Forgetting her promise to play the part of an obedient slave, Tabitha lifted her chin angrily. “Maybe if you’d listened to a few of my ideas I wouldn’t have had to try to prove myself this way.”
“Yes, maybe.” Now that he was no longer angry—or what passed for angry in a Zentorian—Captain Keer’s voice was once again maddeningly cool. “You’ve been trying to get my attention for months in one way or another but I ignored you. Maybe I should have put you in your place sooner.”
“Put me in my place?” Tabitha was really angry now. “I’ll have you know that my place is aboard the Pride of Justice as a valued member of the crew and I don’t care what you think about my inexperience, if you’d just give me a chance instead of looking right through me all the time—”
“Give you a chance to do what?” he growled in a low voice. “To go sneaking off on your own and jeopardize the mission? Exactly what kind of attention are you looking for here, Bryce? Should I have called you to my quarters and exercised my privilege with you—is that what you wanted? Did you want my attention professionally…or sexually?”
Tabitha lost her head. Forgetting she was supposed to be a slave or that Captain Keer was her commanding officer, she faced him, rubbing her wrists. “You arrogant bastard! I—”
“Looks like you didn’t beat her long enough, son.” The mild voice interrupted their heated argument and Tabitha and Keer both looked up to see an elderly man with a worn leather pack on his back looking at them with great interest. And he wasn’t the only one. The crowd who had gathered to see Tabitha beaten had started to dissipate when Keer unlocked her manacles. But now the merchants and buyers were beginning to drift back, obviously hoping for an encore performance. Tabitha glared at them belligerently and refrained from rubbing her sore backside even though she very much wanted to.
Taking in her expression, Captain Keer’s eyes hardened. “I think you may be right, friend,” he said to the old man, nodding formally. “But my business is far from here and I don’t have any more time to spend on a rebellious slave.”
“But surely you don’t mean to take her on a long journey without salving her wounds.” The old man gave him a disapproving look and nodded at Tabitha’s ass.
Wounds? What wounds? She let one hand creep around to explore her stinging flesh but there was no blood on her fingertips when she looked. The old man was making a big deal out of nothing, she decided. As much as the whipping had hurt, she doubted it would leave any permanent scars. What did he want anyway? And why didn’t Keer just put him off and take her back to the damn ship?
“I do have a long journey ahead of me,” he was saying to the old man when she turned her attention back to them. “What do you suggest?”
“Some of this.” The elderly man drew a tiny earthenware pot from his worn leather sack with a flourish and presented it to Keer. “It’s a compound of my own invention. Keeps scars and marks from forming and makes the skin smooth and supple between beatings.” He nodded at Tabitha. “A lovely little slave like that, you don’t want to mar her beauty with belt and lash marks. Take some of my salve—just one credit a pot—and smooth it over that pretty skin before any permanent damage can occur. There’s a bench over there if you chose to use it. Many slave owners do, you know.” He smiled winningly and pointed to a crude wooden bench not far from the whipping post.
“Well, maybe I will take some.” To her horror, Keer gave Tabitha a speculative look.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, please…” But her commanding officer had already tossed the old man a cred chip and was holding a pot of ointment in one large hand.
“This way, slave,” he said, leading her over to the wooden bench. “I wouldn’t want that beating I gave you to leave marks.”
“What are you doing?” Tabitha hissed as he seated himself on the bench and pulled her close. She tried to resist but Keer was far too strong for her. With very little effort he had her facedown over his lap with her burning ass high in the air.
“I would think it would be obvious.” His deep voice had a warning growl in it. “I’m treating your wounds. I think you need another reminded of who’s in charge here, slave.”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” Tabitha writhed in his lap like a cat until her commanding officer clamped one arm over her lower back and bent his head to whisper in her ear.
“Do you want me to hold you in place again?” he murmured warningly. “Because I will if you don’t stop struggling.” His large hand traced the burning welts on her bottom and dipped between her legs suggestively, letting Tabitha know exactly what he was threatening.