Captive Discipline

by Taryn Williams

  "No, I can't guarantee it, but consider this." He rose as well, smoothing down his suit. "I've got an ear at the Court who hates this tortured women stuff. She told me if I brought back evidence you'd been touched in any way not condoned by the ICJ, she'd talk the rest of the justices into moving this whole mess to their stomping ground. I can't imagine those folks finding you did anything wrong, but even so, all you'd get is a short confinement at the Institute, or perhaps just a retraining course. Under my supervision."

  She tried to laugh. "But I told you—I've already received correction. Why would I want to be put on trial a second time?"

  "Wouldn't it be worth it to get out of a life sentence on this planet?"

  The words jolted her. This wasn't about keeping her out of Kollent, or saving her from the forbinner. Even if she no longer felt like running back to the Institute, did she feel secure enough in her feelings for Martel to give up the rest of the universe? If the Professor abandoned her appeal, she might well spend the rest of her life here.

  She couldn't pretend she and Martel knew each other well enough or had spent sufficient time together to be certain their marriage would succeed. Or what if he died suddenly? Even if the Council allowed her to emigrate, she might not have the funds to pay her way back to the Institute. Did she really want to cut off her last escape clause?

  "I can't give you any evidence," she said finally. All right, she wouldn't break her vows. But she also wouldn't be the one to tell him to dismiss the case. If for once Prof could just feel his way through the contradictions and understand why she couldn't say more, maybe—

  But she could tell he didn't understand. "All I need is something. Anything. If you can't talk about what's happened to you, maybe you have some notes from before—"

  She shook her head.

  "Janys, please. If you don't want us to see each other anymore except professionally, I won't touch you again. But you don't need to exile yourself here. "

  How typical. While she wrestled with her feelings for Martel and her new attitude towards discipline, the Professor believed she'd made all this happen as a way of ending things with him.

  "I'm not going to break my promises or the laws," she told him. "Whatever you do has to be without my help."

  Almost she wavered, seeing the way he looked at her. The gaze of someone saying a final good-bye. "You're really going to give up this last chance?"

  "Yes." In two more seconds, she would start crying.

  "That's it then, Janys, " he said heavily. "Without your cooperation, I can't get anywhere. I'll tell my friend at the ICJ you've chosen to remain."

  Slowly he stood up and walked to the door. Turning, he gave her one last look. "Goodbye and good luck, sweetie. I don't think I have to tell you how much you're going to need it."

  Then he was gone. She waited until she heard the door close downstairs, then ran for the bathroom. Someone once told her if you splashed water on your face while crying, your eyes wouldn't get as red.

  Although she knew Martel would soon be home, she didn't think she could face him so quickly. He'd be happy about her refusal to cooperate with the appeal, and overjoyed that uncertainty had lifted from their lives. But how could she explain her feelings about the Professor? Or worse yet, that she'd allowed him to kiss her?

  One person might understand her mixed emotions. Her body still complaining with each step, she started towards Shalimerie's house, only to run into her on the path.

  "I was coming to see you!" her friend announced. "Kronitin saw Martel waiting outside the meeting hall, so he went over to see what was going on. While he was there, this Professor Rickman dashed by, collected some woman from inside, and headed to his shuttle."

  "Did he say anything?"

  She shook her head. "Tadewidan tried to question him, but he just said there was no need for him to stay any longer."

  So he really is gone. Janys grabbed Shalimerie's arm and steered her back towards her own home. If the meeting had ended, she must have just missed Martel coming on the path from town.

  "Where's Chardontal?" she asked as they went inside the curiously quiet residence.

  "With Kronitin. Dr. Alaniette wanted us to bring him by her clinic today for a check-up. Chardontal was still fussing about going when his father stopped by to tell me about the Council, so he took him." Shalimerie rolled her eyes. "So young, and still he would rather go with daddy rather than mommy."

  Janys declined the offer of a mid-morning snack, certain her still jumping stomach couldn't handle it. She arranged herself as comfortably as possible on the couch while Shalimerie settled down on her favorite chair.

  Her friend clutched a pillow across her chest. "Tell me everything—who is this man who came to see you?"

  With no child to interrupt them, Janys began way back in her Institute days, when she'd first met the dapper Professor Rickman. How he'd offered to mentor her, staying after hours to answer her questions. How those encounters gradually moved from the classroom to the pub, then the floor of his office. "I didn't want to get involved with him that way," she confessed. "But I couldn't help it."

  Shalimerie patted her knee. "I know. My life would have been easier if I had walked away from Kronitin. Many things may be right even if they seem wrong to others."

  "This was wrong all the way. His wife—Andrea always treated me kindly at faculty functions. She never understood why I began going the other way at parties or stopped coming to her holiday open house."

  "Did you feel bad about her at the time?" The other woman tossed the question out like yarn to a kitten.

  Janys shook her head. "Sometimes. But I figured she must have done something to drive him away, or why would he want to be with me? Then I found out about the others, and I didn't know whether to feel better or worse. How could I be responsible unless I was the only one? But now that I'm married—well, it would destroy me to find out Martel had anyone else, whether it was one person or many."

  "Yes, that news can be devastating." For a moment Shalimerie's face darkened as though she intended to continue, but instead she fell silent.

  "There's something more," Janys admitted. "At least at first, I enjoyed taking him away from another person." She shifted on the couch, slipping off her shoes and pulling up her legs to take the pressure off her sore thighs. "That sounds awful to say, but it made me feel powerful."

  "And when you are a young student being wooed by an older man, powerful is a great way to feel," her friend pointed out. "Today you became truly powerful by standing up to him and letting him go."

  "Maybe."

  "No maybe about it," Shalimerie told her firmly. "Now all you must do is tell Martel

  about him."

  Janys leaned back and closed her eyes. "I don't think I can do that. He'd be upset I used to run around with a married man. My teacher, no less. And that even if I didn't break my marriage vows today, I came awfully close."

  "I know you are not one to kiss and tell," the other woman assured her. "And I have secrets from Kronitin from the days before we married. But this is different. I think Martel would understand if you let him know why this man appeared today, and how you sent him away."

  "I don't know." How could he understand the part where I sat on our bed and let Prof kiss me?

  Shalimerie seemed to read her mind. "When you have shared intimate times with someone, it is impossible to deny their existence. In time, things alter as you move on to other partners, and the relationship fades in brightness. You should not blame yourself for having feelings today or for not treating your Professor Rickman as you might a stranger."

  "It's just that I never told anyone about him before," Janys told her. "At the Institute—it would have hurt both of us if it had come out. I didn't feel I could trust anyone there so absolutely, and I really didn't have people outside the Institute."

  "Until now?" Shalimerie laughed. "I am honored. But it is good to talk. Sometimes hiding keeps relationships going longer than they should. I know I f
eared when Kronitin and I finally told our families that it might all fall apart. No more thrills from prowling around the school at night, or covering up with our friends."

  Janys saw what she meant. How exciting it had been the first day after Prof came to her bed, knowing none of her colleagues suspected. To her shame, although she'd begun avoiding Andrea Rickman after the first night, secretly she treasured the knowledge that although the other woman held the position, her hold on her husband's heart was much less secure. Would those moments in his arms been half as wonderful if he'd been single and they'd dated openly?

  "I just feel so guilty!"

  "But you have come to the right place to get rid of guilt, love." Shalimerie's green eyes danced with amusement. "Though I suspect you will not like my suggestion! Open up with Martel about the Professor. Then as soon as your backside can take it again, he will paddle away that kiss and everything else bothering you now."

  She understood what Shalimerie wanted her to do. End the secrecy and offer her body for correction. But the Professor's words made her wonder how she could even think of telling Martel, knowing he might return her to the spanking bench. "I just don't think I can do that," she admitted. "Look, I've yet to write down anything in the bibalon except for what people tell me. I just can't see myself soliciting a paddling."

  "Then just tell him the background story," Shalimerie suggested. "Martel may be displeased to learn you had an affair, but he has no control over things that happened before your marriage. The kiss today, yes—he could wear out your bottom for that—but nothing from the past unless you give him permission."

  "You're talking about venatin?" Janys recalled Elondelle's discussions of a fourth type of discipline. She hadn't paid much attention because she couldn't understand why anyone would ever deliberately seek to be punished. "I don't want to try that either."

  "As you wish," Shalimerie shrugged. "Someday I hope you will realize how much easier life can be when you confess your errors and allow them to be corrected, instead of carrying all the guilt around. But I know you have not been with us long, and it is always hard to recommend punishment to someone still recovering from forbinner."

  "I do appreciate your listening to me." Although Janys didn't think she'd follow her friend's advice, she felt better telling someone.

  "One thing to remember about Martel," Shalimerie added. "He is not a man who likes surprises. If you think he might find out about your relationship with the Professor from someone else—"

  "What?" Janys choked out the words. "Are you planning to tell Kronitin?"

  "No, of course not!" The other woman smiled reassuringly. "Only if he asks me specifically about today, and then only if he has good reason to do so. But that never happens. The men know friends must have confidences, and Kronitin will not force me to breach them."

  Janys found herself able to breathe again as happy shrieks from outside told them Chardontal had survived his trip to the doctor, but Martel surprised Janys by bursting through the door first. His face lit up when he saw her. "I was afraid something had happened. That professor left so quickly, I thought you might have had trouble with him."

  "He didn't like it when I wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear." Fortunately Shalimerie was too occupied with her son to participate in the conversation. Janys knew she wouldn't volunteer anything, but her body language might raise questions. "Now he's going to dismiss the appeal."

  Martel's grin broadened. "I should make you write down ten strokes for leaving without telling me where you were going. Fortunately Yagote pointed me over here—my mother sent her over to clean our place so you could rest, and she saw you walking in this direction.

  Janys blushed. "I just had a couple of things I wanted to ask Shalimerie."

  "Because I found you quickly, and because I can stop working so much if we no longer have the appeal to worry about, I think we can skip the bibilon entry today."

  "Would you like to join us for lunch?" Shalimerie asked. "I have enough for everyone."

  "Thank you, but Yagote had something underway when I left." Martel gave his sister-in-law a peck on the cheek. "Maybe I will take the rest of the afternoon off and celebrate with my beautiful wife. Finally we can live without either the Council or ICJ peeking over our shoulders."

  Just as I will live without the Professor, Janys reminded herself as she took her husband's hand and headed home.

  Chapter 10

  Janys believed it would take many days to fully recover from her punishment, but Shalimerie's salves worked their usual miracles. Two days after the Professor's departure, she scarcely noticed the soreness. That night she and Martel made love for the first time since the forbinner.

  As her husband lowered her onto the bed, his mouth licking at the tender places where he'd applied the strap, she remembered the Professor's kiss. Should she take her friend's advice and tell Martel what happened during those seconds before she pulled away? Or should she just enjoy resuming their intimacies? Maybe she should simply write what happened in the bibalon and let him deal with it.

  But when the next decedonner rolled around, the bibalon page remained blank. Nonetheless when Martel blew out the candles, she brought the marital paddle to the bedroom and got ready. Whatever he decided to do, she hoped it wouldn't be too hard, because the bruises hadn't completely faded from her rear end.

  She felt him move behind her and pick up the book. "Interesting," he commented. "Between the forbinner and the ending of lessons with my mother, nothing has been written for me to address today. Are you sure you have nothing to report requiring my attention?"

  Again she thought of the moments when she'd lost herself in her former lover's arms. If she told him, it would be over in a few minutes. She knew he'd be angry she'd led him to believe nothing but conversation happened with the Professor, and undoubtedly hurt she'd crossed the line, but surely he'd forgive her?

  Yes, of course he would. But she suspected the paddling he'd deliver would make her first decedonner seem like love taps. As much as she wanted to end the secrecy, she couldn't bring herself to trigger an otherwise avoidable walloping.

  "No, there's nothing I want to add." At least literally that was the truth. "Does that mean you don't need to spank me this time?"

  "Oh, we never let a decedonner pass unnoticed." He slapped her bottom lightly. "But I think we can do this one in a way you will like more than usual."

  Right. I'm going to like a spanking. Even if the Prof were correct about her being brainwashed, they hadn't pushed her so far she'd claim she enjoyed it.

  "You can go ahead and take the paddle back downstairs," Martel directed. "My hand will do for tonight."

  At least that was a relief. She practically ran down the stairs to get the paddle reinstalled before he changed his mind, although she knew from experience her husband didn't need wood to make an impression on her backside.

  When she got back he'd sat down on the bed with pillows piled on either side. To her surprise, he'd taken off his tunic, giving her a wonderful view of his shoulders and long, tapered arms. The butterflies in her stomach turned into something much more interesting as he motioned her over, his hands undoing the clasps on her sleep tunic until she stood naked in front of him. He guided her down over his lap, then arranged the pillows under her head, chest and legs. "Comfortable?"

  That was a first. He'd never cared before about the rest of her body when he prepared to assault her buttocks. "Yes," she admitted. The pillows supported her perfectly, and under other circumstances, she could imagine drifting off to sleep in the position.

  "Then relax and open your legs a little wider."

  She started to tense up, remembering how he'd spread her thighs on the spanking bench so the strap could hit home. How helpless she'd been with her hands and feet restrained, unable to do anything to protect her mound from the snap of the doubled-over leather. But now his hands glided over her, gently playing with her globes as she separated her limbs to accommodate him.

&nbs
p; "You have such a beautiful bottom, Janys." He traced circles on her right cheek, then switched to the left. "Sometimes I have to turn it red, or—" he touched one of the bruises—"other colors, but tonight I will make it a lovely pink. You will be able to look at it and know how much I care about you."

  Janys almost snorted. He might think turning her skin pink constituted some form of love, but she'd have preferred flowers. Except what was he doing? Instead of the smacks she expected, her husband started rubbing her gently. And it did feel awfully good.

  Later she couldn't say how long she lay across his lap as he massaged, kneaded, and caressed her from her waist to her knees. The sensations grew stronger as he dug his knuckles in or gathered up her soft flesh. Then he began patting her softly, building up to firmer strokes. Yet even when she realized he'd crossed the line into spanking, she welcomed the feeling.

  Moisture trickled between her legs. He must have noticed as well, because he started fingering her with his right hand while continuing to smack with the left. The slight stinging continued as she moaned and arched to meet him. Underneath, his hardness pressed up against her while he thrust two fingers inside. With a small cry she came.

  "Your turn," she whispered, getting off his lap and kneeling beside him on the bed. Quickly she freed his cock, taking it in her mouth. He laid his hand on her backside, cupping it across the warmest part as she sucked him to climax.

  They lay together on top of the quilt, too soaked in sweat to put on sleep tunics. Janys explored her rear end. Now the action had stopped, it felt tender and hot, and no doubt he'd turned it pink. Yet Martel had been right—what he'd done had been lovemaking, and she'd enjoyed every minute.

  "How can that be?" she marveled. "I really hated the other times, but this—"

  "Was different," he finished. "Because they were meant as punishments, and I have to make them hurt so you will not want to repeat the experience. This one was for pleasure, but a little pain at the right time can make it even better."