around herself and shivered nonetheless.

  “This is the last time you are going to hear English while you are here,” Tane told her. “But the time we spend waiting for our words to be translated to you is time spent out of the Pit and away from our duties. Product, by their very nature, are not as quick to obey the guards as the masters.”

  “Should we wait for Shipe?” the Master Doctor asked, donning a long white lab coat over his black uniform and reaching for a pair of plastic gloves.

  “No,” Tane said. “He is supervising the Personals.”

  “All right then.” The Master Doctor handed a clipboard and paper to Master Boyden. “Would you keep the log?”

  “Of course.” And to her, Boyden then said, “Drop the towel.”

  Reluctantly, Mary let her damp wrap slide down her body and she stepped free from the folds. Up until tonight, Richard had been the only man to ever see her unclothed. Now she had the eyes of over twenty men watching her every movement. She kept her own downcast and tried not to think about it.

  “We’ll begin over here.” The Master Doctor led her to the scale. He checked her height first. “Five-foot-five-and-a-half inches. One-hundred-twenty-seven pounds.”

  And Boyden documented both.

  Then she was moved to the lab station, where the Master Doctor prepared to draw her blood. Mary offered up her arm willingly, but turned her head aside and closed her eyes when she felt the tip of the needle prick her skin.

  Across the room, one of the masters asked, “Is someone going to tell us why we’re all here? She seems rather well-behaved to me. And surely one troublesome little female doesn’t require all of us?”

  “Blonde isn’t troublesome at all,” Tane said. “I asked you here because she is not Product. I don’t want her mistakenly taken to the Pit or fraternizing freely with the rest of the Lessers. There will be confusion enough as it is until I work out how she should be treated.”

  “She’s not Product?” asked a golden-haired master. Leaning back against a counter, he ran a hand over his mustache and neatly-trimmed goatee as he studied her. “Where are we going to bed her?”

  “Smith doesn’t have anyone in his barracks right now,” another suggested.

  But hand on his lean hips, Master Smith raised his slightly gray head and said, “True, but if we get a New-Comer with a decent singing voice in the next batch, then we’ll only have to move Blonde somewhere else. In my experience, it’s not good for females to be shuffled back and forth from master to master.”

  “Agreed,” Tane said. “Masters Shipe and Cobb have no assigned barracks, so one of them can be prevailed upon to take her when her time with Boyden is up.”

  Beside him, another master said, “If she’s not a Lesser, and I’m assuming that she’s not a Personal—” The man tipped his head slightly to one side, as though asking for clarification. “—then what is she?”

  Tane looked to his brother. “What do you think: an experiment?” he asked. “A volunteer, maybe?”

  Master Deaton shrugged with his eyebrows. “She sounds like a volunteer to me.”

  “Blonde has paid us for the privilege of being trained,” Tane said.

  There was a moment of dead silence among the gathered masters, then someone started to laugh and the others quickly followed suit.

  Cheeks burning, the object of their amusement kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

  “How much did she pay?” asked one of the younger masters.

  “A hell of a lot,” Tane told him.

  “Maybe we should alter our profession.”

  Master Deaton nudged his brother’s elbow. “Told you.”

  “If we didn’t run the risk of contaminating the rest of the Product, I might consider it,” Tane said. “In the meantime, I am going to create a position just for Blonde. Something below both Personals and Product. I was thinking we could put her to work maintaining and organizing the Common Library.”

  “She would be in direct contact with the Product then,” Master Deaton commented.

  But Tane shook his head. “For the brief breaks during the day, she can face the wall. The Lessers will be curious at first, but if we are vigilant and pass out enough Demerits, they’ll soon get the message. For the few hours after dinner when the Lessers have full access to that room, then Blonde can take her daily exercise, or spend some free time in one of the hobby rooms. I really don’t think we’ll need to worry about it for too long. Chances are,” his black eyes settled on Mary’s bowed head, “one or two trips to the Demerit room will likely satisfy her curiosity. She’ll all but run back to civilization to get away from us.”

  The very thought of having to return home, to wander the halls of that great empty house with only herself for company, made Mary shudder. But then she remembered, she’d given all her money Tane. So truly, it wouldn’t be long before she didn’t have even that house anymore.

  “Hold still,” the Master Doctor told her, switching a full vial for the last empty one.

  “I’m sure we can find enough ways to occupy her time,” Tane smiled, “if we use our imaginations.”

  His comment won a smattering of dark chuckles from the others.

  “We could send her to tidy the Master’s gym,” Deaton suggested.

  “She could oil straps and maintain the Demerit Hall,” Smith added. “The Lessers don’t do that near often or well enough.” One corner of his mouth lifted upward as he said, “For some reason, they seem strangely reluctant to go in there.”

  Even the Master Doctor chuckled at that, and he removed the needle from her arm, pressed a tuft of cotton to the wound, and stretched a band-aid over it. “All right, you.” He gestured for her to precede him to the exam table. “Let’s go.”

  This was the part that she dreaded the most. Mary tried not to look at them as she reluctantly stepped up onto the retractable ledge and sat down on the edge of the table.

  “Get your hips right up on the very end here,” the Master Doctor told her. “Nobody likes this part, but everyone goes through it. You may as well lay back and be quiet.”

  Lying down, Mary reached out to grab onto the padded sides of the table. She held on tightly, staring up at the ceiling. Blinking rapidly, she struggled to keep her breathing easy and slow as the doctor helped her feet into the stirrups.

  “Look at that pretty little cunny,” he said, his hands against the insides of her thighs to part her legs wider. “Relax your legs, now. That a girl. Open right up for me.”

  Blushing hotly, she forced her tense muscles to ease as she gave him full access to her most intimate places. She closed her eyes when she heard him pick up one of the metal tools on the table beside him.

  He touched her with his fingers first. He ran his thumb along her slit, moistening it before parting the folds in search of her clit. She caught her breath, almost lifting her hips from the table when he stroked her, but his hand on her pelvis kept her in place. “Given some encouragement, she moistens up nicely.” Abandoning her clit, he gently sank a finger inside her. “Very snug. Almost virginal, in fact.”

  Mary stifled a moan, staring fixedly up at the ceiling lights as he tested the tightness of her anus with his other hand. He gave her a sharp swat. “Relax your bottom!” he ordered.

  She clutched the table even tighter, her legs beginning to tremble. But she took several deep breaths and made the lower half of herself go slack.

  The Master Doctor parted the fleshy lips of her labia, opening her wide enough to sink two finger
s into her tight sheath, and another from his other hand into her bottom’s passage. He shook his head. “The Product didn’t come back like this. How long has it been, Blonde?”

  “Two. . .mm—” she cleared her throat. “Two years.”

  “That feels about right.” His hand withdrew and the Master Doctor replaced his fingers with a very cold speculum.

  Mary nearly came up off the table when the lubricated devise slipped into her vaginally. Her hands fisted at her sides, and her back arched as she sucked a deep breath into her lungs, the sound like an inverted scream.

  “Get your legs apart, Blonde,” the doctor said mildly.

  Mary grabbed both her thighs, panting hard as she tried to keep her legs from snapping shut or kicking out to get both him and that icy speculum away from her.

  “No,” he said as he examined her. “She definitely has not had a man inside her for quite a long time.”

  “I’m sure, between our collective imaginations,” Tane said with another smile, “we can take care of that, too.”

  “And I get her first,” Boyden said, making notes in the log. He chuckled. “Damn, I love my job.”

  The Master Doctor took two cultures and finished his exam. He removed the metal tool from her body and Mary promptly scrambled down off the table. She covered herself with one hand, her skin icy cold where the speculum had touched her. She didn’t care how it looked; she rubbed until her cold flesh began to warm.

  The doctor handed her two, small plastic cups. “Give me a urine sample in one and fecal in the other.”

  Still rubbing between her legs, warily she asked, “Why do you need that?”

  Behind her, Master Boyden dropped his clipboard on the table, took two sudden steps forward, and lay a fearsome swat to the center of her naked buttocks.

  Mary sucked a startled breath. Her hands darted behind her, but before she could even touch her stinging cheeks, he barked, “Hands on your head!”

  The plastic cups ‘tok-ed’ as they hit her skull, so startled was she that she didn’t even drop them first before obeying him.

  “There is no rubbing when I discipline you,” he told her.

  Mary glanced over at Tane, but Boyden swatted her sharply again, causing her hips to jerk outward with the force of the impact.

  “Don’t look at him; you look at me.” His eyes flashed. “You are in my barracks. For the next four weeks you belong to me. Not him. And if I ever hear you question a master again, I will put you to the block and whip you myself!”

  Mary swallowed hard, her eyes filling tearfully as she stammered, “I-I-I’m sorry, Master Boyden.”

  His dark eyes remained locked with hers for a long time. “On your knees,” he ordered, and she hit the ground instantly, bowing her head and trying hard to keep from crying in front of him.

  “Get your head all the way down,” he told her. Without waiting for her, he grasped her nape and firmly pushed until her forehead nearly touched the floor. “Hands behind your back.”

  She let go of the cups, sending them rolling across the floor in opposite directions as she clasped her hands behind her. It was the position Mahogany and China had thrown themselves down into when Tane had entered their room back in the States. Every muscle in Mary’s body clenched and tightened. Was it her turn now to be beaten? Wavering between a little anticipation and a lot of fear, her breath catching in her throat, but she didn’t dare move.

  Releasing the back of her neck, Boyden stood up. He walked around her, studying her from all sides. “There isn’t a mark upon you,” he said. “Has it been two years since your husband disciplined you, too?”

  Mary hesitated. Her eyes began to sting, and then she felt the mutinous trickle as a tear slipped past her lashes and fell from her cheek to the floor. “He did. Twice, sir, after the In—the Product came.”

  “What was that?”

  “Sometimes, Master Boyden, sir.”

  “You censored yourself. What were you were going to say originally?”

  “Interlopers,” she softly admitted.

  Eyes narrowing, Boyden squatted down beside. “How long has it been, Blonde, since the last time you were disciplined?”

  Her bottom lip began to wobble. Another tear spilled halfway down her cheek, then fell to the floor. “Six months, three weeks, five days.”

  “Look at me.”

  Mary tucked in her chin. She didn’t want to raise her head; she didn’t want him to see she was crying. She felt pitiful enough as it was. But left with few options, she sniffed, wished she had something to wipe her eyes with, and looked up.

  “Don’t waste your tears here,” he told her. With his body blocking her view of the other masters, it was easy to feel as though they were the only two people in the room. “We are not your husband; we are not neglectful. Your counting the days will end tonight in my barracks. Save your tears for that.”

  For a moment, Mary couldn’t breathe. Her stomach clenched so hard, she was afraid she might be sick.

  “I still need my specimens,” the Master Doctor reminded them.

  “Get up,” Boyden told her. “Do as you are told. With the night you have ahead of you, you don’t want me aggravated anymore than I already am.”

  Dismissing the other men, as Tane turned to go, he said, “Master Boyden, I leave her in your capable hands.”

  His dark eyes boring into hers, Boyden said, “By morning, she’ll be responding to the whip like a second-year Elite.”

  And that look he gave her reminded Mary so much of the ones her husband used to wear, before the Interlopers had come, back when he’d still needed her to sate his demons, before he’d lost all interest in her. At last, Mary was needed again. She was wanted and desired.

  Though he’d told her to stand, she bowed back down, pressing her forehead to the floor at Boyden’s feet. She anointed his boots with her tears, then kissed them.

  “So, there is such a thing as a natural submissive,” he said, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he watched her. “Fascinating.”

  * * * *

  “The first bunk will be yours,” Boyden told her, holding open the barracks door for her to proceed him. “When I return, you are to be kneeling on the floor, forehead on the tiles, hands behind your back. We have seven months of neglect to make up for. Never fear, I’ll make sure you’re broken in properly.”

  As naked as the day she was born, her hair still damp but at least no long dripping icy water down her back, Mary crossed the threshold and he closed the door behind her. She found herself standing at the top of a narrow flight of metal stairs. Twin rows of twelve single beds ran down the length of the room and, except for a wooden A-frame and a display of implements towards the front, there was little else in the way of furniture.

  The only person there, Mary went slowly down the stairs. She glanced once at the A-frame, then the display of canes, paddles and straps, before slowly turning to the closest bed. Not sure how long he would be absent and not wanting to be caught out of position when he did return, she lowered herself to wait the way he’d commanded.

  The hard white tiles were not kind to her knees nor her shins, and as the time dragged slowly on, she began to ache where her weight caused the most pressure. But Mary remained in position. She remembered in that long ago time when it was Richard she waited for. She used to distract herself from the physical discomforts by wishing herself into more pleasant surroundings.

  Then of course things had changed and it was the Interlopers who’d had to face his temper.

  Mary rested her forehead on the tiles, not sure what to want for now to take her mind off her aching knees. But she had come a long way to be put in this position again; she certainly didn’t want to wish herself back into neglect. She winced, shifting her weight slightly off-center. Maybe she could wish for Master Boyden to hurry up and get here so she could get up off the floor.

  What if he made her kneel here all night?

  Mary bit back a groan. She shifted again, b
ut there was no position more comfortable in which to spare her legs.

  No sooner had she shifted back, then did the barracks door swing open, and she heard the heavier tromping of a man coming down the stairs. Mary didn’t raise her head, but it didn’t matter. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to come instantly awake, as though a charge of static electricity had coursed in through her skin as Boyden’s familiar black boots strode by her. She felt the breeze of his passing ruffle through her hair, followed by the faint scent of his cologne. There was a dry rattle of bamboo clattering against wood as he set several items on a neighboring bed.

  “Close your eyes,” he told her.

  This was it. Mary stared down at the tile just beyond the tip of her nose, her breaths quickening as her body came to tingling awareness. This was what she’d wanted. It was silly to be afraid now. What could he possibly do to her that Richard had not?

  The thought did not ease her nervousness, but Mary closed her eyes anyway.

  “Sit up,” Master Boyden said.

  Slowly, her knees and shins screaming out in agony, she rose to a kneeling position on the floor. The brush of cloth touched her cheek as, without a word, Boyden managed to do the one thing her husband never had: he tied a blindfold over her eyes.

  Mary stiffened. Only by sheer force of will did she keep from reaching up to pull it off again. Richard had always wanted her to see what was coming; he’d liked to watch the fear on her face and to breathe the scent of it off her skin. Mary was familiar with that method. It felt comfortable to be able to see what was coming. As though she could almost handle it better then. But this. . .How could she brace herself against something she couldn’t see?

  She stifled a frightened gasp as Boyden tipped her head back all the way. She swallowed hard, flinching just a little when she felt a gentle touch at her temple. It wasn’t until the bristles sank into her hair and slowly began to stroke through the thick mass that she recognized the thing that touched her as a hairbrush.