“No one asked you to do anything,” Eryn reminded her. “It’s been made clear the Primarians are a male-dominant race, and they expect their women to submit to their authority. All of this is explained in the brochure and contract, but, still, you signed up. I urge you all to remember this is a voluntary program.” Her gaze drifted over the group before coming to Devon. Though intended for all of them, she wanted to be certain the woman got the message this time. “If being submissive to a man is a sticking point, there is the door. I suggest you take it.”
“And stay here, roasting in the triple-digit heat until the big one hits New York?” she groused. “That’s not much of a choice.”
“There are plenty of applicants who don’t have a problem with the Primarian’s old-fashioned ways. If you prefer to withdraw, there are applications in the back to move to the colony when it’s ready.”
“Which will take how long?” Devon snapped. “Months? Years? A full decade?”
“Things are progressing. I’m sure it won’t be decades.”
“But it could be years,” she surmised, deflating. “I’m so screwed.”
Eryn never gave predictions or promises because she couldn’t. Although Devon had it right; it would probably be several years until her name came up on a waiting list. Those moved in first would be prioritized. Skilled workers and professionals who could provide a needed service would be admitted ahead of the general population. Her only chance to leave Earth anytime soon was as a mate.
The girl next to her patted her arm. “It can’t be all bad. Be good, obey the rules, and he will have no cause to punish you.”
Devon shot her a horrified look before twisting to face front again. “So, they can abuse us however they like and we have no say?”
“No.” Eryn sighed, her patience waning. “And you’d know this if you’d read the agreement.” Devon’s blush said plainly she’d signed without thoroughly going over the very detailed documents as she’d been advised to do. With an exasperated breath, she went on. “This is a new world; the Primarians are a different race. It’s not like moving cross-country from L.A. to New York.” Again, she stared at her troublemaker—every class had at least one. “To hit the high points for anyone else who didn’t read the brochure, once mated you will become a Primarian citizen and be subject to their laws in addition to their social code and rules for conduct. The details of which are outlined in the intro packet.” Her gaze cut to Devon who shifted in her seat. “The male is the undisputed head of the household in their culture, and, as such, he is also the disciplinarian. Punishment, if earned, is up to his discretion, within limits. It can, and often is corporal in nature, but abuse is strictly forbidden and punishable by law.”
“I don’t understand. Do you mean they can hit us?” one of the blondes pressed.
“Not hit. Spank,” Eryn clarified. “They believe there is a difference and don’t see it as abuse.”
Devon snorted in disbelief. “In what world is spanking not abuse?”
“For goodness sake, have you been living under a rock?” Marion, one of the older women exclaimed from the back row. She had been quiet up until this point, although Devon, the Barbies, and this persistent line of questioning had obviously pushed her buttons. “On our world, for one. Turning a recalcitrant child or woman over the knee has been around since the Stone Age and has continued throughout history. Corporal punishment has existed in schools for years, Victorian men commonly birched a wayward wife or servant in their household, and with the rise of kinky bondage play near the end of the twentieth century, spanking, paddling, and flogging became commonplace, almost the norm. It’s still common today, and both men and women are into it.”
“For sex, not punishment,” Devon shot back.
The speaker, who seemed to have extensive knowledge on the subject, much more so than Eryn, cast the younger girl a cutting glance while shaking her head. “You can’t possibly be so naïve. Were none of you disciplined over a parent’s knee as children? Or swatted by a boyfriend or spouse? Whether for play or for real, it exists to this day, on Earth, and on the other side of the galaxy. You can suck it up or stay here and take your chances. It’s as simple as that.” Having said her peace, Marion turned to Eryn. “Can we move on now?”
Eryn wanted to kiss the woman for taking the hot seat for her. And she was spot-on in her succinct analysis considering the number of nods and murmured yeses coming from the others. One girl with pigtails who didn’t look old enough to become a mate raised her hand as though in school.
“You don’t have to raise your hand,” Eryn told her gently.
“Oh, well… I just wanted to say Marion is right. It does go on. My daddy took a switch to me when I broke curfew and came home drunk a few times during my senior year.”
Eryn had guessed it; eighteen, nineteen at the most. So young, yet the criteria for application specified single women, between eighteen and forty, without known fertility issues, with both proof of age, and a medical exam required prior to acceptance, had to be past the age of consent and, considering Daddy and his switch, maybe not so innocent.
Nonetheless, Eryn needed to ensure they all understood the rules. “A switch is prohibited on Primaria. A spanking on your bare bottom, however, is allowed, if not expected, for coming home drunk. That behavior wouldn’t be acceptable to a Primarian male, either.”
“There’s no drinking?” one participant gasped in alarm. “No beer? No wine? I might have to reconsider.”
Eryn found it amazing what different women keyed on as important.
“I didn’t say no spirits. They have this wonderful fermented fruit juice called vilo. It packs quite a punch. And, they have their own version of marijuana. It’s prohibited, though it’s rumored some of the elders partake, so I don’t think it’s firmly enforced. But don’t quote me on it. I’ll deny it down to my last Doritos crumb.”
Her munchie joke prompted another round of laughter.
“What happened between you and your alien?” Marion, who so adeptly handled the spanking debate, asked.
This was another question posed at every session, although deeply personal and no one’s business but her own, she had no doubt it would be asked, yet Eryn never seemed quite prepared for it.
“Yeah,” Devon chimed in. “They’re all hot, the ones I’ve seen, at least, and their old-fashioned protectiveness, wow, that really gets me going—except the spanking business, of course. And the stories and descriptions I’ve heard make Primaria sound like a beautiful fantasyland come true. So, why didn’t you stay?”
“I’m a career soldier and had a mission to complete. I came back to help all of you.”
“Weren’t you tempted? By the one who spanked you, perhaps?” This softly spoken question also came from Marion, the astute brunette, at least thirty-five by her estimate, with a gleam of keen interest and intelligence in her eyes. Her motivation unclear to Eryn at this point, if nothing else, she seemed to have foregone any silly expectations, and was neither dreamy-eyed like the Barbies, nor fearful like Devon. She seemed pragmatic, and Eryn suspected she would have made a good soldier, and reminded her a lot of herself.
“Yes.” She stood. “Except we didn’t match well, and duty called. I’m sorry, but our time is up for today. We’ll have another forum tomorrow at six if you have more questions. Those ready to proceed to phase two, which includes a preliminary contract, physical, and a few lab tests, Sarah, at the table in the back, is here to assist and get you scheduled.”
Some applauded and a few thank yous could be heard when the group rose and began to split apart. Marion, along with the older brunette who had sat by her side without saying a word the entire time, the Barbie twins, the bubbly redhead, and the timid teenager moved without hesitation toward Sarah.
They would be fine, not put off by the spanking discussion in the least. She would have liked to reassure them it wasn’t all bad, but maybe they already knew. Although a new twist for her, some of the other crew members hadn�
�t seemed surprised by their disciplinary measures, and admitted to having participated in what one of them referred to as a little slap and tickle for fun. She’d been the first from Odyssey to volunteer to stay on, shrugging when Mailynn, also newly mated, and Eva, who had run similar Q&A’s back on Primaria, had explained that sometimes the males punished for real.
Seemed Eryn had led a more sheltered life. She knew kinky people existed in the world, but she’d never been one of them, or so she thought. She’d been stunned when her introductory experience had left her warm and tingling. But the sample swats Ram had given her while over his shoulder were merely a preview. She’d expected it to hurt, which it did, but it had also been a sensual experience.
She’d never forget his unwavering confidence when he took her hand in his, lowered her over his lap, and positioned her just so. Then he’d bared her, and, while holding her securely, his fingers had gently stroked her bottom and the backs of her thighs. Both horrified and excited over how much a spanking made her senses come alive, other things stood out in her memory and repeated often in both her daydreams and fantasies. Like the way his big hands handled her with care, but the skin felt slightly rough against her skin, and how the hardness of his thighs pressing into her belly sent her heart racing. And when she breathed deep, how his intoxicating scent surrounded and entranced her.
Then, as now, her nipples tightened and wetness pooled between her legs.
“Will you lock up, Eryn?” Sarah’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Pardon?” She glanced around, surprised to find the room empty except for them.
“Are you okay?” She took a step closer, concern creasing her brow.
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“You were standing here, staring off. And during class, you seemed…” Sarah paused, searching for the right word. “Distracted.”
Worse words had come to Eryn’s mind, like loopy, ditzy, and most of all, horny, all normal effects of pregnancy according to her books. She waved her coworker’s worries aside. “With all the recent changes and everything happening so fast, I suppose I am.” She didn’t elaborate upon seeing Sarah’s concerned expression. “I’m fine, really. Did you get many takers for phase two?”
“Oh, yes, fifteen signed up. That’s better than half, so a good night. But it put me behind schedule, and I need to get home for my sitter. Do you mind cleaning up and locking the doors when you go?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thanks, Eryn, you’re the best,” she called, waving as she rushed out.
It didn’t take long to set the room to rights, gather the few stray coffee cups, and straighten the chairs then shutting off the lights. When she walked out into the muggy night air, an MP—military police from base security—waited beside his Jeep HC3.
“There’s been a disturbance at the main gate, ma’am. The major assigned escorts to all personnel this evening.”
“I only have two blocks to walk, Corporal.”
“We’re under strict orders, you understand,” he replied politely, although his business-like tone made it clear she didn’t have a choice.
“Of course, although my plain clothes don’t say so, I’m in the service as well.”
“I know, Chief Lockwood. I’ve followed your story.”
How could she forget the returning crew of Odyssey had been, and still were, headline news?
“Was anyone hurt in this disturbance?” She climbed into the open vehicle. The hovercraft started soundlessly with the push of a button and whisked her across the square in minutes.
“A few protesters with signs, but they were quickly disbursed,” the young officer replied. “Afterward, someone discovered a few flyers which bothered the alien commander. He ordered security tightened.”
Roth would do that. In addition to Maggie, he had his own people to protect, and almost five hundred prospective mates already on-site and awaiting the first transport.
The Jeep pulled to her curb as several other vehicles whizzed by, their electric engines whisper-soft and easily drowned out by the sound of boots on the street. About a dozen men, a combination of soldiers and warriors, the latter towering over their Army counterparts, followed on foot. Eryn stepped into the shadows. Out of habit, she scanned the faces of the alien men. None were Ram.
With a mix of relief and disappointment, she nodded to her escort. He didn’t notice, still watching the group of warriors, an odd, almost-strained expression on his face as they moved past.
She verbalized her sentiment this time. “Thank you for the ride home, Corporal.”
“Anytime, Chief.” His handsome features relaxed as he pulled his gaze away and turned back to her. “If I may say so, ma’am, I think those of you who were captured, convinced an alien society we have value enough to save, and then came back to lead the transition, are heroes. So are the women who stayed to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
Surreptitiously, her hand moved to her belly. “You mean by mating with the Primarians?”
“Yes.” He shuddered. “How awful for them. I liken it to bestiality, which is a horrific sin.”
She flinched at his words and sudden change in demeanor. “They’re not animals, Corporal.”
“They aren’t human, either. And interspecies mating—” His face twisted into a grimace of total revulsion. “How is it any different from doing it with a goat or a dog?”
Tense with anger, she exited the vehicle. “You have a narrow-minded perspective on the universe, I must say.”
“Yeah?” His eyes cut to where she stood in the open door, seeming surprised by her reaction. “I believe procreation should occur between a woman and a man, not some giant alien creatures from a far-off galaxy we know nothing about. Sorry.” He shrugged, seeming sincere in his bias. “But it’s how I feel. Of course, what others choose to do, if it saves the rest of our asses, I’m all for them taking the hit.”
“How gracious of you,” she drawled, not attempting to mask her derision. Her gaze dipped to his identification badge, committing his name and number to memory. “I appreciate you making your viewpoint known. Good night, Corporal Douglas.”
She’d be passing his insights along at once. Only open-minded, accepting people needed to be involved with EPIC and the Primarian emissaries. Eager to leave his intolerant company, she didn’t linger and hurried inside.
7
Later that night, with Lana gone for the evening on some EPIC assignment, Eryn brewed a cup of honeyed-tea and slipped into a warm bath, hoping, with the apartment quiet, she’d be able to fall asleep afterward. Despite this, it eluded her as she found herself replaying the probing questions asked by the women earlier today and the troubling interaction with the MP.
Change was hard, and heaven knew she’d fought it tooth and nail when she’d been captured, but now potential mates had options and, because of it, hope. Most of their leaders had accepted the idea of integrating their two species with the end result meaning salvation for the people of Earth. But they didn’t go blindly forward. Instead, they asked questions and demanded facts and proof. And they wanted the women, the ones most impacted by the treaty, to have the same information—which had spawned the informational sessions being held around the world.
Such a different lifestyle would take some getting used to. It hadn’t worked out for her, but stories had filtered back from those who’d stayed, of the happiness they’d found with their warriors and the Primarian way of life. Having come to know Roth and seeing how joyful Maggie had become from being his mate, who could say their way wasn’t better? They certainly had one up on humans when it came to taking care of the world entrusted to them.
She couldn’t imagine their Princep allowing his people to destroy their home with all its beauty and natural resources. And for the most part, in her experience, even the xenophobic Purists who represented the worst of their people cared about the citizens and took pride in their planet. Except for the mine explosion, a diversion allowing them time to escape,
they’d never suggested using violence or force. It made her question if someone else had been behind that part of the plan, or if the Purist leader she’d met with had simply chosen to keep it from her. She also wondered if they had disclosed the source of the diversion to her, would it have changed her decision to go along with them.
She hoped she would have said no, but with escape the only option, she couldn’t be sure. Looking back, it came as no surprise she’d been identified as a prime target, a means to an end. Through her unguarded tongue and resistant behavior, she’d made it known she had no intention of complying or acclimating to a new life. They’d sought her out for this reason but never with violence as part of the plan.
No matter the society or how advanced and benevolent they thought themselves, a dissentious element could arise over something they didn’t accept or understand. Earth didn’t lack protestors and dissenters. Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten violent so far, not like the mine sabotage on Primaria.
She had mixed emotions about her own resistance, especially after the treaty. Never in a million years would she have thought it would end up this way. A win-win for both of their species. Through her actions, however, she’d burned bridges and made enemies. Sadly, Ram was one of them.
With a slight headache building behind her eyes from her racing thoughts, Eryn opted to turn on the vid-screen for some mindless drivel to give her besieged brain a rest.
“Guide.” Her options appeared on the multi-dimensional viewer. She bypassed sci-fi and horror; she’d had enough of the former and the latter wasn’t her thing.
“Rom-com.” When she picked one of the hundreds of romantic comedy titles at random, she snuggled beneath her soft cashmere throw on the couch. As the opening credits rolled, she settled in, determined to lose herself in a story of love, romance, and flirtation, something that didn’t exist in her world, and probably never would again.
His Rebellious Mate (Primarian Mates Book 3) Page 8
