Michaela

by Tracy St. John

  “Is she fertile?” Michaela asked.

  Govi rolled his eyes. “Quite. She’s had over a dozen children.”

  Raxstad nudged the Imdiko with a knowing grin. “Want to make bets on how many of those kids actually came from her clanmates?”

  Govi shuddered, as if he found the whole thing repugnant. Korkla snorted, his expression a mix of humor and disgust.

  At least they don’t seem to like her too much now, Michaela thought. Apparently Feyom was not a nice person and they had no continued interest in her anymore. Yet Michaela couldn’t help but wonder how hard they’d fallen prey to this woman’s considerable charms in their past.

  Not nice, but all woman. Michaela worried how she compared in their eyes, at least in the physical sense.

  * * * *

  Shortly after showing Michaela his rooms, Govi noted his young love had gotten quiet. Even the delight she shared over seeing her dance studio felt muted. The Imdiko could tell Michaela was pleased, but the sadness that so often tinged her demeanor had re-appeared.

  Raxstad and Korkla didn’t notice the change because their luggage arrived soon after they toured their new Matara’s mostly empty suite of rooms. Michaela insisted on hanging up her delicate Plasian clothing in the space she’d decided to designate as her dressing room. Two travel bins had seemed like a lot of clothing to Govi, especially for such a tiny little Earther. Yet Michaela groaned over how little she had to wear once she had the clothing and shoes put away to her liking.

  “Look at all this space left over,” she said, gazing about her dressing room.

  “It’s not furnished yet,” Korkla said. “Shelves will have to be installed for all these shoes. A couch for you to sit on, plus a table...”

  “More closets,” Michaela said. “And out in the open so I can see everything.”

  “More closets?” Raxstad looked awed at the idea. “You already have more clothes and shoes than the three of us combined.”

  “Well, yes,” Michaela said with impatience. “But I’m supposed to have more clothes and shoes. I’m a woman.”

  It was soon after that when Govi noticed she wasn’t joining in on conversation so much.

  Govi had hoped to show her the playroom next. He could just imagine the look on Michaela’s face when she saw all the furnishings and accessories the clan possessed for intimate pursuits. He especially looked forward to trying some of their toys out on her. However, Raxstad chose that moment to announce he was hungry for dinner.

  “Where are we eating?” the big Nobek said, trying on the pathetic expression that never worked on his clanmates. Raxstad was incapable of looking like anything that deserved sympathy. “I’d kill for a ronka steak.”

  “There’s always Syno. It’s got good atmosphere,” Korkla suggested.

  “Are you trying to starve me? Their portions are pathetic. Now Ubotak knows how to feed a man. Let’s go there.”

  “I hardly think that’s a good place for Michaela. Everyone is always fighting, especially now with kurble playoffs starting.”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”

  Govi watched Michaela as his Dramok and Nobek argued over where to eat. She had withdrawn from the conversation, fingering the lace sleeve of a particularly feminine blush-colored dress. He had a twinge of worry until he remembered they had only just arrived on Kalquor barely two hours ago.

  She’s exhausted. The excitement has worn the poor girl out.

  In a low voice, Govi interrupted his clanmates. “Perhaps it would be better to order from the complex’s kitchen? It’s been a long day with many new experiences. I think relaxing tonight might be a better plan. We’ll all be more in the mood to eat out tomorrow.”

  The Imdiko didn’t have to hint that his main concern was for Michaela. The other two picked up on it immediately, their gazes going straight to the heart and soul of their clan.

  Korkla was quick to agree. “Let’s do that. Have them broil the biggest steak they’ve got for Raxstad. Do you like the idea of eating at home tonight, my Matara?”

  She started, as if having forgotten where she was. She recovered quickly and smiled at the men. “That sounds perfect. I’d love to settle in a little before going exploring.”

  “Let’s see what looks good on the menu then. I’ve heard the kitchen has even incorporated some Earther foods in anticipation of your and Jessica’s arrival.”

  As they moved down the home’s main hallway, Korkla whispered to Govi, “Is everything all right?”

  The Imdiko nodded. “I think she might be a little overwhelmed. Even when change is regarded as a good thing, it can be stressful.”

  Half an hour later, the clan gathered around the small dining table. With Michaela added to their number, Govi found the place warmer and cozier. She sat between him and Korkla, making it easy for them to feed her as was their custom. Raxstad, with his long reach, was able to join in even from across the round table.

  Govi found himself questioning his assessment of Michaela’s state of mind while they had their first meal at home as a full clan. She seemed distracted, not really paying attention to the morsels of pilchock and something called scalloped potatoes the men offered her, along with the food on their own trays. She barely touched the leshella they had toasted their homecoming with, and Govi knew Michaela loved the expensive liquor.

  Trying to draw her out, Govi said, “It’s been quite a day, my Matara. Are you tired?”

  She stared down at her tray rather than looking at him. “A little, I suppose.”

  Korkla and Raxstad both turned watchful. Having weathered over six weeks of emotional storms, they knew when Michaela was withdrawing. It was a sure sign something had gone wrong in her head. The trick now was finding out what had set her off this time.

  Govi had every intention of finding out.

  “Something is bothering you,” he prodded.

  “No. I’m fine. Just tired, like you said.” Her shoulders hunched and her expression was that of a small, hurt child.

  Govi knew she’d fallen into the trap of thinking bad things about herself again. His heart throbbed painfully. He’d seen damaged Mataras in his practice and knew it took time to pull them out of the hurt they’d endured. There were good days and there were bad days, and one learned to expect them. Michaela was tougher than many of the women he’d treated, and he knew in the end she would win out. Even with the knowledge that Michaela’s pain was only temporary, it didn’t make it any easier to watch his lifemate go through the torment.

  Govi put an arm around her, giving her comfort even though the sudden stiffness of her posture told him it wasn’t welcome. Michaela’s newest bout with despair was working its way into defensive anger. He readied himself for the coming tantrum.

  In a firm but loving voice, the Imdiko said, “Michaela, you need to tell me what’s wrong. We can’t fix it if you keep it to yourself.”

  She rounded on him, her dark eyes flashing daggers as she glared into his face. “You know Govi, you can’t fix every damned thing wrong with me. Some shit is going to remain.”

  Korkla spoke next, instinctively trying to deflect her growing fury from the Imdiko. “What shit? Don’t shut us out, my Matara. You know we won’t have it.”

  Michaela slammed her fist on the table top, making the trays and glasses rattle. “Damn it, can’t you just leave it alone for once? Just one time I’d like to have a passing thought in my head and not have everyone interrogate me over it.”

  Govi wouldn’t back down no matter how angry Michaela seemed. She was hurting, and he couldn’t stand that. “Passing thoughts are one thing. Sitting there and internally tearing yourself apart is another. What is bothering you?”

  “Right now? Right this second? You.”

  With that Michaela tore herself from his grasp, simultaneously shoving herself back from the table and gaining her feet. Even angry and desperate to escape, she was graceful as she broke away. Govi watched her rush out of the room, awestruck by her beauty even a
s he ached for her pain.

  He drew a deep breath and sucked down a bracing gulp of leshella. Korkla and Raxstad sighed in unison as they prepared to rise from their meal.

  “Welcome home,” the Dramok said to his clanmates.

  Govi managed a rueful chuckle. “She has been doing better, you know. It’s been two weeks since her last real meltdown.”

  Korkla rose and stretched. “She is improving, which is good to see. What the hell triggered this though?”

  Raxstad drank his leshella, and then polished off Michaela’s glass for good measure. “Only one way to find out.” He brightened. “Hey, we’re home in our own place. That means I can break down the door of whatever room she’s locked herself in.”

  Korkla glared at him. “You break something, it comes out of your pay, Nobek.”

  Raxstad’s face fell. “Ah hell. I don’t want my grouchy little sweetling hit by flying debris anyway.”

  “All right. Let’s go repair our poor Matara’s heart and shattered esteem, clan.”

  Govi got to his feet and let Korkla lead the way as they went in search of Michaela. The Imdiko hoped this latest crash of his beloved’s self-worth would be an easy fix. Damn it, he hated to see her feel bad about herself when she was the most remarkable woman he’d ever known. He looked forward to the day when she could see the wonder she was through his eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Michaela locked herself in a room at the back of the home. She stood in the most amazing bath facility she had ever seen.

  Soft, intimate lighting came from the wall panels as soon as she stepped into the room. She told the door to lock, and it obeyed with a click. No doubt the men would soon be beating on the door, but for a few seconds she was alone with her thoughts.

  Her gaze roamed over the huge room, the stone floor of which shone like polished marble. Like the greeting room, there were discreet grooves on the surface, keeping it from being slippery. Thick fur rugs scattered here and there, promising soft places to sink her toes in.

  The bathing pool really was a pool. It was big enough to accommodate a dozen people easily. Gleaming metal spigots surrounded it, which initially made little sense to Michaela. The pool was already filled with water, and it circulated in and out just like a swimming pool back on Earth would. The water lapped softly at the edges.

  After a few moments puzzling over the faucets, Michaela figured out one could pull them free of their docks. Attached to a hose, each nozzle’s spray could be adjusted to allow for a water massage.

  Thick snow-white towels ranged on metal stands near the pool and a separate shower stall. The stall was huge too. It was big enough to allow a full clan to use it at once, even one with a man the size of Raxstad. There were more of the removable faucets, along with a spray system in the stall’s ceiling. Dials and buttons paneled the walls, the function of which Michaela couldn’t even guess at.

  Despite the luxury of promised soaks, Michaela’s thoughts were far from decadent baths. She couldn’t even fantasize of water sports with the clan in the fabulous room. Not after seeing Feyom. Michaela never wanted to be naked around her clan again.

  How could they not compare her to the gorgeous Kalquorian Matara? Perhaps Feyom was a bitch as the men had alluded to, but her physicality had been perfection. Seeing that woman and then looking at Michaela, the men had to find their Earther mate wanting. There was no way past that fact.

  Korkla’s voice came from the other side of the locked door. “Michaela, come out of there right now.”

  Her throat closed in misery. Korkla, Govi, and Raxstad were her dream come true. Yet they deserved so much better than her. They had to know that.

  Swallowing past the block so that she could speak, Michaela said to the closed door, “Leave me alone.”

  She heard Korkla sigh. “You know how this is going to end. This is our home too. We can override the lock at any time.”

  Raxstad’s rough voice came next. “Open up now. If I have to come in and get you, I will punish you, young lady.”

  Michaela screamed in her agony. “I’m not a lady and you know it! I’m a misbegotten accident!”

  She hadn’t uttered the unpardonable word, the one they hated above all others. Nevertheless, Raxstad’s growl was pure fury.

  “That’s it, damn it. I’ve heard enough. Door, unlock and open.”

  It slid wide, and the Nobek entered the bathroom like a thundering force of nature. One look at Raxstad’s angry face reminded Michaela of the night he’d come to her rescue, saving her from Earther soldiers bent on murder. Raxstad had turned murderous himself, ready to kill on her behalf. Michaela quailed to be the focus of his ire this time.

  She backpedaled with a frightened cry, but there was no escape. Raxstad’s hands closed on her. He didn’t hurt her, however. Even as he slung her over his shoulder, he was careful with her.

  Michaela jerked her head up to see Korkla and Govi there. The Imdiko’s expression was sad but patient. Korkla’s, however, was set in firm lines.

  “We’ll introduce her to the playroom,” the Dramok told the other two men. His dark stare skewered Michaela, somehow making Korkla as fearsome as Raxstad. “However, I don’t think you’re going to enjoy it as much as I originally intended, my Matara.”

  Raxstad set off down the hall with her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Michaela knew she was in trouble, and not the kind she liked. She felt sure punishment this time would not be a pleasure.

  All too soon they entered a room Michaela hadn’t been in yet. Raxstad set her down in the middle of the space. When she had a look around, her body quaked at what she saw. Her knees actually knocked together.

  If this is their idea of a playroom, I’m not so sure I want much recreation, she thought.

  Right in front of her face swung chains that ended in manacles. They hung down from a metal beam embedded in the walls a few inches from the ceiling. Other things also depended from this beam: straps, a cage, a harness-type contraption that Michaela thought might be a swing, and lengths of ropes.

  There were tables too. One looked like a doctor’s examination table, complete with stirrups at one end. It had a lot of straps, apparently intended to tie down whoever was laid upon its surface. There was a strange chair with a headrest, arms, and padded leg rests, all equipped to also strap someone down. Between the leg rests was a mechanical device that took no imagination for Michaela to figure out. With the rod ending in a dildo and that dildo pointed where the sitter’s crotch would be, she knew it was some kind of fucking machine.

  There was a padded bench that reminded her of a pommel horse. Then another padded bench that she’d seen in one of Raxstad’s naughty movies he liked to watch. One was to crouch along its length with legs and arms cushioned on either side in troughs attached to the main bench.

  There was a seat that reminded Michaela of a saddle. It had a cock-shaped piece rising from the seat, apparently meant to be ridden on.

  The walls had devices Michaela recognized and others she could only guess at. Some were obvious: straps, paddles, floggers, even a whip. Then there were shelves of dildos and other instruments. Last were areas where a person could be bound to the wall with collars, manacles, and chains.

  In her fear over the coming punishment, it looked like a medieval dungeon where a hooded torturer would hold sway. Michaela wanted out of the room and started to back away from Raxstad.

  Raxstad grabbed hold of her again and started yanking at her clothes, pulling them apart at the resealable seams. “Oh no you don’t.”

  She struggled even though she knew the futility of it. Next to her behemoth Nobek, she was like a child. He already had her blouse and skirt off and shredded her bra and panties as if they were made of tissue paper.

  Michaela yelled in desperation, “But I didn’t say the bad word! I didn’t call myself a freak!”

  Korkla’s tone was matter-of-fact. “‘Misbegotten accident’ is not a term I approve of either. You knew when you called yourse
lf such that there would be repercussions.”

  He helped Raxstad in raising Michaela’s arms to the manacles overhead. They snapped them around her wrists. There was a loud ratcheting sound like coming doom as they adjusted the cuffs to fit her wrists.

  “By the ancestors, she’s tiny,” Raxstad growled. “The cuffs almost don’t tighten enough to keep her from slipping free.”

  “At least there is no chance her circulation will be compromised,” Korkla said.

  With Michaela bound naked and helpless, Raxstad stalked over to the wall. Meanwhile, Korkla adjusted the length of the chains so that Michaela was forced to rise up on her toes.

  The Dramok looked her over, stretched taut with her arms pointed up to the ceiling. His gaze went dark with lust. “Mother of All,” he whispered. “You are beautiful like this.”

  Michaela would have enjoyed the effect her state had on him but for Raxstad rummaging through the spanking implements. The Nobek tested the weights of straps and floggers in his hands and looking at her with speculation. Even worse, Govi began picking out things on the shelves. She had no idea what the things he chose were going to do to her.

  She pulled against the manacles holding her prisoner, hoping she might slip through their grips. No matter how she twisted her wrists and tried to make her hands smaller, she couldn’t slide free.

  “Damn you, I don’t like this!” Michaela yelled at Korkla.

  The Dramok continued to watch her, arousal scent wafting from him. “That’s the point of punishment, little one. We will get you to stop calling yourself ugly things or you will be made very uncomfortable for the rest of your life.”

  Raxstad headed their way. Michaela’s heart skipped a beat to see a long metal bar in one hand and what could only be a paddle with a long handle in the other. Tears filled her eyes to know he would spank her with the wooden length. It would definitely not be a spanking meant to excite. This one would hurt in a bad way.

  The Nobek knelt down and laid the paddle to one side. He placed stiff leather circlets around her ankles. Then he hooked the metal bar to the leather cuffs, placing it between her ankles and forcing her legs wide apart. Korkla adjusted the chains stretching her up so that Michaela stood once more on the balls of her feet.