She licked her lips. "Do we have to wait until the next decedonner to do that again?"
They'd turned out the lights so she couldn't see his face, but she sensed his smiling back at her. "No, you can have a 'good wife' spanking any time you want. Just drape yourself across my lap and tell me your bottom needs attention."
Now she welcomed the dark so he couldn't see how red her face had gotten. Could she ever bring herself to do that? Of course with other men she'd often taken the first step towards sex, but never this way. She hadn't listened closely when Shalimerie spoke as though women liked the activity, feeling the others must just be pretending, but now she saw how it might be true. While her mind still reeled, the rest of her gave over to sleep.
The next days passed uneventfully, leaving Janet fine but bored. When someone knocked on her door shortly after Martel left one morning, she sprang to answer it. Even Elondelle would be a distraction from the silence.
Instead a rotund woman wearing a bright turquoise tunic smiled at her over large glasses. "Meisin," she announced holding out a chubby hand. "I must be at the school in ten minutes unless I want to mark myself tardy, but I wanted to stop by. Shalimerie said you might be interested in helping us out with the reading and literature classes."
"Well, yes." Barely had Janys gotten the words out when the school mistress dumped three books into her hands.
"These are what we have been using for textbooks. Of course our classes are so small you may have to teach from all of them, so I thought I should give you a head start. Can you join us the day after Planetfall?"
"I guess so." Janys looked dubiously at the stack. Her vision of teaching involved reading a favorite book to a circle of rapt children. Now it looked like she'd have everything from kids learning to write their name to older students preparing essays. Grades? Tests? This was going to be a lot more complicated than she'd thought.
"Good. We will start you part-time." The school mistress named an hourly rate more generous than Janys expected. "If it works out, we can expand your duties." Before she could say goodbye, Meisin's sturdy legs flew off towards the school.
Janys carried the textbooks into the living room and began looking at them. Within a few minutes, she wanted to give up. Even the materials for the youngest students contained Demetian references she didn't know, and she hadn't heard of most of the writers mentioned in the highest level class. "They'll end up teaching me," she confessed to Shalimerie when her friend dropped by to find out her plans for Master Rodogan's party.
. "The textbooks are the same as I used, so I can help you out with lesson plans for the little ones." The other woman rifled through one of the books. "Most of the stories are right here, so why not just start reading them?"
"Of course I can do that, but I think I should know more about the authors. For example, Master Dardannon." She pointed to a name in the Table of Contents. "It says in the biography section he wrote a novel considered the most important work of literature on the planet, yet it's never been published off world. I couldn't have read it if I wanted to."
"No, the Elders generally do not allow writings to be distributed outside our communities," Shalimerie acknowledged. "Sometimes they make an exception for those not involving our customs—Mistress Alexandrine published fairy tales—but if people want to write about their lives, the books stay here. But Rodogan should have a complete collection. At the party, you could ask him to borrow them."
"I guess I'll just have to plow through as much of this as I can before then." Although she'd spent many hours reading reports and gathering information, never before had Janys forced herself to read fiction. Yet she found herself enjoying the stories, and through them began absorbing different aspects of Borocovian life than she'd found doing sociological research.
The night of the party, Martel came home early from work. "Are you sure you can get your nose out of those books long enough to come with me?"
"Wouldn't miss it." While she still wasn't sure she felt up to meeting all of Wyteen society at once, she couldn't wait to acquaint herself with Rodogan's library.
"Then put on your best tunic and fix your hair."
"Shalimerie said she'd help me with it if we stopped by their house," Janys told him nonchalantly, trying not to betray her nervousness at making plans for them as a couple. Until now, she'd just followed Martel's lead. "Also if Alicitia decides to babysit for them instead of going herself, they'll walk over with us."
"Let us hope it works out so they can come along. I can introduce you to many people tonight, but Shalimerie knows the women better," he smiled, apparently pleased by her arrangements.
They arrived to hear Shalimerie shouting behind the door. She flung it open, revealing a gray-haired woman whose red face suggested she'd been doing her share of the yelling. "You know Master Martel," Shalimerie said tiredly. "This is his wife, Mistress Janys. Janys, Mistress Lollegan. My mother."
For the first time since she'd landed on Demeter, Janys found a person with absolutely no interest in her, either as an offworlder or person of notoriety. Instead Mistress Lollegan glared, apparently incensed they'd interrupted the argument. "Shalimerie!" she snapped.
"We will deal with this later, Mother. Right now I need to help Janys with her hair. Come." Shalimerie practically dragged her to the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.
"Is Chardontal here?" Janys asked cautiously.
"No. Kronitin whisked him away the second we raised our voices." The other woman began pulling combs out of drawers. "In some ways it is good my mother came for a visit, because Alicitia decided not to miss her first grown-up party, but I will have to wait for Kronitin to come back before we can attend."
"You're going to leave Chardontal with—" Janys fell silent. Being childless, she knew she didn't have the right to give advice, but she doubted she'd feel secure having Mistress Lollegan look after her son.
Shalimerie nodded. "She loves him deeply. I am the one who causes her problems. And Kronitin, whom she still will not speak to. But enough of that! Tonight should be a time of welcome for you! Let us see what we can do to make you even more beautiful."
She'd never understand how Shalimerie could coax hair into such smooth curves, held back by artfully placed combs. Finally her friend gave her permission to model the final result for Martel. "What do you think?"
"I think both of you ladies will outshine all others," he replied, giving Janys a quick kiss. She'd taken special care to wash and press his tunic. Although she hadn't viewed the entire male population of Wyteen, she knew no one could look more handsome than her husband.
"Do you have a hairbrush for touch-ups?" Shalimerie asked. Janys nodded and pointed to the new laniter belt. A cross between a purse and fanny pack worn sideways, it circled her waist under her tunic. Depending on her needs, she could keep it on, accessing it through a special divide on the tunic, or slip it off. Martel had bought it for her to celebrate her new freedom to roam around the community by herself.
"We will try to get there as soon as possible. In the meantime, be sparing with the mulled winnotal. Mistress Nilanerian uses a secret recipe, and too much will knock you on the floor." Shalimerie waved them down the path. From the look on Lollegan's face, Janys thought it unlikely the woman ever touched a drop of the stuff.
Although Janys wanted to ask about her friend's family troubles, she assumed Martel would just refer her back to Shalimerie. Instead they walked silently along the path, the night air cooler than before as the tilt of Demeter's axis lessened the impact of the suns. Although she could barely remember her Christmases on Earth, she'd always associated cold with holidays.
They came to a house much older even than the one Elondelle and Zellin owned, complete with an old-fashioned swing in the front yard. A beaming man with glasses on his nose threw open the door. "Our first guests! This must be Mistress Janys!" he boomed, giving her a hug. "Come in, my new friend!"
He whirled her over the threshold, setting her down in front of a wi
llowy woman with short dark hair. "My wife, Mistress Nilanerian."
"Just call me Nila." Dark brown eyes sparkled at Janys over an impish smile reminding her of Shalimerie. "We've so glad you're here. Rod's been trying to start a book group for ages, but we couldn't get Martel to come."
"I had work to do," Martel protested. "Besides, you kept trying to make me read all those Earth novels from hundreds of years ago where the names change every few pages."
"What about you, Janys? How do you feel about Tolstoy? Dostoevsky?" The host grabbed her arm. "No, Martel told us you like mysteries. Raymond Chandler? Lawrence Block? Or Nogelxx 3-469 from Siri XII?"
"Some of the above," she laughed. "But right now I'm interested in catching up on Demetian writers."
"Got that too. Everything including—well, some lesser known folks." He dropped his eyes.
"Look at him, pretending to be modest." Nila rolled her eyes at Janys. "If by some miracle you managed to avoid seeing the five books on the center shelf, you probably couldn't miss the blow up of the review from—"
Rodogan lightly smacked her behind. "As I will not miss THIS with my cane tonight!" Nila threw her arms around his neck and planted a big kiss on his lips. He cupped her bottom and lifted her to him, then broke away. "Can you believe it?" he asked Martel. "Married over fifty decedonners, and I still have to spank her thoroughly almost every day."
She giggled, then caught Janys's arm. "Let's get you two something to drink before mean old Roddy starts threatening both of us with his toys."
"Who are you calling 'old'–" her husband grabbed for her, but a noise from down the path distracted him. "I will settle with you later!" he promised as Nila steered Janys and Martel towards the kitchen where a large pot simmered.
"Hot winnotal," the hostess announced. "Or if you prefer, as Rod says we have less 'potent potables'."
"We can both have one cup," Martel allowed. "But after that we will be switching to juice or water. Nila, you know how much I enjoy your recipe—"
"But caution is advisable. I know." She began ladling out the beverages.
Janys accepted the delicate earthenware, sipping its contents as Nila showed them the two food tables before resuming her role as a greeter. Although the Demetian delicacies looked wonderful, she decided to wait a while before eating as the drink warmed her.
As soon as Martel returned with his plate, she leaned over and whispered, "Nila's obviously an offworlder. She's still not picked up the formal way of talking."
"True." He crunched on an unknown vegetable. "Though Rodogan did so. But then his father was our last resident Ambassador from the Protectorate, and he lived here as a boy. He left with his family with the transition ended, and we doubted he would ever return. Yet one day he was back with a new bride and a shuttle full of books."
"Does she—fit in here?"
"Well enough, I suppose." As he considered the matter, others arrived, and Janys bent closer so they wouldn't be overheard. "No one sees much of either of them. She paints while he writes, and every few decedonners they spend time at the university teaching a few classes. Early on they had trouble with the Council over a punishment Rodogan refused to carry out, and my mother suspects they just play lip service to many of our customs."
"Really?" From the way Rodogan and Nila talked, Janys figured they'd embrace bibalons and everything else. "You mean he doesn't actually do anything to her?"
Her husband raised an eyebrow. "Yes, he certainly does. Before you decide to trade me for someone who can keep all those names straight, you should know I have seen her pretty little bottom blistered with a variety of things. I would be very surprised if we got through this evening without his demonstrating his latest acquisition. But from what I gather, she loves it as much as he does."
Janys shook her head as she drank down the last of the winnotal. Here she'd thought she'd found someone more like her than Shalimerie, but she couldn't begin to understand her new friend's attitude. "She loves being punished?"
"I doubt she ever gets punished," he told her matter-of-factly. "That was the problem they had with the Council. No, he spanks her hard and often, and sometimes she does protest or pretend to fight him, but except for that one time the Council ordered down in the square, they always seem to be enjoying themselves."
Janys had other questions, but the room started to fill with people, many looking vaguely familiar. She clasped hands with most, trying to remember each one. Except for tradespeople like Mistress Kelusia and Master Grelatik, many people she knew she'd have preferred to avoid, such as the various elders and Mistress Donawirt. Had their hosts invited all of Wyteen? Perhaps this was their annual effort to blend into the community.
Fortunately Mistress Meisin soon tracked her down. Seeing Janys would be in for a long discussion about textbooks and preliminary plans, Martel took the opportunity to chat with his friends in the trade office. By the time Meisin moved on to another person, Janys wasn't sure where her husband had gone. Nor had she seen Shalimerie or Kronitin arrive, though they might be somewhere in the chattering crowd.
As she started towards the kitchen to get a glass of water before finally sampling the food, she found her way blocked by a man with uncombed gray hair and beard. "Mistress Janys!" he greeted her with a mock bow that showed the effects of too much winnotal. "Our newest offworlder beauty, come to slay our hearts."
She recoiled from the sneer in his voice, veering from her destination to head towards the front door. Although Nila had vanished, Rodogan still claimed the vantage point. "Have you seen Martel?" she asked anxiously.
"I believe he is taking a stroll around the yard with a gentleman from his office," the host assured her. "Would now be a good time to look at my meager collection?"
"Absolutely." Yes, she use a break from all the strangers, especially the one who'd accosted her.
"Come this way." To her surprise, he led her outside, stepping off the porch onto the grass. They crossed the scraggly lawn to a building she'd taken to be the neighbor's house. Taking a key from his tunic, he opened the door for her. "These are the few things I have managed to put together with available finances."
Janys saw why Nila teased him about false modesty. While the arrangement of shelves would have filled only a niche in the Institute library, it was the largest private collection she'd ever seen. "It's amazing," she told him as she wandered about, breathing in the delightful odor of leather and paper.
She halted in front of the five volumes sitting primly between crystal bookends. As Nila predicted, they would have been hard to miss. The middle title seemed familiar, and she carefully pulled it out. "I read this one once. An Institute librarian downloaded it into my implant right before I went to Actinon. I remember being mad because he didn't include the first two books in the series. So you're Rod Egan?"
"Indeed," he smiled. "Though for my next book, my editor wants me to use 'Master Rodogan'. It will be a suspense novel set on Rydell where I met Nila, involving a romance between a dashing literature professor who lives to warm ladies' buns and the waif who delights in provoking him. As long as I never mention this planet or any of their peculiar disciplinary ideas, I should be able to sneak it past the Elders."
Janys laughed nervously. "Why Mistress Janys," he teased. "Are you going to tell me you now believe in all this mumbo jumbo about 'instanters' and 'forbinners' and writing everything down? Around here, we only have one rule: Whatever happens, Nila gets spanked."
She didn't want to insult a man who was doing everything he could to make her feel welcome, but she felt she had to know. "I can see how someone might like a spanking. But the cane? Isn't that incredibly painful?"
He crooked his finger at her and ambled past the shelves towards the end of the room. "I was going to point you down this way in case you want to sit for a while and look at the some of the books, but let me show you my other collection." Janys followed him to a section formed by the backs of bookcases. A comfortable leather chair and footrest dominated the space
, but one glance around showed her the area got used for a lot more than just reading. From the walls to the canisters flanking the chair, she counted at least sixty canes and rods of varying sizes and lengths.
One lay across the stuffed arms of the chair. He picked it up, flexing it before swishing it through the air. "I will be trying out this newest one tonight on my favorite derriere. We have been looking for one that will deliver just the right amount of sting."
Janys found herself staring at the cane and all its companions in horror. "These all look like they'd do a whole lot more than just sting."
"Depends on the technique. And the position of the bottom. But most can be mild as well as severe." Rummaging in one of the canisters, he picked out a thick, black one. "Now this I would worry about. We stopped using it because it was hard to control, and I knew it could easily break skin. The Council asks for it sometimes for extreme forbinners." He dropped it back into the container.
"As to the others—" he shrugged. "Under other circumstances, I would show you what I mean. You would see how exquisite a well-applied cane can be. Of course if Martel would like to study the technique, or borrow any of these—"
"That's okay," she said hastily. "The books are more than enough."
He chuckled. "You may be surprised how your feelings will change the longer you stay here. Someday I will ask again Now I need to get back to the others, but take as much time as you want." His fingers closed on the end of the new cane. "Think I will take this along with me. With me out of sight for a while, Nila must have found a way to get into trouble."
Janys thanked him, then methodically started working her way through the sections of the library. He'd categorized everything first by planet of origin, then alphabetically by author. In a few minutes she located the Demetian collection and pulled out several possibilities. Maybe if she read several pages from each, she could make her final selection.
Although it gave her a slight quiver to sit down in the leather chair, she quickly forgot its other purpose as she leaned back and stretched out her legs. The first two novels didn't do much for her, but the third centered on a woman who'd abandoned her post with the Protectorate to live in Wyteen. Caught up in the story, she continued well into the first chapter.
Captive Discipline (Demetrian Brides Book 1) Page 17
