“Yes. It’s a bigger space.”
“Bigger?” Her stomach churned, just as it had done when Marco had confronted her in his office. “Why not the punishment room?”
“Witnesses are required. You will be punished in the presence of the overseers, maids, and a select representation of jenjins.”
Freya’s legs nearly buckled. Marco had agreed to this? What about his promise to be the only one to discipline her? “No,” she whispered, then louder. “No. I won’t go. I won’t let you—”
“Guards,” said Lalita, raising her voice. “Escort this jenjin to the bondage room now.”
The two men hooked their arms under her armpits and lifted Freya off the floor. Her feet flapped uselessly between them as they dragged her along. She cursed them in numerous languages, but had the wits not to use Vendian. The double doors of the bondage room swung open and she was thrust before the small crowd, which had shaped itself around the perimeter of the room. She recognized the stern faces of the overseers, the maids, including Tanara, and the chosen jenjins with their bowed heads and demure postures. Thankfully, Lucilla wasn’t present—Freya couldn’t bear it if her friend witnessed this, knowing Lucilla would blame herself for Freya’s foolish undertaking.
There was no sign of Marco. Freya hung her head and ceased struggling. The guards planted her back on her feet.
She wasn’t alone in her punishment. Gellis was bent over a spanking bench and the tips of her long hair were brushing the floor. Poor Gellis. Her situation was all Freya’s fault and she wished that she could make amends, but how when there was nothing she could give her maid?
Lalita read out the charges facing the maid—a long list of protocols breached, mostly relating to her time alone with Puto, who must have admitted to touching her during Marco’s promised reprimand. If Freya hadn’t have left her alone with him, Gellis’s punishment would have been lesser.
Lalita picked up a long rod and swept it back before striking her across both buttocks. Gellis jerked and pulled on her bindings, but emitted no sound. This wasn’t the first time she’d been caned, Freya guessed. She blinked away tears of guilt. Nobody in the room spoke as Lalita applied the cane again and again, creating thin red lines stacked in neat rows. Freya wanted to dash over and release her maid. She hadn’t had an opportunity to apologize and the first opportunity she had, she would beg Gellis’s forgiveness and hope they could stay friends.
After ten whacks, Gellis began to make noises. Freya tore her eyes away and focused on a spot on the wall opposite. While her lips trembled, she imagined how she would be soon bent over and punished.
Where was Marco? Why had he abandoned her to this? Had he decided to return her to the Volta but also give up his claim to her? Leave her for any man to take and use? That idea horrified her. She’d rather face her fate in the canyon.
The final stroke cracked and Gellis cried out. It signified the end of the punishment. Another overseer released her from her bonds and helped her to her feet. When Gellis turned to face Freya, she expected a glare of hatred; instead Gellis lowered her tear-clogged eyes. Whatever animosity she felt toward Freya, she left hidden behind a stony face.
Freya’s trembling worsened. It was her turn. The bench was dragged away and a different one took center stage in the middle of the room. Unlike the simple version of a sawhorse, this bench had a long plinth on which she would rest her tor
so and head, while her legs would be spread and bound to the legs.
“Strip her,” Lalita ordered.
Freya expected an overseer to carry out the instruction, but it was one of the guards who tore the dress from her shoulders. For some reason, the infringement of her last shred of dignity caused Freya to snap. She resisted by folding her arms across her chest. He in return was forced to tear her dress into ribbons. Eventually, his comrade joined in and pulled her arms to her sides. The remains of her dress lay in tatters by her feet and as the guards kicked it aside, she pushed her chin up, desperate to regain a morsel of dignity while inside she battled to stay calm.
Naked and feeling alone in a room full of people, she decided she would do everything she was capable of doing to fight back. Clenching her fists, she would show them she wasn’t a weakling.
The door behind her opened and she shot a glance over her shoulder. Marco.
Freya’s heart skipped a beat. It had been pummeling her against her breastbone throughout Gellis’s caning, but the sight of Marco changed the speedy palpitations from beats of regret and anger, to relief and for some unknown reason, excitement. He’d come—she hadn’t been forgotten by him.
He circled her and as he did, the guards released their grip on her flailing arms and gave her space. She stilled and altered her aggressive stance to one more befitting his presence. She bowed her head and dropped her arms to her sides.
He pinched her chin between his finger and thumb and lifted her face. She stared directly into his dark eyes and they pierced her, crushing the rebellion that she threatened to unleash. He displayed not only his sternest expression—straight lips and narrowing eyes—but also his heart-melting good looks, which always seemed to sharpen when in close proximity. She had nothing to say, no words to explain how she felt inside. The conflict of emotions—dread, anticipation, longing—was too difficult to describe.
“I’m so disappointed,” he said softly, but not in Vendian. He spoke in his heavily accented, but accurate English. “I thought I could trust you and that you trusted me. Instead, you conducted a covert activity behind my back, dragged along your maid, and tricked my assistant. I don’t care that you believed you were doing a good deed; this is not how you respect me, Freya.” He removed his hand.
His words hurt, probably more than the cane that would soon strike her ass. “You lied, too. You said you wouldn’t let anyone else punish me, yet here we are—”
“I will be the one punishing you. However, I never said it would be in private. Don’t be angry with me, Freya. I’m doing exactly what is necessary to show you how much I care for you. Isn’t that what you want from me?”
Her needs went far further than he’d offered her to date. She wanted him to tell her he loved her. How would he demonstrate that to her when he refused to speak of it? She furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t understand how this is caring for me.”
“I will show you how to trust again. You will trust me to punish you appropriately and within your limits of endurance, and in doing so, I will accept you back. If you want me, as much I want, need you, Freya, you’ll do this.”
Submit without a fight? She’d prepared herself for a battle, and now he expected her to bend over without resisting. Was she ready to do that for him?
“Please,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this. I can’t bear to be spanked in public.”
“It’s not in public. It’s a private audience and none of these women will respect you less if you obey me and do as you’re told.” He waited for her response and she doubted she’d much time to decide between rebelling or submitting.