Bound by Her Promise

by Jaye Peaches

  “How dare you!” exclaimed Oona.

  Millicent said nothing, she went pale for a few seconds before flushing bright red. Her lips turned into a snarl.

  Ursula rounded on Oona. “You are no better. You told the constable Sym did it and let Millicent get away with it.” The other woman blushed too.

  Lysa felt a growing sense of satisfaction as the lifers whispered to each other, backing away from Millicent. However, behind her the discontented Corporate wives grew noisier. “You bitch,” uttered one.

  Ursula spun around and addressed Sym, who stood at the back of the gathering. “I am so sorry, Sym. I should have spoken out before your sentence was passed, but I believed my friendships were important to me. Now, I know justice is and not those I thought of as my friends.”

  Sym nodded, wiping away the tears and mouthing thank you.

  Lysa sighed, things seemed to be going well.

  “I knew it,” screeched Jen, stepping forward.

  Ursula backed away, opening up the space between the two women and Jen took her place, standing opposite Millicent. “You evil, conniving…” shouted Jen, pointing a finger at Millicent.

  With her stomach churning, Lysa tried to placate Jen, resting a hand on her shoulder. Jen shrugged it off. “No, Lysa. This has gone on long enough. It’s time Millicent got a taste of her own medicine.”

  “Jen, no. You’ll get in trouble,” said Lysa.

  Millicent, who’d been frozen in a stance of shock, emerged from her shell and rose up, her hands on her hips and her face hardening. “Oh, yeah, come on, slut, do your worst.”

  “No, no!” pleaded Lysa. Suddenly, everything was going horribly wrong and the tension in the room rose several notches. The groups of women eyed each other up warily and Oona seemed keen to have a confrontation. Millicent too, she clenched her hands into fists.

  A brawl! Lysa pressed her hands to her cheeks in alarm. No, dear God. A catfight amongst the women would bring all her hard work to an end. How could she have been so foolish to think Millicent would stand there and accept her guilt without a fight? Inadvertently, instead of trying to bring peace, she’d stirred up more hatred. Blake would be furious with her. Tears pricked in her eyes. She had to intervene in order to keep Jen and Millicent apart.

  It might have been farcical in hindsight, like a slapstick routine, but to Lysa it played out in terrifying slow motion and each second lasted a lifetime. The moment she chose to yet again step between the two angry women, the constable appeared with his two sidekicks. She caught sight of him as she swivelled, spinning her arms around. She’d leapt between the wives with her arms spread wide in a gesture of intervention. Unfortunately, as one arm lashed out, Millicent opted to move forward, her face walking into Lysa’s flying hand.

  The slap echoed about the room. The constable witnessed Millicent’s head fling back, and the howl as she clutched her nose, making a huge fuss over a tiny drop of blood.

  Lysa dropped her arms to her sides. The Dome fell silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing and Millicent’s over the top wailing. The constable strode forward, pushing aside the bystanders and snatched Lysa’s wrists.

  “You’re under arrest for assault and inciting dissent,” he snarled.

  Lysa shrank and winced as he snapped cuffs on her wrists. “Please, it wasn’t like that. I was trying to stop them fighting.”

  “By punching a decent, upstanding woman in the face?” He glared down at her.

  Jen rushed forward. “Please, sir, it wasn’t like that, it was my fault. I started it.”

  Lysa shook her head frantically. She didn’t want anyone else to suffer for her stupidity. “No, it’s all down to me. Nobody else.”

  “Very well,” said the constable, shoving her between the parting crowd. “You’ll come with me. Disperse this lot,” he ordered the two aides. “Oh, and take a statement from Millicent, since she’s the injured party.”

  Jen kept pace with them, repeating her pleas, but the constable ignored her.

  “She’ll face the consequences,” he said grinning.

  The consequences! The punishment block and the ghastly switch. The image conjured up made Lysa go weak at the knees. Blake had promised he wouldn’t let the constable beat her. “Jen, please, you have to get word to Blake. Tell him,” she shouted over her shoulder as the constable shoved her forward.

  It was a ghastly walk of shame through the habitat. Held tightly at the elbow and her wrists bound behind her back, Lysa hung her head, not daring to catch anyone’s eyes. Whispers greeted her as he paraded her through the atrium on what seemed to be a deliberately long detour to the security block. She bit back waves of nausea and refused to cry.

  Once they passed through the security door, she was alone with him. He propelled her down a corridor. Would he send her before the adjudicator immediately? The answer came in the form of a tiny cell. He shoved her into the bare room.

  “You’ll be processed shortly, once Millicent’s statement has been taken.” He followed her into the room.

  “What of the other eye witnesses. Ursula?” Her friend would tell him the truth, about Sym and everything, surely?

  “Millicent’s statement will be sufficient to guarantee your guilt.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it tight, jerking her head up. “You’re nothing. Good for a hard fuck, a decent beating and nothing else. I’m going to enjoy turning your backside crimson, listening to you scream.”

  “That’s exploitation—”

  He let go of her hair and slapped her face. The sting brought tears to her eyes and her legs gave out. She landed on the bench behind her.

  “You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut by the time I’ve finish with you.” He jabbed a finger in her face.

  “My husband—”

  “Will take great pleasure in seeing you punished. They all do.” He laughed and slammed the cell door behind him as he left.

  She curled up in a ball and wept. How long would she have to wait for her judgement and summary punishment? Once the adjudicator passed sentence, appeals were forbidden on the colony. If only Ridley knew of her predicament. She had to stay strong and keep alive the hope that Blake would return in time. The light dimmed to near nothingness. Alone and afraid, she’d had to wait and pray Jen would persuade Yuri to send a message to Blake.

  * * *

  “Did you speak to Ursula, heard what she had to say about Millicent?” Lysa stood before Harkess’s desk with the constable by her shoulder. Nobody else was present for her hearing.

  Harkess didn’t look up. “Ursula and her husband left early this morning on the shuttle. She’s gone.”

  No, oh no! Now she understood why they’d delayed her interrogation until the next day. “She had important information. Don’t you understand? Can’t you contact her on the shuttle and—”

  “Shut up,” snapped the constable. “Show some respect.”

  “The evidence is clear cut. You struck Millicent. You encouraged the Corporate wives to show their wicked side.” Harkess snorted.

  “Wicked?” Her voice trembled.

  “Don’t you understand, slut, nobody is coming to help you,” murmured the constable in her ear.

  “My husband, you can’t pass sentence without him. Sir,” she added, praying for some kind of mitigation.

  “Blake is currently on Colony 16,” pointed out Harkess. “He isn’t here.”

  Lysa hadn’t seen Blake for five days and he wasn’t due back for two more. “He will come, once he knows. You have to wait.”

  “We have to?” growled the constable, his foul breath heating her neck. “We don’t have to, do we, sir.” He chuckled.

  “The rules are quite clear, young lady, in the absence of your husband, you will be punished by the constable.”

  Lysa’s legs seemed unable to take her weight, she struggled to stop her knees wobbling. “But… but… he promised he would not let… He will come. Please, don’t do this. I have rights, don’t I? Shouldn’t somebody rep
resent me?”

  Harkess leant back in his chair. “You are a Corporate wife. A woman of little status. We own you, don’t you see, silly girl. Think of your marriage as a loan. While you’re here, we have jurisdiction over you and we, I, decide what is to become of you. I am your representative.”

  “You! You can’t be both, that isn’t fair… it’s wrong.” She edged forward, closer to the desk.

  “Enough.” The constable yanked her ponytail, dragging her head backwards. “You’re already facing a severe punishment, don’t make it any worse.”

  “My husband loves me,” she stated, shaking her head free of his brutal grip.

  “Loves you,” Harkess laughed. “My, my… that is quite entertaining. They all say that, my dear. Don’t you realise these miners are all the same? Brawn, pure muscle and little else. We choose them because they’re strong, can endure the harsh conditions underground and because they do as we say. Money, sex… it doesn’t take much to keep them in line. You, Lysa, will be divorced by him, take my word for it. Come the end of their contract, they change their minds and think of Earth and their future.”

  Lysa stumbled backwards, clutching a hand to her mouth. How could he say such terrible things about the miners? Blake did love her. She was convinced of it and he wouldn’t divorce her. They’d talked so much about his sheep farm. How she would help him run it, even if the venture meant temporarily putting aside her own plans to become an engineer. Once he’d set it up, she’d fulfil her own dreams and he would support her.

  She straightened and glared at Harkess with the defiance Blake had seen in her catalogue picture. “He does love me and I love him.”

  The constable sniggered, while Harkess shook his head. “It will end with your heart broken,” he muttered. He rose up, straightened his plain jacket and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve considered the charges and given the seriousness of both, I’m sentencing you, Lysa, to twenty strokes of the cane. In the absence of your husband, the constable will carry out your punishment in two hours.”

  Two hours! Blake would never make it back to Colony 14 in time to intervene. A public caning and the humiliation would be unbearable if she didn’t keep her nerves under control. Anger replaced despair and with it came defiance. She would show them, all those eager eyes lapping up her caning. She would show them how brave and strong she could be.

  The constable pinched her elbow, pulling her towards the door. “Out.”

  She fought to free her arm and as he bundled her out of the room, she turned to Harkess. “You bastard!”

  “Make that twenty-five strokes, constable, and ensure her bottom is well heated. I want to be able to hear her scream from here.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  * * *

  They took her clothes, the men in black garb, and thrust a white shift into her hands. She changed in the corner of the cell, facing the wall so they couldn’t see her properly. It wouldn’t matter soon how hard she hid her nudity, she would be undressed in front of a hoard of onlookers.

  The two men escorted her down the tunnel that connected the cell block to the punishment block. Leading the way, the constable, swinging the switch in his hands, whistling to himself.

  Lysa heard voices. A hubbub of people chattering quietly amongst themselves. She entered the arena and halted in her tracks as a barrel load of nerves hit her, overwhelming her emotions and turning her into a statue. The place was heaving. All the benches fully occupied by men with more standing by the walls, shoulder to shoulder. Her impending punishment had attracted a considerable crowd.

  “Move.” The man behind her nudged her between the shoulder blades and she stumbled forward, forcing her jellified legs to walk.

  The chatter of voices ceased. All she could hear were quiet movements as people settled. She had to know if he’d come and she quickly peered around the room, but there was no sign of Blake, nor Jen or Sym or either of their husbands. She spied Millicent, with Oona, perched on a bench with what must be their men. The privilege of seats was afforded to lifers, not Corporate wives, who remained on their knees. How she hated the whole system of inequality.

  Millicent smiled at her. Not a smile of greeting, but one of malicious delight. She folded her arms across her chest and whispered something to Oona, who in turn smothered a giggle.

  The absence of Blake almost wiped out her resolve to keep her head high and her nerves hidden from view. She stood by the bench, ignoring the straps and stared at her bare feet. She’d vomited in the cell’s toilet before they came for her, unable to keep any food in her belly. Nevertheless, the lack of nourishment didn’t stop her from marching out of her cell, refusing to let them manhandle her.

  The constable announced her crime, emphasising the ‘despicable’ assault on Millicent and near ‘riot’ she’d caused in the Green Dome. The exaggerations were greeted with gasps and the volume rose when he decreed her harsh punishment. “Strip her.” He barked at his comrades.

  The one with coarse hands took hold of the white fabric, ready to tear it from her, but she pushed him away and picked up the hem. “I’ll do it,” she snapped. She drew the flimsy dress over her head, unveiling her pale skin.

  She shook as she climbed onto the bench, determined to keep as much dignity as possible. The cold surface made her flinch and goose bumps shivered across her body. The straps bit into her skin as the men bound her in place. Looking at the contraption was not as terrible as lying on it. She felt more exposed, more stretched out than she thought was possible. She rested her head on one side, looking away from the constable.

  “Doctor.” The constable called out.

  Lysa gritted her teeth as the medic made much of his duties. He probed and pinched her bottom, deliberately sliding his fingers between her bottom cheeks and pressing her anus. “All’s good,” he pronounced, then attached the heart monitor on her back.

  She waited, heart pounding and belly rumbling with nerves. She braced herself for the unction—the dreaded arse heater, as the constable proclaimed its application. About her, the crowd seemed to lean forward, as if they wanted a better view of her reaction to the horrible cream. She hoped it would be no worse than the bleaching agent she applied. He rubbed it into her buttocks using more pressure than necessary and kept circling each cheek with the heel of his palm.

  Her eyes widened as he slid a finger into her cleft, just as the doctor had done, and spread the cream about her anus, then down into her slit. She wanted to shout, protest at his unjustifiable actions, but they would only get her more strokes of his switch.

  The heat came instantly, nothing like the prickling whitener, it roasted her bottom into a fire. She gasped, struggling not to cry out. She already felt like she’d been spanked, except when Blake did it, he built up the heat and pain gradually, unlike this awful searing in her flesh. How would she cope with the cane?

  She fought the instinct to clench her buttocks, knowing it would make it far worse. Her body prickled with sweat as the oppressive heat of the room closed in on her. About the auditorium, the tension was palpable as numerous breaths were held.

  Tears welled, she’d fought them back for hours, but now she could no longer keep them at bay. She’d let herself down, but more importantly, she’d let Blake down. This dreadful situation would never had arisen if she hadn’t interfered and insisted on putting right an injustice. Now the Corporation was using her body to perpetuate their prejudices. There was no escape and Blake wasn’t coming to rescue her. Perhaps Harkess had been right—her husband didn’t love her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the constable lift the switch high above his head, poised to strike. Fear flooded her emotions, drowning out all others.

  “Oh, help me,” she muttered then squeezed her eyes shut.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blake removed his breathing mask and wiped the grime from his face. His shift underground had finished and along with the others from his team, he’d come up in the massive elevator to the surface
. For some unknown reason the mine on Colony 16 seemed cooler and less claustrophobic.

  Five days in and two more to go. He volunteered to go because the extra money on offer made it worth the hard toil. However, he missed Lysa and longed for her delicate mouth closing in on his stiff cock every morning as he woke. After work, he would lie on the bed in the sparsely furnished guest pod and yearn for that same mouth kissing his lips and greeting him with a warm smile.

  His cock twitched in a familiar fashion and he dismissed his beautiful wife from his daydreams. What he wanted now was a shower and food.

  “Yo, Blake.”

  Blake turned and saw his shift supervisor waving at him. “Yeah?”

  “Message from fourteen. Somebody called Yuri.” He gestured at the Comms screen.

  “Sure. I’ll get to it once I’ve cleaned up.” He hung up his breathing apparatus.

  “Says it’s urgent. Something to do with your wife?”

  Blake froze. The heat emanating from his perspiring body evaporated quickly and a cold, clammy sensation replaced it.

  What had she done?

  * * *

  The airlock door in the shuttle bay spun and Blake shot through the gap. He almost collided with Jen, who came bounding across to meet him. Behind her waited Yuri, Craig and Sym, whose face was deathly white.

  “Quick, hurry,” she harried, pulling on his hand.

  “Has she been before the adjudicator?” he asked, striding next to her.

  “Blake, she’s been sentenced to twenty-five strokes. It’s happening now.”

  Blake cursed and picked up his pace.

  He’d promised her—no man would punish her but him. He’d pleaded with his supervisor on Colony 16 to let him leave and even offered to forgo his bonus. To his great surprise, the man turned out to be sympathetic and understanding. He’d released Blake from his remaining shifts and in sufficient time for Blake to catch the only inter-colony shuttle for that day.