She looked longingly at the couch, but it, too, was usually off limits unless specifically permitted.
With a sigh, she turned back towards the bed. She settled down as comfortably as she could on the floor on the side closest to him, in case he needed her in the night. She curled up to stay warm, told the lights to turn out, and the room obligingly went dark.
James woke up only once, long enough to slip off his clothes, throw them in the general direction of his suitcase, and slide under the covers. He had a sense that he was missing something but was back asleep so quickly he didn't have time to contemplate it. When the rays of the sun hit him in the face, he groaned and rolled over, but it was no good; he was awake. He rolled out of bed on the side closest to the bathroom and stumbled in to take care of business. When he was done, he walked around the bed towards his suitcase but pulled up short when he got to the other side.
"Oh, fuck!" At least he remembered to whisper instead of yell. Lying on the floor, curled up on her side, was Lydia. Her long brown hair spilled over the arm tucked under her head, and onto the floor. And the shirt that he'd thrown carelessly over the side of the bed in the middle of the night was pulled over her small body and clutched in her hands.
Why was she on the floor?
He bent to wake her and then remembered his state of undress, so he donned a pair of pants before kneeling down again. "Lydia?" he whispered. He didn't want to startle her. He put a hand on her shoulder and she woke up with a jerk and a squeak.
"Master! I'm sorry. What do you need, sir?" She struggled to a sitting position, rubbing her eyes.
"Please call me James, and why are you on the floor?"
"You didn't tell me I could sleep on the bed, before you fell asleep."
"You need permission to sleep in the bed with me?"
"Well, yes, sir."
"What about the couch?" She looked at him. "Not allowed on the couch, either?" She shook a negative. He dropped his head.
"Why not the bed under here that's just for slaves, then? Surely you don't need permission for that."
She furrowed her brow. "Sir?"
"Oh, hell." He lifted up the spread hanging down the side of the bed. There, tucked underneath, was a small bed that could be rolled out. A bed for someone just like her. With a pillow and a blanket.
A laugh burbled out of her. He grinned. She laughed again, and for a minute the two of them shared a laugh so hard neither could breathe. As they came down, he sobered up with a thought.
"You must be freezing! Is that why you had my shirt over you?"
She looked down. "Yes, sir. I hope that was okay."
"Lydia, look, I'm not from here. I don't understand the things you do. If there's a need you have that I don't know about, you have to tell me, all right? If you're hungry, thirsty, need to use the bathroom, cold, hot, bored – any of those. Understand? You tell me."
And he needed to remember that she was in his care and he had an obligation to be aware of her needs before she had to ask. He had to shift into protective Dom mode immediately.
"Yes, sir." She smiled at him. It was a lovely smile.
"Oh, and if you have to wake me up to ask me for something, you are ordered to do that. If you don't, I'll spank you." He smiled to show he was teasing, but the look that flashed through her eyes before she composed herself was not what he expected.
He cleared his throat. "Now get that freezing ass of yours into a nice hot shower and don't come out until you are warm."
She gave him another smile and scampered into the bathroom, and a few minutes later the steam began to billow out. James, who couldn't operate on anything less than two cups of cassa as soon as he rolled out of bed in the morning, placed an order for room service.
His thoughts were interrupted by her emergence from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. If it were possible for her to look any lovelier, he couldn't imagine. Her skin was a rosy red, her eyes sparkled, and her hair spilled long and dark and damp over her breasts. And she had that smile again. He had a brief fantasy as he stared at her of ripping the towel out of her hands and tossing her on the bed, then fucking her hard as she squealed and shrieked and finally came hard, triggering his own orgasm...
His improper, indecent and illicit thoughts vanished with the knock on the door. She grabbed her small bag and jumped back into the bathroom as he opened the door and accepted a rolling cart of assorted breakfast dishes, along with a pot of cassa whose smell promised restoration of life to the dead.
He settled himself on one of the lounge chairs and poured out two cups. A minute later she emerged, dressed in a jade green dress that crossed over her breasts in the front and then fell no more than halfway to her knees. As she walked, it literally floated up in the air and he was treated to glimpses of matching green panties that were hardly more than wisps of frothy lace. The only sight to mar the perfection were the angry red marks glimpsed on her ass, and still visible above the low neckline on her back, despite that the whipping had been five days ago. Whatever she had done – which he'd avoided asking about so far – she surely didn't deserve that kind of punishment.
No matter. She looked stunning. He held out a cup of cassa and she fluttered over to take it from his hand.
"You want cream or sugar?"
"Sir, I should be serving you!"
"Nope. I can serve myself. Besides, I want to serve you. Sit. Now what do you want?"
She dropped gracefully to the floor at his feet. "Just cream, if it's permitted."
He'd meant for her to sit in the other chair, but at this point, he wasn't going to push it. He poured a healthy dollop of thick white cream into the cup she held up to him.
"What do you want to eat?" He listed the options and she made her choices with hesitation, but with obvious pleasure at the experience. They ate in silence for a while, James letting the cassa clear the cobwebs from his brain.
As much as he wanted to spend the day just gazing at the woman sitting at his feet, he was self-disciplined enough to know he needed to get back down to the Archives. He hoped he could find something to keep her occupied, though the idea of knocking off early so he could take her swimming – naked, of course – sounded awfully nice as well.
Books Everywhere
The cup of cassa had been the best Lydia had ever had. Of course, maybe it was the company. Either way, right now she was happy, and she'd learned to enjoy her happiness whenever it flashed across her life.
"Ready?" He was standing over her and she was so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed. She scrambled to her feet and once more tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as he led her out of the room. The hallways were more crowded this morning and she felt conspicuous in her silver collar, the only one she saw among all the black collars of off-world women. It was easier to keep her glance on the floor as they descended the beautiful staircase and walked through the lobby to the front doors. As they emerged into the sunshine, he surprised her by turning left and walking a dozen meters or so down the front of the building to a nondescript door, where he produced a key. The door to a lift opened and they stepped in. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her.
"Sir, where are we going?"
"I need to spend more time in the Archives today." He seemed distracted, as though his mind had moved on to other things.
"Archives, sir? What's in there?"
Her question was answered as the lift doors opened and she was staring out into a huge room.
With shelf after shelf after shelf of books.
Her heart leapt into her throat and she let out a small gasp. Her legs were rubbery. James started out into the room and then turned to catch the doors before they closed again.
"Lydia? What's the matter?"
She took a deep breath. They were just books. They were not going to jump off the shelves and land in her unwilling hands. With a monumental effort, she shoved herself off of the back of the lift wall and almost stumbled out into the cavern.
"I'm
fine, sir," she lied. She followed him over to a table with a computer, trying to calm her panicked breathing. With every step, she felt an ache in each red mark on her back. The closer she got to the shelves the more the aches felt like circles of hot coals.
"Are you sure you're all right?" He looked genuinely concerned, but her panic was her own problem and not to be foisted upon her temporary master.
"Yes, sir." She smiled the lie at him again. This was the kind of lie she was used to telling. If her real master asked, he genuinely wanted to know, but he was different than most masters, who never wanted to know the truth, even if they asked. Most wanted to think that their women – their slaves – were happy and carefree.
He patted the chair next to his and looked at her with raised eyebrows. She shook her head and glided to her knees next to his chair.
"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat in the silence. "I don't really have anything for you to do. You can't really help me, unless you can read Br'ini?"
Her head flew up and her shocked eyes stared into his. She felt the blood drain from her face as her mind scrambled to understand how he could possibly– She forced herself to relax. He was an off-worlder. He'd asked the question because he didn't realize the implications of it.
"No, sir. I can't. It's forbidden for women." Two statements, only one of them a lie.
"That's a stupid rule."
She didn't think she could be more shocked, but she was. That rule was one of only a very few that were punishable by death here on Midros. And he was calling it stupid? There was no good reply to that, so she just lowered her head and got as comfortable as she could on her knees on the cold floor and prepared to spend the day doing nothing.
She heard him open a book over her head and her breathing quickened. Why was she so terrified? This wasn't like her at all. But the lingering pain on her back was a powerful reminder of the lesson she'd been taught. The lesson that had been received and internalized. She almost wept realizing how scared she'd been to even touch the dictionary hidden in the floor by her bed.
The other women in her master's house – Bena, who was Master's First Slave and the mother of his two grown sons, and Magrita, Amia, Dinai, Frini, and the ancient cook Didi – seemed content with life. Magrita, Amia, and Dinai were still young women, like Lydia, and had their hopes set on a love match and sale to one of the employees, or better yet, to one of Master's sons. Frini didn't seem to care; she was obsessed with gardening and had practically taken over the design of the grounds, though as a woman she couldn't supervise the gardeners so actual orders came from Master. One of the gardeners had had his eye on her for years and probably would have purchased her if she'd shown any interest, but Lydia knew that Frini had an independence she was unlikely to keep if she was sold to anyone else.
Only Lydia seemed restless, at least in her own eyes, though she wasn't in a hurry to leave Master's house. She knew she had a better life than many, with a master who genuinely cared for her and was strict but indulgent. She knew Master would never sell her unless she agreed to the sale, and there was no guarantee that life with another master would be anywhere as nice, even if he claimed he loved her and she was his First Slave.
She craved mental stimulation. She'd devoured every book she was allowed to read in Master's house, all in Eluiim of course, but they did little to satisfy her curiosity. Master's library had shelves of books, all written in Br'ini and forbidden to her, which seemed to be filled with stories of all kinds that were never found in Eluiim books. Stories about things that weren't true were considered a waste of time for the slaves. There was a rich tradition of oral storytelling among the women, but Lydia didn't find it enough.
A book slammed above her and she jumped. James uttered a curse and a sigh.
"Master, are you all right?"
"Yes, just not finding anything anywhere."
He seemed like the kind of man who liked to talk, and she was curious. "What are you looking for, sir?"
He hesitated, and she cursed silently. She'd read him wrong. "Apologies, sir. I didn't mean to pry."
"No, no, it's okay. I'm just not really supposed to talk about it. With anyone."
"Oh. Yes, sir."
"And please call me James."
"Oh. Yes, sir. I mean, yes, James." She really needed to remember that.
"I don't suppose you'd like to help me, would you?"
"If I can, um, James, of course." She'd be glad to move.
"Come on up."
She stood stiffly. A large, very old book written in Br'ini was lying on the table. James looked at the computer and scribbled something on a piece of paper.
"Would you find this book for me?" He thrust the paper in her direction without looking at her.
She froze for a moment then reached out to take the paper with a trembling hand. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to disobey the law in order to obey her master?
"S-sir? James?"
"Hmm?" He peered at the computer.
"I-I can't. I'm not supposed to carry Br'ini books."
He looked at her with a curious expression. "But that just doesn't make sense. You can't even carry one if I ask you to?"
"I, um, don't know. I've never been asked to carry one for somebody else."
"I'll take responsibility, okay?"
She nodded and reluctantly turned around to head for the shelves. Despite his words of reassurance, slaves who broke the law were punished even if they had been ordered to by their masters. Why didn't she tell him what had happened? Why was she risking another punishment?
Because he was the first man to ever talk to her as a regular person, not as a slave, and she didn't want him to stop doing that.
Numbers were the same whether they were Br'ini or Eluiim, so the numbers on the sheet made sense to her. She found the book without a problem, but stood and looked, not daring to touch it. She avoided reading the title. She didn't want to know what it said. At last, she reached one finger out and touched the old cracked spine, and the world did not fall down around her. Emboldened, she used the finger to tip the top of the book out, and when the floor did not crack open beneath her, she used her other hand to grab it and pull. Suddenly the book was in her hands, and she looked down at it, her breathing slightly panicky.
I'm not supposed to do this – I'm not supposed to do this.
Before she could lose her nerve, she dashed back to the front of the room. The table was so strewn with books and papers there was no room to set the heavy book down, so she stood next to him and waited. He was absorbed and he paid her no attention until she couldn't bear it.
"Sir, please?" It came out shakier than she planned. With a start he looked up and took the book from her trembling hands, placing it on top of another book, then turning back to catch her hands in his.
"Lydia! Is it that scary?"
She nodded, and despite years of training to hold in her feelings, she burst into tears. Suddenly his arms were around her and she was pulled into his lap.
"Shh... I'm sorry. It's okay now."
"No, sir, I'm sorry! It's just, well, that's what I was whipped for the other day."
He stilled. "You were whipped for carrying a book?"
"Well, holding it. Without permission. It was just so beautiful, and I just wanted to see what was inside, but I shouldn't have, and I was lucky I only got thirty strokes..."
"Goddamn this is a barbaric place." His words came out as a whisper, but they shocked her to the very core. She twisted around to look into his face, her eyebrows raised.
"Is – Is it different on your planet?" she ventured.
He nodded his head slowly. "Women on my planet have the same rights as men. They read the same books, go to the same schools and no one owns them. They make all their decisions by themselves. They hold jobs and get paid."
She looked at him in wonder. "Bena told me something like that once, but she would never tell me more, and I thought it was a made-up story."
"Who is Bena?"<
br />
"Master's First Slave. She's the mother of his sons."
"It's not a fairy-tale. It's the truth."
"Then who are the women with the men who come here to visit from other planets?"
"Well, mostly their wives."
She wrinkled her brow.
"A wife is a woman who's chosen to get mated to a man. At least it's usually a man, but it doesn't have to be. There's no buying involved. They agree to it together. And if she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to."
"But they wear collars here and have to obey the rules, too, don't they?" She thought of the woman who had been punished after she had been – who'd received twice as many strokes as she'd been sentenced to because she wouldn't stop fighting them. She'd been a mess when she was done, though it still wasn't as bad as Lydia's punishment.
"Because your government makes them do it. On their worlds, they don't."
"Then why would they ever want to come here?"
"Well, sometimes they come because they have jobs that give them knowledge that your government needs to know. Other times, they come, because, well, they're curious about what being a slave is like."
"They're free, and they want to be a slave?"
He looked like he was struggling to explain something. "You see, sometimes one person enjoys submitting to another. Being a slave. But only because they can choose to be one or not. Sometimes they come here to see what real slavery is like. To be one for a while."
"But they go home and they're free again?"
"Yes, if they want to be."
"Then they don't really know what slavery is like, do they?"
He squeezed her hand. "No, they don't."
Something he'd said before popped into her mind. "You said you'd never had an involuntary slave before. You've had a, um, voluntary one?"
He reddened and cleared his voice. "Um, well, yes. In the past I have. I enjoy being a master – but only to someone who wants to be my slave. And that only happens after we've negotiated limits and rules."
Memories of Surrender (Midrosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 5