by Jaye Peaches
“He asked to look in my bag,” confirmed Sym. “I denied stealing them, but when he went into the Dome, Millicent was chomping to tell him how she’d seen me put them there, along with that other witch.”
“This can’t go on.” Lysa rapped her knuckles on the table. “We should all be friends.”
“What I want is Millicent to get what’s coming for her—a thrashing would teach her,” said Jen.
“Too risky. There has to be a way for all of us girls to come together.” Lysa pursed her lips. She’d promised Blake not to stir up trouble and Jen’s attitude didn’t help. “I’ll think of something. Let’s talk about other things. Have you heard any news from Earth?”
The conversation shifted to other things, and the tension lifted as laughter returned.
Chapter Nine
The door of the pod banged shut. Lysa jumped. Slowly, and with some trepidation she turned to face Blake.
Attitude adjustment. The two words echoed in her head as she lay the tablet on the table and attempted to smile at her sour faced husband. He glanced over towards the kitchen, where the worktop lay bare and the dishes empty. A load of dirty work suits still piled before the washer untouched. Scanning around the room, he stared at the sheets on the bed left ruffled and rammed to the bottom. He shook his head and planted his hands on his hips.
Boy, did he look sexy when he was cross. She rose from the sofa, aware that she needed to greet him, but nervous about his intentions.
“How long have you been logged on?” he asked.
“Oh, a little while, I suppose.” She swivelled the ball of her foot on the floor. She kept her eyes down. The sinking feeling grew stronger. She might try to entice him with charm or playfulness, but his mood told her otherwise. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t warned her.
“Three days this week you’ve failed to keep on top of things. I checked your hours for the Green Dome and you’re close to missing out on that, too.”
She shot her head up. “I am?” She’d no idea things had gotten that bad. “I’ll go first thing tomorrow.” She didn’t want to risk being called up before the adjudicator.
“What about me, Lysa?” He took a step forward. “Promises to me.” He pointed at the dirty clothes.
“I may have gotten carried away with looking at the mining data.” Two hours a day had blossomed into nearly six. “I’ve found some discrepancies in the gas venting figures, did you know—”
He held up his hand. “Tell me about that later. First we’re going to talk about your behaviour. What did I tell you yesterday when I came home to this mess and you glued to the computer?”
“You’d give me an attitude adjustment,” she muttered under her breath.
“Didn’t hear you,” he snapped.
“Attitude adjustment,” she piped up, rocking on her toes.
Blake moved forward again. “Did I tell you what this would involve?”
She cringed at the memory of what he described to her. “Yes,” she squeaked.
“And it clearly hasn’t impacted you, has it. Perhaps the threat of the strap was not sufficient. Maybe all this fun spanking we’ve been doing over the last few weeks has made you too comfortable, too willing.”
She bit down on her lip. She’d thought she would detest the strap the first time he used it, but he’d swung it without force and it had kissed her buttocks, making a resounding thwack, but not as painful as she envisioned. What was he suggesting? Something harsher? Her pulse quickened. Maybe, she’d been lax with her chores, however, did her attitude warrant a punishment?
“I don’t think I’ve been disobedient, a little distracted perhaps, but it won’t take long for me to sort this all out.” She picked up the bed sheet and swept it back over the mattress, tucking it in.
Blake coughed. “You’re missing the point, Lysa. I asked you to do it yesterday, and three days ago and each time you promised to stay on top of things. You haven’t. This is disobedience. In fact, I would call it defiance.”
She straightened up. “Defiance. Don’t exaggerate. I’m not that bad.” She attempted to placate him with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Naughty, maybe?”
“That’s enough!” He stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “This stops now.”
To her mortification, he pulled the dress off her shoulders, stripping her bare. She covered her breasts with her arms. “Blake, please don’t punish me.”
“Needs must. And you need it.” He went to the closet and gathered a few items in his hands.
Lysa’s eyes widened as she saw what he held. The strap she expected, it was what he’d threatened to punish her with, but the shackles!
“Lie on the bed, spread wide,” he commanded.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“My legs. I can’t move them.” They’d turned to lead—heavy frozen limbs, which failed to respond. The beats of her heart drowned out any rational thought. She wanted to move, to do as he said, but part of her fought—the independent Lysa remained buried in her psyche and she wanted to be freed.
“If I have to come over there, I’ll toss you on the bed and tie you down. Do you understand?”
The threat only seemed to harden her resolve not to move. She buried her face in her hand and sniffed.
“Oh, Lysa,” sighed Blake. “Please do as I ask, I don’t want to force you.”
She lifted her head and looked across to where he stood. His face appeared to soften and the furrows in his forehead grew shallow. “Why the shackles?”
“Because they make you compliant. If you wear them, then I will know your attitude is improving. They won’t hurt you. Plus you’re a wriggler.” He held up the cuffs.
They didn’t look harsh. Lysa’s feet moved. She climbed onto the bed, took a deep breath and spread-eagled her body.
Blake cuffed each wrist and ankle, attaching the chains to links on the corners of the bed. Once in place, he lifted her bottom up and lay two pillows underneath. She remembered the punishment block and the spanking bench. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the image.
The sound of him snapping on gloves cause her to twist her head around. What was he doing with that bottle in his hand? The bleaching agent. She applied it once a week, as he requested.
“I’m going to give you twelve with the strap, but to ensure you obtain the right frame of mind, I’m going to apply a liberal amount of this to your anus.” He squirted a dollop of the liquid onto his fingers.
The amount alarmed her and a rush of adrenaline quickened her heartbeats. “Please, Blake, it will burn.”
“Now would be a good time to show customary resilience, Lysa. What brought you here in the first place, will help you endure this.” He knelt next to her.
She tried to clench her buttocks, so he couldn’t apply the cream, but her splayed legs kept her cheeks well separated and he needed only prise them farther apart for access. The liquid felt cool, for a second and as he rubbed it into her tight hole, the burning began.
“Argh,” she shrieked.
He didn’t stop with one coating, but added another generous helping. The burning became intense, in the way hot chillies burned one’s mouth. “You’re going to hurt me,” she wailed.
“I checked with the doc, this won’t do you any harm. The only reason it’s applied in small amounts is because it irritates.”
“Irritates!” She swayed her bottom from side to side, trying to cool it down. “It burns.” With watery eyes, she watched him peel off his gloves. “Please, that’s enough, take it off.”
He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.
“Bastard,” she snarled.
“There will be no leniency if you use that kind of tone, young lady.” He picked up the strap and smacked it a couple of times on his palm. Lysa flinched, wondering how hard he would use it.
She buried her face into the bedcovers, hiding from him. The burning had stabilised, but not diminished. She concentrated on
breathing, letting the air fill her lungs. As she relaxed, accepting the horrible prickling in her posterior, she focussed her attention on Blake. She imagined him naked, the last time he fucked her, how he kissed and caressed her flesh as he dipped in and out of her, his face serene. He’d spoken of his love, how much he desired her and wanted to keep her close and safe. She sighed into the bed. Her limbs relaxed, the tautness of her bindings lessened as she stopped fidgeting. She unclenched her cheeks and let the cool air drift down her cleft.
“Good girl,” he murmured. He probed her slit with a finger. “You’re wet. Why?”
“I’m thinking of you,” she whispered. “It helps with the pain.”
“That pleases me. Keep thinking of me and this strapping will go easier on you.”
“I will be good from now on.” She turned her head and implored with her eyes.
He stood over her, strap in his hand and face resolute. “I know, but it doesn’t get you out of this spanking.”
The strap landed with a crack and an instant blaze of heat stung her bottom. She yelped.
“One,” said Blake, starting the count.
He spanked her bottom with more force than he’d used before with the strap and without pausing or providing soothing rubs between whacks. He’d looped the strap around his fist and the double layering whooshed as he swung it through the air. Tears descended, but after the first blow, she didn’t cry out. She gritted her teeth and held onto her dignity.
At the end, he tossed the strap to one side and rubbed her bottom. The fire he’d lit scorched, but the firm strokes of his hand helped deaden the pain. She lay quietly sobbing as he wiped away the remaining whitener and the burning ceased immediately. Next, he applied the cooling balm to her heated bottom and it helped put out the worse of the fire that blazed across her skin.
He undid her bindings and gathered her into his arms, holding her to his thumping chest. “I love you, so love you. Thank you for letting me show you how much.”
Lysa smiled and wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders as they lay breathless. “So, plastering me with a burning substance and strapping me is showing me love?”
He blushed. “I didn’t mean that, I meant, you know, your compliance and cooperation. Without it, we would fight all the time. We’re both head-strong, it wouldn’t work.”
She guffawed. “Do you know when I first came here, I thought, I’ve got to get this man I’m going to marry to cooperate with me so I can fulfil my dreams. Turns out it’s the other way round.”
They both laughed. Lysa snorted, looked about the room. “I best tidy up.”
He slapped her rump. “Yes, get to it, wife. I’m starving, then we can make love.”
She flitted about after he’d eaten, ensuring the pod was neat and tidy. He watched the transmitted bulletins from Earth, which Lysa suspected were censored to show the best of the news. Blake yawned, stretching his arms above his head. She didn’t expect him to make any demands and she lay on her side on the bed, keen to keep the weight off her sore bottom. After a while, he came to lay next to her.
“I thought I had a rule about clothes and the bed.” He traced a finger around her face.
“I best not break any more,” she quipped and quickly unveiled her nudity. “Better?”
“Much.”
She sidled up to him and kissed his lips, which he parted, allowing her delve inside his mouth with her tongue. It didn’t take much foreplay to awaken him or to stiffen his cock. She snuggled down between his legs and licked his shaft.
Blake groaned. “You wake me with sex and send me to sleep with it.”
She lifted her head, spying his half-open eyes peering down at her. “It’s my duty as your wife.”
“Mmm. You’re more than my wife.” He reached down and stroked her hair.
Lysa slid up his body using her cleavage to trap his cock. She rose up and straddled her legs on either side of his hips—his girth remained a challenged ever since she first rode him. “Okay, lover, what now?”
He cupped her tender buttocks in his palms, squeezing them slightly. She winced and dropped her jaw. The heat remained from his strapping, but rather than bother her, it made her clit excited, as if a modicum of pain heightened other senses.
Blake growled. “Lower that pussy, I want to feel it.”
With her hands pressed on his shoulders, she sank onto him, easily accommodating his thick cock and with a deliberate slowness began to fuck him.
He nudged her bottom, forcing her forward, so he could nibble on her nipples. “Then when I’m ready, I will fuck your lovely arse,” muttered Blake.
What once had been undesirable had become a lure for her. He’d taken her several times since her initiation and she no longer dreaded the intrusion. It enticed her, and Blake always prepared her well beforehand and brought her to an explosive climax.
She paused her gyrating movements and recalled something he’d said the day after she arrived on Colony 14. “Then I’ll have to bathe, because I’ll be your dirty girl.”
Chapter Ten
Lysa spent an increasing amount of her spare time with Ursula. She liked the quiet woman and after several meetings in either the Green Dome or a corner of the bar, she whittled away Ursula’s natural shyness. Of course, there was an ulterior motive to her friendliness. Lysa believed Ursula knew the truth about Sym’s unfortunate egg stealing incident. However, time was about to run out, Ursula and her husband were due to return to Earth.
“How’s the packing going?” she asked as she stirred the thick coffee like substance in her cup.
“Well,” replied Ursula. “Finn has sold quite a bit, so we will have little to take back home.” She sighed. “I’m so looking forward to green fields and the smell of flowers.”
Lysa agreed. She missed all those things and her grandmother’s laughter when she baked cookies. So much to pine for and she’d over two years to wait for her own return to Earth. “Ursula, have you made a decision about what I spoke about previously, you know, poor Sym and what Millicent did?”
She waited with her heart thumping. It was the last chance to prove Sym’s innocence, nobody else would take the stand against Millicent.
Ursula puffed her cheeks. “I have and it hasn’t been easy.” She paused and Lysa’s shoulders slumped—she guessed Ursula had decided to say nothing. “It’s been weighing on my conscience for weeks,” she continued. “You have to understand, Millicent is popular and has made many friends. I’ve despised her the moment she opened her mouth and called you, and your friends, whores. We all have our reasons for what we do.”
Lysa nodded. Under the table, she pressed her palms together as if in prayer.
“So, I’ve decided, since I’m leaving and have nothing to lose, I will speak out and tell the truth.”
“You will?” Lysa reached out over the table and grabbed Ursula’s hand. “Oh, thank you.”
Ursula gave an awkward grimace and Lysa released her grip, sitting back in her chair. “Sorry, just excited. When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
Lysa’s jaw dropped. “So soon.” She pushed back her chair. “We have to do it now.” She feared Ursula would change her mind.
“Now?” Ursula’s eyes darted about looking at the few others in the bar area. There was no sign of Millicent or her usual cohort of followers.
“She’ll be in the Dome, she always is at this time of day.” Lysa had come to realise Millicent’s gardening club had nothing to do with gardening. It was an opportunity to gossip while pretending to plant seeds and pick vegetables. “Please, Ursula, Sym paid a high price for Millicent’s nasty trick.”
Her friend pressed her lips together. “All right, but once I’ve told the truth, I’m not getting involved in anything else. I’m out of here.”
The two women walked out of the bar and into a neighbouring corridor.
“Lysa, wait up!”
Jen! Lysa turned to find her trotting up behind her with her sidekick Sym not far beh
ind. She gave Ursula a wary once over. “What you up to?”
The impending showdown with Millicent boosted Lysa’s confidence. Sym had a right to know. “Come and find out. We’re off to the Green Dome.”
The four women reached the Dome and Lysa flung the heavy door open. Over on the far side, in their usual huddle, stood Millicent, her prominent height visible amongst the other half a dozen women. Lysa marched over with Ursula next to her and Jen not far behind. Sym held back, keeping her distance.
“Millicent,” called out Lysa. “Ursula would like to tell you, and the others, something important.” She touched Ursula’s arm and gave her one last imploring expression, hoping Ursula didn’t back out at the last minute.
Ursula cleared her throat, her eyes flitting about. Opposite her, the other wives, all lifers, hovered nudging and whispering. Their collective body language—stiff bodies and frowning faces—didn’t sit well with Lysa. She glanced behind her and gulped down a sudden wave of nausea. Others had arrived, friends of Jen and Sym, most she knew and they lingered, muttering to each other. She’d promised Blake not to make trouble and she was about to bring together two sets of women who loathed each other.
She had to keep things under control. There could be no harsh words or recriminations. This was about exposing the truth and she hoped the women could move forward together, without Millicent’s influence, and find common ground. She nodded at Ursula, who straightened her shoulders. Lysa spied Ursula clench her shaking hands into tight balls. Later, when all this was over, she’d show her gratitude for Ursula’s bravery.
“I saw you, Millicent, put the eggs in Sym’s satchel when she was on the other side of the Dome,” she spoke clearly, with her eyes fixed on Millicent.
There was a rumble of uncertainty amongst Millicent’s friends, eyebrows furrowing. Ursula was well respected. Behind Lysa, the Corporate wives shuffled their feet, the restlessness growing with each passing second. The silence as they digested Ursula’s statement didn’t last long.
