by Jaye Peaches
“One, two, three,” she rattled off, barely keeping up with the rapid rise and fall of his hand.
On and on he spanked, zig-zagging between each buttock and bouncing off each cheek as if he’d a drumstick in his grasp. She rested her weight on the floor, taking the strain with her hands, while her toes perched on the other side of the chair.
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen,” she panted. She kicked her legs back and he smacked them back down. “Fourteen, fifteen. Ouch!”
“This is just the warm-up, Freya. I want you to try hard to be the best jenjin this Volta has ever had here. Don’t disappoint me. How many?”
She had kept count quietly while he’d spoken. “Twenty-five. Sir.”
The surge of adrenaline that had come at the beginning of the spanking had dissipated. The raw pain of the first few smacks had turned into a continuous fire where one slap merged into another and even when he targeted the same spot several times, she absorbed the discomfort by thinking of other things—like his cock plundering her flooded pussy. A retired spy had mentored her in subterfuge and taught her to vanquish fear and anxiety by focusing on a happier outcome. Lost in her fantasy world, she tried the same technique, except Marco kept speaking to her, distracting her from slipping away by lecturing in a wonderfully stern tone.
“I want you to think of me every day, then when you lose sight of obedience, you will recall why it is you are here. I’m not punishing you for my amusement, Freya. If you don’t shape up, Lalita will make life even harder for you.”
As hard as the laundry? Probably not, but if Marco intended to parade her around naked, then things weren’t going to be fun either. She hated the idea and tears filled her eyes, waiting to drop onto the floor. “Thirty-five,” she rasped. She glued her hands to the floor to prevent herself from tipping off his lap.
“Let me help.” He tucked his leg over hers and anchored her in place. “Now, a few with this wooden paddle. Something of a luxury: wood on a barren planet.”
She struggled under his pinning leg before slumping once again. Giggling in lessons wasn’t a big deal, but perhaps she could have contained the exuberance and paid better attention when asked questions, which she refused to answer because uttering sexual words made her flustered. As for the protocols, she’d started out despising them, but when she watched the elegance of the other jenjin, the graceful ways they moved and performed their duties, she envied them. Her slovenly attitude had not been received well by some, as if she’d lowered the tone of the Volta.
“Sticking your tongue out behind the back of an overseer is vulgar.” Marco emphasized the last word with the paddle. It slapped noisily across both her bottom and she whooped in pain.
Who’d snitched on her? She was sure there had been nobody looking. “Thirty-six. They spy on me!”
“The rooms are under remote surveillance. Lalita and the overseers aren’t here just to guide you, they watch over you, especially the pleasure rooms. They have the authority to halt anything they consider abusive. Soldiers can be evicted, and if they injure a jenjin, I will oversee their punishment.” He added another blow with the paddle and the thwacking sound echoed around the room.
She sniveled. “Thirty-seven, sir.” What else had she’d done—danced. She’d danced in her bedroom. Had that been reported, too? “Have I no privacy?” she said bitterly.
“Watch your tone.” He added another two cracks of the paddle and the pain seared deep into her tender bottom.
“Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine.”
“Only in this room are you guaranteed privacy. I want to be able to trust you in here. Do you promise to behave?” He rubbed her fiery ass and the coolness of his hand was a stark contrast to the throbbing heat.
“Yes, sir.”
He dropped the paddle on the floor. She twisted on his lap, but he had her trapped tightly. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but he seemed to be reaching for something.
He rested a cold bottle on her back and she shivered. He held her ass cheeks apart and slid his finger along her groove, finding the hidden entrance. He drizzled cooling lube along the furrow and slowly massaged it into her bottom hole. Wave upon wave of trembles erupted across her skin. He worked his finger inside her and continued to stretch her tight hole wider. She flexed the muscles and he inserted two fingers.
“Good. Keep relaxed.” He probed her with both hands, one in her ass and the other plying her swollen folds. “You’re so sexy with this hot ass.”
She wanted this—his cock hardening beneath her waist. She’d hoped to find something erotic in her spanking; instead, it had been his teasing fingers in her asshole that had caused her to writhe and moan on his lap.
Something solid and icy pressed against her anus. She flinched. The butt plug. It felt huge, as if he was about to insert a metal boulder in her ass. “Oh, no, no,” she muttered.
“Yes, yes,” he replied. “You can do this, Freya. It’s going to sink right in and stay snug.”
She focused on breathing slowly, relieving the tension and it worked. The plug slipped inside and rather than leave it be, he rotated it and continued to frig her pussy with his other hand.
“Oh, gracious,” she muttered in English. “You’ll make me come.”
Her pussy juices leaked in tandem with his thrusting fingers. The pressure of the plug in her bottom grew, building her climax until she hovered on the brink of her orgasm.
“Please. May I come,” she squealed.
“Wait.” He twisted the plug. “You’re so wet. So ripe for taking. I want to watch you come on my fingers and see this tight little ass flex when you do. Come for me now.”
She held her breath as he slid a finger out of her pussy and glided it over her clitoris. It was all she needed to tip over the edge into a breathless orgasm.
He patted her bottom and released her from his pinning leg. “Good. Now stand up and walk around.” He helped her to her feet.
Freya clutched her bum with both hands. The heat was pervasive and covered both globes. Between her cheeks, she felt the jeweled head of the plug. As she walked, her pussy juices dripped between over her inner thighs. The weight of the plug was obvious and the sensation of fullness was intense. It wasn’t a bad feeling. She paced a few steps then turned to face Marco.
He brushed down his pants and walked toward the door. “Let’s go, Freya.”
She froze. She’d almost convinced herself he might be bluffing about parading her naked across the Volta. “Please, Marco. I’ll be good.”
“I’m sure you will be. This will help remind you. If you feel ashamed, then note that it is similar to my disappointment. You can do this, Freya. You’re beautiful, even with a red ass. The girls won’t laugh at you. They’ve all had to learn the same lessons as you and none of them will have escaped punishments.”
She rocked on her toes, tears reclaiming her eyes. “Help me.”
He held out his hand. “I will, sweetness.”
She grasped his hand and followed him out of the door. She wanted to tiptoe behind Marco and hide in his shadow. Instead, he kept her at his side and whispered words of encouragement. “Chin up and back straight.”
When they passed a small group of jenjins, Freya expected quiet laughter. Instead, the women bowed and showed little fascination in her red posterior. They seemed more taken by Marco’s presence in their midst.
Soldiers saluted as they exited the pleasure room. Wiping the grins from their faces, they snapped to attention. Marco squeezed Freya’s hand. It was what she needed from him. He considered this part of her punishment, but perhaps he was right. His intention was to crush her fear of nudity and humiliation, and maybe it was working.
She swung her hips and ignored the heat in her ass. They were close to Lalita’s private rooms when Marco let go of her hand. “Good. Now remember to do as you’re told. She wants you to be successful, Freya. She’s not out to make you fail.”
Lalita welcomed the governor by rising from her chair and bowing. “Freya. Yo
u look enchanting,” she said with sincerity.
“Tell Lalita how many spanks you received.”
“Thirty-nine. I’m sorry I have not be courteous to the overseers and laughed at them. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just nervous,” said Freya, casting her eyes down.
Marco pointed to the floor.
It almost crippled her, having to prostrate herself at their feet and stick her jeweled bottom in the air. She managed with as much grace as she could muster given her jelly legs.
“A well-punished bottom, governor. Do you wish her to wear the plug in your absence?”
“An hour a day. That will be a sufficient reminder. Continue with her training, Lalita. I shall be back in two days and I have every hope that she will behave in my absence.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I have to return to my office. Please ensure Freya’s bottom is soothed and she is given a bath.”
“Naturally.”
Freya listened as Marco gave his instructions and she wished he could stay and take her back to the bedroom. The realization of how much she needed him brought tears trickling down her face.
“Would you excuse us, please, Lalita.”
The door closed behind her and Freya and Marco were alone. “Up,” he said.
She staggered to her feet and wiped the wetness from her eyes. “Do you have to go?”
“Yes, little jenjin. I do.” He brushed a rogue lock of hair from her face. “I want you to do something for me.”
“What?” She snuggled into his arms and rested her head against her chest.
Marco stroked her back. “I want you to consider a tattoo for me.” His hand paused mid-caress as she snatched a breath.
“Tattoo. I don’t know. That’s a permanent mark.” What would it signify—that he owned her?
“Not necessarily. There are tattoos that last a limited period. I fancy seeing a fire rabbit running around your back.” He traced his finger between her shoulder blades.
“Run?” She peeped up at him, wondering if he was joking.
“An animated tattoo—it’s not permanent, the ink wears off. We discovered the art form on planet thirty-six. The ink moves between your skin cells. It’s painless and harmless. Usually it takes a few minutes to complete the transition. A fire rabbit has bright eyes that glow in the dark. It reminds me of you.”
She considered his request as he kissed the crown of her head. “Will you miss me?”
“Yes. Always. You can’t imagine how hard it is to keep you out of my dreams.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her lips.
“I’ll do it. Your fire rabbit. If it makes you happy.”
“It would, Freya.” He squeezed her arms. “Would you like me to remove the plug?”
She nearly said yes, but held the answer in check. Would it hurt her to walk back with it in place? “No, thank you. Gellis can do it before I have my bath. If that’s all right with you, sir.”
“That’s fine with me, sweetness.” Before he reached the door, he turned and wagged his finger at her. “Be good.”
Chapter Eleven
Freya was singing in the shower. Marco didn’t understand the words. She was massaging shampoo into her scalp while he brushed his teeth. He’d not planned to sleep with her, but yet again, he’d dozed off with her in his arms. It was becoming a habit and not one he’d anticipated would happen so frequently.
His original idea, beyond the obvious need for sex, had been to keep her at arms’ length. He’d envisioned regular fucks, firm discipline, and a rigorous regimen of rules that would keep her mentally confined. Those plans had slipped to the sidelines as he simply enjoyed her company, especially the warmth of post-sex cuddles and relaxation. He’d never bothered with such familiarity with his previous women.
During those quiet spells, Freya always found a way to encourage him to open up about his life, his past. He’d described how he hunted fire rabbits and ice bears on the planet where he was raised. He’d spoken of his years in the army, then his transition into the imperial intelligence network, which was responsible for maintaining order across the Vendu empire of colonies.
Freya in turn had described her love of Earth and its natural beauty, which had been devastated by the invasion. “We hate you, you know that?” she’d told him.
“No surprise. Most aliens do.” It wasn’t something he thought about much, but it was a pity that the Vendu considered crushing a civilization a measure of success. However, he couldn’t bear the idea of Freya despising him for his role in the conquests, so he listened as she talked about her world, democracy and liberty, which amounted to more than the Vendu were permitted.
He put down his toothbrush. “What language was that? French or German?” he asked as she stepped out of the shower.
“Neither. Swedish. The language my mother taught me as a child. It’s kind of my mother tongue.” She wiped the droplets off her face with a towel.
“Impressive. Vendu require only one language in the empire.”
“Yet, you speak English.” She rubbed her hair.
“I like the sound of it. Obviously, we listen in on your communications.” He took the towel out of her hands and began to pat down her back.
The fire rabbit moved again. It took a few minutes to complete its circuit around her back. The tattoo artist had never inked a prisoner before. He was accustomed to soldiers, who liked new tattoos after a mission to show off their exploits. Animated tattoos were too expensive for them, but Marco had greater funds at his disposal.
She’d not fussed during the lengthy process. The artist had created a template in advance and it had taken time to reproduce it on her back, then the ink had been injected under the skin, filling the pattern in a moving sequence.
“Where is it?” she asked.
He tapped her left shoulder blade. “Here. She’s beautiful with her amber eyes glowing. Like you.” He nuzzled his nose in her wet hair. “What were you singing about?”
“The moon. An old Swedish folk song. The kind sung in the middle of the winter when the sun never rises.” She sighed and pushed her bottom back against his hardening cock. He wanted her again. She’d made him insatiable and created in him a passion for sex that went beyond the physical.
“Tagra has no moons.”
“No months either without a lunar cycle. I calculated, based on the time it takes Tagra to journey around the primary sun, that there should be eight months in a year and thirty days in a month. You should instigate a proper calendar instead of simply counting days.”
He smiled with amusement. “It’s of no consequence here on Tagra to divide time into dates, a month, or even a week. Time moves forward and schedule is based on the imperial calendar back on Halos. Today is the sixty-fifth day of the emperor’s nineteenth year. Someone calculated the length of a Tagra day based on the planet’s rotational cycle and that’s all that is needed for shift patterns. Day after day, nothing changes here.”
She pivoted and with the tip of her finger traced the first letter of his name, which covered his chest. “Don’t you think… and I mean this most respectfully, sir, that Tagra might benefit from a sense of time and purpose?”
“Meaning?” He raised one of his eyebrows. She’d already described, during one lazy session in bed, music, dancing, and the theater—things that humans liked to do in their free time. Vendu played competitive, somewhat violent sports or raced skyrockets across the sky. Not exactly activities suitable for prisoners.
“Books. You have no books. Don’t you think telling stories is important? It helps people understand each other, communicate and it can be entertaining. Don’t you have stories to tell?”
“We tell of our past by speaking of it. We have documents for reporting events and recording data. What’s the point in keeping alive a fantasy?”
She puffed out her lips and mused over her response. “I’m trying to suggest that if the prisoners were occupied with reading, music, and perhaps teaching each other things, then they wo
uld be happier.”
Marco frowned. “Happy? They’re being punished. They’re rebels, murderers—”
“They were. They might still be some of them, but now they’re living in a hell and have no hope. Why keep punishing them when they’ve nothing to live for? I think, and of course, who am I to tell you what to do, sir, I think if you gave them a purpose beyond the drudgery of work, they might not spend their time fighting amongst themselves.” She lowered her eyes, putting into practice the training she’d been given on meekness.
He opened his mouth to dismiss her claims with a derisive snort then recalled the memo he’d received the previous day. Another string of assaults and murders, and although he’d had some success with capturing the worst perpetrators, Tagra remained difficult to govern. The factions had replaced their lost comrades with others and another faction had stepped into the League’s shoes. Women remained especially vulnerable and no amount of patrols could halt the rebellious nature of the colony’s population.
Where could he send those who made trouble? The ringleaders had been dispatched to another harsher penal colony on icy Barah. Due to the terrible conditions, most would probably not survive more than a few years. However, he couldn’t keep sending the worst offenders away to other penal colonies because most were already at capacity.
“Music? Would that really settle them? Books?” He shrugged, but didn’t dismiss her idea.
“One of my friends here, she’s able to recite by heart reams of poetry. Everyone sits rapt and listens. They’re wonderful stories of her culture and we talk about things. It creates harmony. Don’t you see?”
He didn’t especially. Warriors sought victory and power, not harmony. “I’ll think about it, Freya.”
She smiled and it pleased him when she smiled because through it shone her beauty. However, for now, he’d heard enough words. Fisting her wet hair in his hand, he tilted her head back and locked his mouth on hers before she could say anything else. He’d fuck her one last time before he had to leave. Today, she’d have to wear the plug for three hours. She accepted the plugging without complaint as if she expected the demands he placed on her during his lengthy absences.
