by Ashe Barker
“Sir, I—”
“Silence, unless I ask you a direct question.” His brow furrowed and Caria squirmed under his intense scrutiny. She fought the urge to speak again, to explain her fears and plead with him for leniency.
At last Phahlen broke the silence. “Omission of a material fact is every bit as dishonest as an outright lie. Would you not agree, Caria?”
Resentment surged, but she suppressed her angry retort. “Yes, sir, as a rule. But—”
“A simple yes or no is fine. So, you chose not to inform me of your condition. Is that also correct?”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered.
“Speak up, Caria. Is that also correct?”
“Yes,” she affirmed, meeting his gaze. Let him do his worst. She knew by now he wouldn’t kill her, nor would he do her serious harm as that would impede his own plans. She tilted her chin in an overt show of defiance.
“Thank you. So, no doubt you had a persuasive reason for this act of deception. Would you share that with me now, please?”
“I… I…” Caria struggled to articulate the trepidation that had kept her silent. He must know how much he intimidated her. It had to be deliberate on his part and as much as anything that was why she was reluctant to afford him the satisfaction of confessing as much to him. “It was private, and—”
“You have no privacy now, Caria.”
And didn’t she know it? That examination was proof enough. She tilted her chin again but offered no comment.
“Is that it? Have you no more to say to me?”
“No, sir.”
“You surprise me, Caria. I had expected to hear of your fears that once I learnt of your infertility I might find myself with no use for you after all. I don’t flatter myself that you harbour any real enthusiasm for your new station, but the alternatives are perhaps even less palatable. I believe you thought to avoid a worse fate by pretending acceptance of my terms. Am I right?”
Caria flattened her mouth, determined not to answer if she could help it.
“So, despite agreeing with me just now that omission of the truth is as culpable as lying to me, you still persist. You disappoint me, Caria.”
That remark stung her into offering something. Anything. “I… I had no idea what was wrong, that there even was anything wrong with me. I thought that maybe I was just unlucky.”
He shook his head. “You knew, or at least you suspected. I wondered why you were so tense, but it’s all clear enough now. You knew we’d discover the truth, just as I’m discovering it now despite your best efforts. Shall we cease this game, Caria?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Liar. I suggest you stop now before you make an already precarious situation infinitely worse.” He paused and watched her.
Caria felt not unlike a mouse caught in a cat’s claws, helpless and unable to escape, an unwitting plaything.
Phahlen continued. “I understand fear well enough, Caria, and I know it can drive us all to make poor decisions. You have no reason, yet, to trust me and it may surprise you to learn I understand why you kept this information to yourself. I might have done the same in your situation. It’s your insistence on clinging to this falsehood, though, which concerns me now. I need to know what you’re thinking and feeling, otherwise I will not be in a position to take care of you.”
“Take care of me?” Caria couldn’t contain her snort of derision. “You call abduction, imprisonment, and assault taking care of me? Please, Commander, do not trouble yourself further on my behalf.”
His eyes narrowed, and Caria knew she had gone too far. This Vahlean had made it clear how he would deal with insubordination and she had no reason to suppose he would welcome her sarcasm either. She stepped backward, her instinct to put more distance between herself and his anger.
Phahlen rose from his seat and came around the desk. He stopped and leaned one hip on the edge, watching as Caria edged further away. He said nothing, just pointed to a spot on the floor about two feet in front of him.
Caria’s brief flirtation with bravado evaporated. He would spank her again, or worse. No one on board this ship would help her, there was no escape. Slowly, her eyes on the floor, she returned to stand on the spot he indicated.
She was surprised when he placed two fingers under her chin and tipped her face up so he could meet her gaze. His eyes were stern, but not unkind. Perhaps he did understand after all.
“How long did you expect your deception to last, Caria? Did you imagine you might get away with it, even?”
“No, sir,” she whispered. “I, I didn’t think it through.” That, at least, was true. Her actions had been on the spur of the moment.
“Didn’t you? I’m not so sure. I wonder if you perhaps thought to make your escape before your little charade was discovered.”
“No, sir, I—”
“Caria…” The warning in his tone was beyond misinterpretation. And yet again he had scored a direct hit.
“I… I believed I might… That you…”
“Quite. But that’s not going to happen. You’re going nowhere unless I permit it, and the sooner you reconcile yourself to that reality, the better. The thrashing I’ll give you in a few minutes, for lying to me, will be nothing compared to the one you’ll receive for an escape attempt. Do not even contemplate such a foolhardy course, Caria. It really isn’t worth it.” He released her face from his light grip and tilted his head to one side. “Before we proceed, there’s another matter I need to discuss with you.”
Caria’s heart sank. What else had she done to anger him?
“You mentioned a partner, a male who died in the crash?”
“Yes, sir.” Caria was puzzled. She had not anticipated this line of enquiry.
“What was his name?”
“He was called Petros. He was a cook, sir.”
“A useful skill, though I tend to rely on the food synthesiser. Did you love him?”
Caria had no idea how to answer, or what Phahlen was looking for here. In view of his recent warnings, she opted for the truth. “Of course. He was very good to me.” That sounded lukewarm, she supposed, and perhaps it was. Petros was good enough, when he wasn’t flirting with every female he met who had a pulse.
“You must miss him.”
Caria pondered that for a moment or two, surprised to realise that actually, she didn’t. Not much.
“It was… a shock, but with everything else that happened to me I hardly had a chance to think about it.”
“You may think about it now, Caria, and if you need to mourn for this Petros of yours, I will understand that and make allowances. But you are mine now. Is that quite clear?”
She raised her gaze to his. “Yes, Commander. Perfectly clear.”
He gestured with his chin toward the food station. “Now, you will go to the housekeeping portal and request a strap. Leather, I think, perhaps a metre in length to allow for it to be doubled. It will need to be fairly heavy for the lesson I intend to impart.”
Caria did not move. She remained where she was, stunned. A strap? He intended to take a strap to her over this?
“No, please, I never—”
“Do it now, girl.” His voice hardened. His eyes were dark already, almost black, but they glinted his steely intent.
Caria felt sick. She would never be able to bear this, she just knew it. So much for not showing weakness before him—she was already sobbing, ready to plead with him not to do this.
Phahlen took her face between his hands and forced her to look at him again. His image blurred before her eyes but she couldn’t look away. “This will soon be over, little human, and you need to learn. Go, now, and fetch me a strap.”
There was nothing else for it, no mistaking the implacable resolve in his gaze. When he stepped back and released her, Caria turned and made her way to the food station.
“A leather strap, please. It… it needs to be a metre long.” Her voice wavered but the instruction was clear enough. The
object materialised a few moments later, coiled inside the serving hatch. Caria removed it and carried it back to Phahlen. She offered it to him.
“On your knees, girl.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Offer it to me on your knees, Caria.”
With a soft moan, Caria sank to kneel in front of him. She held the strap up, draped across the palms of both her hands.
“Thank you. Very nicely done.” He took it from her. “And now, I want you to remove your wrap and lean over my desk.”
Caria shook her head and covered her face in her hands. “I can’t. Please don’t. Please, sir, don’t…”
He crouched in front of her and took both her hands in his. “If you can’t yet believe in me and trust me not to harm you, then believe in yourself. You survived a spanking earlier, and you survived that medical examination. You’ll survive this too, and you’ll learn from it. Next time you consider lying to me or concealing the truth, you’ll remember how you’re feeling right now. Won’t you? And you’ll be honest with me.”
“I will. I promise I will, just—”
“No, Caria. You earned a punishment and you shall have one. Let’s make it quick, shall we?”
How quick? She didn’t dare to ask, and stumbled as she attempted to get to her feet. Phahlen caught her elbow and assisted her up. He tilted his head in the direction of the desk. No words were necessary.
Caria started to lean over the desk, then remembered his instruction about the wrap. Less concerned with her nudity now, she removed it and looked around for a place to put it down. Phahlen held out his hand and she gave it to him. He moved aside to allow her to pass him.
Caria stretched her body over the cool surface of the desk. Her breasts flattened against the unyielding top so she started to tuck her arms under her.
“No. Stretch out to grip the opposite edge. Pull yourself up onto your toes, lift your bottom up for me, and tell me when you are ready.”
Even fleeing from the Galeians as they played out their parody of a hunt had not scared her as much as this did. She had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable. More utterly alone. But she obeyed him. She had no choice.
“I am ready, sir,” she murmured, her entire body rigid as she waited for the first stroke to land.
Phahlen didn’t keep her waiting long. Caria screamed as pain exploded across her right buttock, the searing streak of pure flame snaking over her skin. She started to rise.
“Stay there.”
His voice stilled her, cold and clipped and quite terrifying. Caria grasped the edge of the table tighter and gritted her teeth. How much more could she take?
The next stroke landed on her left cheek, and was followed swiftly by a third. Phahlen seemed to be placing the stripes one below the other, alternating between her right and left sides. The fourth scorched her left buttock again. Caria screamed with each one, though her cries were lessening. By the time he thrashed the backs of both her thighs in rapid succession she lay limp across his desk and whimpered her desperate apologies. The pain was excruciating, beyond anything she had imagined.
“Enough. You may stand now.”
What? Caria couldn’t believe it. He was done. Was he? She didn’t move, didn’t dare to.
“Do you need me to help you up, little human?” His voice was softer now, kinder. More encouraging still, there was a thud as he dropped the awful strap onto the desk beside her.
Caria opened her eyes, and sure enough the leather lay just a couple of feet from her nose, redundant now. She relaxed her deathly grip on the opposite edge of the desk and tried to gain leverage with her arms. Her entire body hurt, her bottom was aflame. The will to get to her feet seemed to be lacking.
Strong hands took hold of her shoulders and raised her from the desk. Her legs gave way and he caught her, lifted her into his arms, and carried her across the room. He passed through another door and into his sleeping chamber. Caria had seen this part of his quarters earlier as she explored the rooms, but had not wished to remain in there. This room made her very nervous. Or it had. Now as he laid her on the huge circular bed, careful to position her on her side, she relished the seductive comfort it offered.
“You did well. You may sleep now.”
“I thought… I mean, I never expected—”
“I know what you thought, and what you expected. Punishment needs to be harsh in order to make the point, but never too much. Vahle is a stern society, but a just one. I expect to have frequent cause to chastise you, and you will be punished again when you deserve it. Even so, I hope you will never have cause to think me unduly cruel.”
Caria could only stare at him, confused. She hated Phahlen, feared him, resented his high-handed mastery more than she could articulate even to herself. But still, there was some elusive quality to this implacable alien, something she found hard to name. She would think about it later, when she was less sore, less tired, less inclined to dissolve into helpless tears.
Phahlen stroked the tangled hair away from her face. He stood and looked down at her for a few moments, then he left the room. She heard his low voice requesting something from the hospitality station, then he was back. He carried a small pot in his hand.
“This anti-inflammatory cream will do nothing to reduce your discomfort right now, you need to experience that in order to gain the full benefit from my attentions, but it will help to ensure the pain is relatively short-lived. By tomorrow you’ll be fine. Roll onto your stomach, please.”
Caria knew better than to protest. If he wanted to hurt her, he would. It was that simple. But she believed him that he intended to help her so she rolled over as he directed.
She flinched as he smeared the ointment across her tender, punished skin. It was cool though, and a welcome balm in contrast to the heat radiating from her abused bottom. The thrashing with the strap had been dire, the worst experience of her life, especially coming on top of the spanking. She had been sore already, now she grunted with pain as he touched her.
He traced each of her six stripes, drawing his gentle fingers along the length of them and working the cream into her marks. It hurt like fuck but was oddly soothing, too. Caria closed her eyes and allowed herself to explore the outer reaches of her consciousness, seeking the word to describe this. It eluded her, danced just beyond her reach, teasing her from a distance, darting in as though inviting her to grasp it, then shimmering away.
She groaned, tears leaked again. A soft kiss to the nape of her neck and a murmured ‘rest now, little human’ were the only signals that she was not alone. As she drifted off to sleep, Caria knew. She caught it, that slippery, fleeting thing she was trying to capture. Now, she had it.
She was cared for.
* * *
She woke, refreshed. Caria had no idea how long she’d slept, but it had been a deep and fulfilling period of rest. Had her captor perhaps given her something to make her sleep? She thought not, but could never be certain around him. She was fast learning he would do as he pleased as far as she was concerned.
A cover lay over her still nude body. She was as near certain as she could be that it had not been there when she fell asleep, so he must have been back to check on her. She could hear no sounds from the outer chamber so she assumed she was alone in his quarters.
And, she was ravenous.
Caria sat up, and was amazed to find her bottom was still tender, but no more than that. The fearsome whipping must have left marks though, and she wanted to inspect the damage. She hauled herself to her feet and tottered off in the direction of the cubicle set aside for ablutions. A camera set into the wall provided her with a perfect view of her rear end, and she was astonished to see just a faint stain of pink there, certainly not the vivid, angry welts she’d anticipated.
Perhaps her alien was not as heavy-handed as she imagined. Or maybe that cream had worked. She pondered this as she stood under the aqueous shower again, water streaming through her hair. The combination of a deep sleep and an invigorati
ng shower served to sharpen her appetite further, and by the time she padded across to the hospitality station wrapped in a huge, thick towel, she believed she could have eaten a Galeian’s tail.
Not that she would order such a thing. “Breakfast, please. To include meat products and caffeine.”
“Please specify.” The device appeared far less cooperative that it had for Phahlen.
“Bacon, and, and …”
“Try the eggs Benedict. I gather it’s a popular Earth delicacy.” Phahlen appeared behind her, the outer portal sliding closed at his rear.
“I wanted bacon. Am I allowed—?”
“That too.” He leaned past her to operate the food station. “We’ll have two portions of eggs Benedict. No, make that three. With bacon, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Fresh coffee too, with synthacream and sucrose substitute on the side.” He turned to face her, his smile lopsided. “I had some Terran nutritional data input into the system. If you have particular preferences just let me know and I’ll have those added too.”
“Thank you.” Caria’s mouth watered as the food crystallised before her. The aromas were every bit as appetising as the overall presentation. “Petros used to make a fabulous morning meal…” She paused, uncertain if she should mention her past life.
Phahlen merely smiled. “I shall endeavour to live up to his high standards. Shall we eat?”
The meal was companionable, a fact that Caria found nothing short of astounding. The Vahlean was pleasant, attentive, and she found him to be excellent company. He was happy to chat to her about Solarian literature, hoped she had slept well, and enquired after her general state of well-being. Caria was at a loss.
“I… I am fine, sir,” she managed at last. It was not entirely true, but neither did it seem too outlandish a claim. She was alive, pleasantly full, no part of her anatomy hurt unduly. Her captor seemed inclined to consider her comfort, and he could be kind when he chose to be. Her standards might have slipped in recent months, but yes, she was ready to settle for that.
