by Jaye Peaches
“Do you wish to read the contract one last time, young lady?” he addressed Lysa directly, holding out a tablet.
She hovered, hand drifting towards the desk, then she shook her head. “No thank you. Sir.”
“Are you sure?” asked Blake. She’d never discussed the contents of the contract nor quibbled the rules and regulations. It surprised him that she’d hadn’t baulked at the lengthy disciplinary section.
She turned to speak to him. “I trust you to know what is best for me and if you thought I should know anything that you would tell me. Sir,” she added with a small smile.
“Very good.” Harkess placed the tablet on the table between them and picked up a stylus. “Blake, you sign here and Lysa, here.”
Blake scrawled his electronic signature under his name and handed the stylus to Lysa. She held it, almost touching the screen, and her hand trembled. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she added her signature.
Harkess rose from his seat and shook Blake’s hand. “I knew you’d change your mind, young man. Always for the best to be married. A happy man makes for a happy miner.” He didn’t address Lysa. “Now, it is usual for you two to say something to each other. An informal ritual instigated by my predecessor that has become something of a tradition. Something simple. Brief. You first, Blake.”
Blake cleared his throat and took Lysa’s hand in his. “Lysa. I promise to take care of you and assist you in whatever way I can to fulfil your dreams.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away before they could fall. “Blake. I promise to be all that you desire in a wife.”
Harkess returned to his seat, picking up the tablet. “Well, they were not the usual statements I hear spoken, but then you, Blake, you’re not what I think of as being a typical miner.”
Blake’s cheeks filled with the heat of flushing blood, while Lysa’s blanched. Had he gone too far with his promise? He didn’t mind being unorthodox in his habits, but Harkess was not a man to provoke. “Thank you, sir, for your assistance.”
The other man didn’t look up and waved his arm in dismissal.
Blake grabbed Lysa’s hand and they scampered out of the room. “Phew!” announced Blake. “It’s done. Let’s go celebrate.”
The moment the door to his pod shut behind him, they scrambled to undress. Blake maintained a constant stream of kisses as he walked Lysa backwards into the room. He ran his hands over her bare flesh, crushing a buttock cheek in his hand and his lips trailed down her cleavage until he found a warm breast and curled his tongue around the nipple.
She tumbled onto the bed and he lay his body over hers. His cock pressed against her soft belly, hardening into a ramrod. Lysa explored his back with her hands, stretching her arms around to embrace his girth. She coiled her legs about his, pinning him on top of her. The frenetic desire to be buried deep within her grew and he heaved his body into place, ready to pump her into a state of mind-blowing orgasms.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly.
“No, no,” He poked the tip of his cock in her wet pussy. “You’re so wet, wife.”
She wriggled her hips at him. “I want to fuck you.”
Blake halted his teasing. “You on top?”
“Please, let me. I’m good. Trust me.”
“I want to drill you like a mine bit.” He held his body over hers, inspecting the stiff nipples and flushed skin.
“Lovely,” she mocked. “After I’ve ridden you.” She cocked her head to one side and fluttered her eyelashes. “Please.”
He moved, shifting his weight off her and went to sit against the headboard. “I want to see your face.”
She straddled his legs, struggling to reach her knees on either side of his pelvis. Lifting her bottom up, she lingered, touching the tip of his erection with her slit. She grinned at him. “Thank you for marrying me.”
She lowered herself, impaling her pussy on him, edging down with gritted teeth. His thick cock met resistance and her mouth gaped open as she swallowed him inch by inch.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he moaned. She sank slowly, grinding down into him. He felt the friction, the skin of his cock heat up.
She gripped the headboard, tossed her head back and her bottom landed on his balls. She’d taken him to the hilt. Blake grabbed her waist and bounced her up and down, watching her breasts swing. Unable to resist the delicious flesh, he pressed his face into her cleavage, crushing her in his arms.
“Come,” he growled.
She responded immediately to his request. Her pussy contracted in waves, trapping his cock deep inside her until she slumped over his chest, heaving from her exertions.
“Now, wife. It’s my turn. On your hands and knees,” he hissed in her ear. “I’m going to give you a wedding night to remember.”
She sniggered into his shoulder. “Promises, promises.”
“I don’t renege on mine. You’d better not on yours. Remember the contract? From now on, if you disobey me, you’ll face the consequences. You’d best behave.”
“Sure, whatever,” she giggled.
He pulled her up straight, her face flushed with blood. “I’ll let that pass today, but if you whatever me tomorrow, you’ll be sorry.”
Her features changed, a hue of paleness descended over her face. “Sorry. Don’t be cross. It’s meant to be our wedding day.”
He cupped his hands about her face and kissed her lips. “No, you’re right. Nothing should spoil today. Lie on your back, I won’t take you from behind. You can show me your beautiful face as you come.”
She kissed his cheek, sliding her mouth down his throat and on to his chest. “Let me lubricate you first.”
Blake chuckled. “Go for it.”
Chapter Five
Lysa stretched and yawned. She reached out for a switch and the room flooded with light, forcing her eyes shut again.
Blake had already left for his shift. She vaguely remembered him creeping about the room, dressing and downing a swift breakfast before kissing her forehead.
“Be good, go explore,” he’d whispered.
Drowsy and aching in the hips from their sexual exploits, she spent a few minutes under the mist of the shower, trying to wake up. What to do? Blake wouldn’t be back for a while. She dressed and with a sense of adventure growing, left the pod to see what or who she could find.
He’d given her a corporate credit card to order two new dresses. She negotiated the tunnels without becoming lost and located the small mall. The clothing store kept a stock of work clothes, a surprising quantity of sexy lingerie and basic women’s wear. No dresses. She asked the assistant, a young woman with waist length hair, about dresses. The online catalogue gave her a few options and Lysa, not being a tall woman, selected two above the knee and tight at the waist. Blake insisted whatever she picked had to show her ‘shapely legs.’
The woman swiped her card and placed the order. Lysa was curious—another wife—were they employed on the colony?
“If you don’t mind me asking,” broached Lysa, “are you married to a miner?”
She shook her head, frowning, as if Lysa had said something distasteful. “No,” she retorted. “My husband is part of the maintenance team for the habitat complex. He keeps all the life support functioning. Critical job. I came with him.”
A lifer then, not a Corporate wife. “You’re paid to work in here?”
“Yes, of course. We were both offered jobs. I’m not one of them,” she sneered, cocking her head over to a young woman examining bras.
Lysa continued to wander about the complex. She visited the gym, which had various machines for toning the body muscles. Blake had dropped a large hint that he expected her to look after her body and not let her muscles go to waste. The bar, with its chairs and tables, was devoid of activity. Too early in the day perhaps? No alcohol on the drinks list, but she didn’t expect there to be. Back on Earth, alcohol had become prohibitively expensive. Shipping it out to the Outer Rim worlds would cost too much and dru
nkenness didn’t fit well with safety protocols.
Her fingers itched to access the computer network. Blake hadn’t logged her in and pointed out she needed to make friends with humans before immersing herself in mining systems. She’d resisted the temptation to scowl at him, because he was right.
Returning home for a bit of lunch, she stared at the four walls. Loneliness would be a big issue if she didn’t find some way to occupy her time. She changed into her baggy pants and headed out to the Green Dome. A few hours cultivating plants would do her good.
Approaching the metal doors, she caught up with another woman, dressed in work clothes. “Hi,” she ventured. “I’m Lysa.”
The redhead turned and smiled, a warm greeting, which filled Lysa with hope. “Lysa. You’re Blake’s new wife.”
“Yes. As of yesterday.” She held open the door for the redhead.
“I’m Jen. Yuri’s wife.”
“So, you’re here to help make food for the colony?” asked Lysa.
Jen grimaced. “I’m here because unless I do another hour in this place I’m screwed.”
“Oh,” Lysa looked around the plant house. A few others were present. “I’m quite looking forward to keeping busy.”
“I can think of better ways of keeping busy, but until Yuri is off shift, I’m stuck in here,” Jen kicked the ground.
“What do I do?”
“There is a list of outstanding tasks displayed on the monitor over there. Pick one.” Jen pointed to a bank of screens by the door.
Lysa tapped on the screen, scrolled through the list and spied seed planting. She examined a plan of where to sow them and the location of the storeroom.
“Join me?” she suggested to Jen. “We can chat.”
“Sure,” Jen shrugged.
As they dug small holes in the soil, they nattered. Jen had been on the colony for three months. “You enjoy it?” asked Lysa.
Jen winked. “It has its moments.”
Lysa shifted on her knees, tossing a few seeds into the hole she’d made. “What did you mean about being screwed if you didn’t finish your quota here?”
Jen twisted her trowel into the ground. “You know. The dreaded punishment block.”
Lysa started. Punishment block! PB… The lettering above the doorway not far from the Green Dome. She swallowed. “Have you been in there?”
“So far, only to witness a punishment. Bastard of a man, that constable.”
“Constable?” Lysa’s pulse rate increased with every passing second. The rumours she’d heard on Earth couldn’t be true.
“The adjudicator’s stooge. One dishes out the sentence, the other carries it out with rather too much jubilation.”
Lysa’s hand trembled about the trowel. “What kind of punishments?”
“You know. Spread-eagled. The usual—”
“Jen!” Somebody screeched her name across the dome. Jen bounced to her feet. “Sym.”
The two friends hugged. Lysa was left on the side lines, as Jen and Sym bantered, picking up the threads of discarded conversations. She waited, keen to know what Jen had been about to say. The usual punishments? Meaning?
Jen halted. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Sym, this Lysa.”
Lysa rose, dusting the dirt off her legs and smiled at Sym—a raven headed girl with pretty eyes and snub nose. She looked so young.
“You’re married to Craig?” Lysa remembered meeting the man with the scar.
“Yes,” she blushed. “Three months. Jen and I arrived on the same shuttle.”
“Your husbands, they…” Lysa struggled to find the appropriate words, “are good company?”
Sym flushed even brighter. “Yes,” she squeaked.
Jen put her arm around Sym. “She’s finding it tough aren’t you, sweetie. A bit homesick and Craig, well, he’s a rutting gorilla. He likes to watch, too.”
Lysa’s eyes opened wide. “Watch. What?”
Jen rolled her eyes up. “Getting fucked. What do you think? He passes her around to whoever, unmarried or married, it doesn’t bother Craig or Yuri for that matter. He offered me to Blake once, but Blake wasn’t interested.” She chuckled. “Didn’t want me either, which was a shame. A threesome with Yuri would have been fun.”
“Doesn’t the Corporation mind, I mean aren’t they bothered by all this wife swapping?”
Both girls laughed. “They like the men happy,” explained Jen. “As long as nobody gets hurt, they don’t care what goes on in our pods. Outside, in the public area, we wives are meant to be polite, respectful or it’s the punishment block.”
It was Lysa’s turn to blush, she pressed a hand to her hot cheek. What to say? The two friends saved her from further embarrassment and opted to finish their stint in the plant house. They waved goodbye, but Lysa decided to stay behind and work for another hour.
Wiping her brow, she spied a small group of women over by the chicken coop collecting eggs. Picking up her trowel, she walked over to them, determined to make the acquaintance of more wives.
“Hello,” she announced. “I’m Lysa.”
Her smile this time didn’t work because nobody returned the greeting. They looked her up and down, as if she was diseased. “One of them,” sneered a tall woman.
She clutched the trowel handle tighter. “Them?”
“Those sluts who come up here from Earth, thinking they’re the best.”
Lysa took a step back. “I’m a wife, like you,” she snapped.
“No, not like us,” said the tall woman. “We are real wives. No getting divorced and pocketing the money. You’re no better than a sex slave or a whore.”
Lysa backed away. “I was only trying to make friends,” she stuttered.
“We don’t make friends with your type,” glared another woman with blonde hair. “Do we, Millicent?” she addressed the tall woman.
Millicent laughed. “Hell freeze over first, Oona.”
Lysa spun on her toes and hurried away, astounded by their harsh words and unsympathetic tone. Tidying away her tools, she left the plant house, not looking back. Behind her, the laughter fizzled out.
Walking down the tunnel, she came to the mysterious doorway with the PB lettering. She glanced up and down the corridor and pushed the door open.
A square room with grey walls and black flooring. Ominous, slightly chilly and lacking any adornments. Around three walls were rows of benches, creating an auditorium. In the middle of the room lay a foreboding piece of furniture. She’d never seen anything like it. She tiptoed towards it, peering over her shoulder, checking she was alone.
Jen had used the term spread-eagled. Now Lysa could see what she meant. A bench with four arms—two in a T-shape and the other two in a V-shape. She could picture a prone person laying on the peculiar table, arms outstretched to her sides, legs spread wide. She reached out to touch one of the numerous straps. She flinched, dropping it. The rigid material scared her.
Tears welled in her eyes. It was true then. All the rumours back on Earth, neither denied nor confirmed by the authorities—corporal punishment existed on the Outer Rim worlds. She’d assumed the rumours to be false. Yet here she stood in the so-called Punishment Block faced with a spanking bench, a cruel device for holding a woman in place while she was beaten.
A wave of nausea hit her belly and she charged out of the room, running down the corridor, desperate to reach the sanctuary of her pod.
She flung open the door and came face to face with a half-undressed Blake. He’d removed his arms from the work suit, leaving the pants in place. The grime on his face couldn’t hide his surprised expression.
“Lysa?”
She charged up to him, bared her fists and thumped them on his burly chest. “You never told me about the corporal punishment.”
Blake grabbed her wrists, easily holding her hands at bay. She winced, struggling to free herself.
“Calm down, Lysa. What are you shouting about?”
She stared up into his bemused face. “That room.�
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“You went into the Punishment Block? I told you not to.”
“I can see why. It’s barbaric.”
He lowered her arms, twisting them behind her back. “Lysa, you knew about the spanking, so what did you think happened when you break a Corporation rule? Huh?”
Her mouth opened and shut in disbelief. Spanking!
“It’s in the contract. Order in the colonies is maintained by corporal punishment. It ensures wives don’t make trouble. It’s a privilege to be out here, but the company can’t have women running amok, invoking dissent. You know this, so why are you upset?”
“Spanking,” she repeated. “You don’t condone this?”
He chuckled. “Good grief, Lysa. I support it whole-heartedly. So do you. You signed the contract.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
He freed her arms and she rubbed her wrists. Bowing her head, she stared at the dirt on her shoes. What an idiot! “No,” she muttered.
“You foolish girl. Didn’t you read it back on Earth, before being accepted into the catalogue?”
“I circumvented the usual channels, didn’t I?” She didn’t dare to look at him. “I missed out on several selection stages. By then, everyone assumed I’d read it and agreed to abide by the contents. I couldn’t ask to see a copy, it would expose my deception.”
Blake clenched and unclenched his hands. “When we were in the adjudicator’s office?” he growled.
She chewed on her lip. “It didn’t cross my mind there would anything like that in it. I thought it was all rumours. Gossip put about to put off women going.”
“It doesn’t seem to put off anyone I’ve met. If you had known, would you be here, married to me?”
She pictured herself lying on the spanking bench, tied down and humiliated. “No, absolutely not. I’d find some other way. It would have taken longer, but I would have made it here, somehow,” she blustered.
“Well, it’s too late. You signed it and gave your consent. Look at me, Lysa.” Raising her chin with his finger, he tilting her head up. He folded his arms across his naked chest and stood with his legs apart.
