“If you refuse to be inked, you’ll be punished.”
“Nobody else will see these tattoos, will they?” she asked.
“Only I will see them as they should be seen. If others do, then that will be of your own making. You’ll understand better tomorrow.”
She no idea what he meant by his remark. A more important matter was pressing for attention.
She sat up, conscious of her nudity. She had no way to cover herself and he wouldn’t permit it anyway. She lowered her eyes and tried to appear as demure as possible.
“Please, sir, might I ask a favor?”
He stepped toward the door, collecting his jacket along the way. “What?”
“Clothes and a few things from my quarters. When you’re working, would I be allowed to dress and study?” she asked as sweetly as possible.
He hesitated.
Please don’t say no. Please.
“Very well. Bisma will take you tomorrow before your inking begins.”
“Thank you.” She beamed.
“Good.” He appeared a little uncomfortable with her display of gratitude. “Tomorrow evening, I shall come and inspect you again. We shall continue to progress toward claiming you fully. Oh, and not forgetting, the first stage of your whipping, which will be conducted in a few days.” He clutched the door handle.
Zara swayed. He still planned to whip her? How could she convince him not to? Was there anything she could do to lessen the punishment he’d chosen to inflict on her?
She knew exactly what she had to do. Obey him. Please him. Do anything to distract him from punishing her.
With a brisk nod, he left the room.
Chapter Five
Zara slept through the night without stirring. She awoke a little after sunrise and for a few seconds she was disoriented. Yawning, she stretched her arms above her head and knocked against the chain links. Reality hit immediately. She was here, locked inside a room belonging to a high judge. Usually she would be up and making breakfast in the communal kitchen of her block. The Vendu liked to rise early and many would go to the gym or combat zone to train, both men and women. Zara found it hard to accept that a Vendu female could learn to fight, hold down a job, then behind closed doors become this doe-like creature who submitted to her man. Zara thought she liked the idea of the alpha male in the bedroom. However, as last night revealed, if she was to be the submissive Galen desired, she had much to learn.
Bisma had completed the bedtime ritual with a further cleansing. She’d covered Zara’s naked body with a blanket and switched off the light. Zara had been exhausted and the details of what Galen had done had been lost in her own confused mix of emotions. If she dwelt on it, she would have to admit some uncomfortable truths: she’d had an orgasm and enjoyed it. She’d also had an intimate sexual experience with an alien. No, best to move on and deal with one day at a time.
She listened to the kookaburras and other birds sing their chorus until Bisma unlocked the door and brought in a tray. Breakfast had arrived.
Bisma clucked her tongue, a now familiar admonishment. “You’re still in bed. You should be showered. Dressed.”
“I’ve nothing fresh to wear,” Zara protested, sitting up in bed.
“The judge has given permission for you to be escorted to your flat for your things. But, we must hurry. The inkers arrive in two hours.”
Inkers! More than one? Zara opened her mouth to protest.
“Move, girl,” Bisma urged, her arms flapping in agitation.
Zara darted into the bathroom. She didn’t want to start the day on the wrong foot. She saw her reflection in the mirror. Cautiously, she twisted to inspect her behind.
Nothing!
Her bottom was unblemished by bruises and any hint of redness. Whatever Bisma had applied to the skin was very potent.
She showered, combed out her hair, and slipped on the previous day’s clothes. She felt instantly grubby.
Bisma tapped her foot on the floor while Zara wolfed down her breakfast. The porridge was filling and tasteless.