Bullshit. She would never forget this week. It would be the best week of her life, probably, the week to which all other events in her dull life were going to measure up against, and come away lacking. She hoped, but doubted, that she could return to being the obedient dutiful slave she'd been before she'd met him.
No, not before she'd met him. Before she found the dictionary. Because, if she were honest, that's when it started. By opening that book, she'd stepped into the river. Meeting James had carried her into deeper water, but the current would have still swept her downstream, and would probably, eventually, drown her. No matter what, her life would never be the same.
She had to do something else while she waited for him or she would lose her mind. She thought back to the diary and her interrupted reading. She longed to discover the rest of what the unnamed woman had written. Shit, why hadn't she asked to bring it upstairs with her before they left? But it was too late now.
Or was it? Knowing it was a bad idea before she did it, she slid her hands into the pocket of his abandoned pants – and folded her fingers around the key to the Archives.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she rifled through her clothes and found the dress James had bought her just a few days ago. It covered the most skin and looked the least "slave-like". She stopped to take a quick look in the mirror and swore. Her silver collar stood out like a beacon, proclaiming her status. Midrosian slaves were not allowed to wander around without their master in this hotel. Off-world slaves, wives, as many of them were called, weren't supposed to either, but Lydia had seen enough of them over the last few days to know that management turned a blind eye to them walking alone, as long as they stayed inside. Her eyes flitted around, looking for an answer, and she spotted one of his leather belts. It was black.
Did she dare?
Knowing that if she were caught, this belt would probably be used on her own ass, she threaded the long end through the buckle and placed the loop over her head so that the buckle was at the back of her neck and the belt covered the silver collar. The free end hung down her back and she tucked it beneath the fabric of her dress. Her hair was long enough to cover everything; when she looked in the mirror it really looked like she was wearing a black leather collar.
She slid her feet into her shoes, grabbed the archives key, and headed down the hall. She kept her head up, like the wives did. They didn't have a lifetime of being trained to keep their eyes on the floor. They could look anyone in the eyes whenever they wanted to. She was starting to resent just about everything in her life. Don't think about that now!
She passed a man, whom she didn't look at, and a couple. The woman smiled as Lydia met her eyes and Lydia forced herself to smile back.
So far, so good. She descended the stairs into the lobby. It was busy with new arrivals – that must be the ship that Dobas and Mareen were leaving on later today. No one seemed to pay her any mind as she slipped out the front doors of the hotel and walked the few heart-attack-inducing steps to the nondescript Archives door. The key worked flawlessly, and she was in the lift.
It only took a minute in the Archives to walk to the hidden door, push the bookcase aside, enter, grab the diary, secure the door, and get onto the lift again. Her heart was in her throat as she stepped out into the sunshine. The front entrance was still busy with arrivals. She slipped back in, walked up the stairs, met no one on the way, and got back to the room door.
Which was locked.
She stopped breathing.
How had she forgotten that one little important detail? Only James' hand, waved over the sensor, could open it.
What was she going to do now?
Her panicked mind didn't have an answer. She couldn't go down to the lobby for help. Her deception would surely be revealed if she wore the belt, and if she took it off, she was in a world of trouble. She couldn't sit out here in the hall for the same reason. She glanced wildly up and down the corridor. There was a small door about fifteen feet down, and to her surprise, it was open when she tested the knob. It was stuffed with linens for the maids.
Breathe, breathe. This was actually a good place to hide. If the maids came along, they would surely take pity on one of their own and let her into the room, right? She took the belt off her neck and settled onto the floor. She kept the door open just a crack, able to see the hall and with luck, James, when he finally came back. Whenever that might be.
Once her heart stopped trying to fly out of her chest, she opened the diary. She might as well pass the time.
She found the part where she'd read about paeolin oxide. She and James had read beyond that together, but the unnamed diarist hadn't said anything of interest about what James was looking for, so they'd skimmed through the rest. Now she wanted to read all about the life of this woman. She found the place where she'd left off, about ten years after the diary had started.
~ "Mirin is getting married. I'm not sure how I feel about my daughter giving up all her legal rights to a husband. She loves him, that's clear, and says it's no big deal since she trusts him. He's a nice guy, but I'm not sure that's enough to protect any woman now. She can't even leave the house without his permission. Indeed, I hurry about my own errands these days, as I don't have any man to give me permission to leave the house, and I only hope I'm not stopped and questioned. The penalties for disobedience grow more onerous each day. There's no pretense any more of exchanging freedoms for safety. Even men who disagree with the new rules have been jailed and punished. Our society is sliding down a slope that gets steeper and steeper and I see no end in sight.
We're still collecting books. We have several thousand so far, and need to find a better place than Loren's basement, even if her husband is helping us. He hinted that he might know of a place we could use." ~
~ "I'm going to be a grandmother! Mirin is so excited! I find myself with mixed feelings, though. Do I want a granddaughter, who will grow up almost as a slave? Or a grandson who will grow up into the role of the oppressor?
It's a bleak outlook on life, I know." ~
Almost a year later:
~ "Where are all the young women coming from? Does no one but an old math professor like me notice that if one man keeps many wives, and wives are trying to have only boys, then there should be a shortage of girls? But just look around and it's obvious there's an excess! I've redone the calculations a dozen times and it just doesn't add up. There was no explosion in the birth rate years ago. I know; I was there! " ~
~ "A new law was passed today. Girls are now to be taken to boarding schools starting at the age of five. They'll live there until they're eighteen, when they'll be placed with husbands. Parents are permitted visitation twice each year. There were riots today, both men and women united in their anger. The police responded viciously to the unrest. A dozen mothers and fathers were killed, and hundreds were arrested. Worst of all, there are reports from all over, that the daughters of all the arrested parents were rounded up while they were in custody. When they returned, their daughters were just gone, and no one will say where they are.
I'm sick. Mirin's son is safe, it seems – as a boy he'll grow up to do whatever he chooses to do. Mirin and Jese have decided not to have any more children. Jese is a good man. Though he's unable to stem the tidal wave that has overtaken us all, he's protecting us the best he can. I'm grateful we have him in the family." ~
~ "I'm now living with Mirin and Jese. I was presented with a choice after being arrested while going to the market by myself: I could return to the custody of my ex-husband, or I could move in with my son-in-law. I haven't spoken to my ex since I found out I was pregnant with Mirin after he raped me, more than twenty years ago. And since he's remarried, I'd be a second wife. Perhaps a better description would be second slave. My daughter and son-in-law have made me welcome, and taking care of little Dasis is a sweet pleasure. Since I have no husband, my status has officially been reduced by the authorities to "servant".
~ "The real answer to the gender imbalance e
ludes me still, but I heard a disturbing rumor yesterday. Groups of men who call themselves 'Orphan Hunters' stalk any place where there is war, and pick off young girls whose parents have died, and whose absence is not likely to be noticed in the chaos. They're brought here and blended in with the Midrosian girls who are just starting school. I pray to whatever deities exist that this is a horror story told around a campfire."~
Lydia stared at the words in disbelief.
The next entry was a month later.
~ "Once more, I've been caught off guard by what evil can do. I was at the market with Jese, and ran into an old friend from university days. She was with her grandson. She tried to tell me all about what she'd been doing for the past decade, something about teaching girls at the girl schools, and it was clear that some type of dementia was taking its toll on her mind. But at one point she looked me straight in the eyes and said, 'You know, we had to punish them until they learned Eluiim. We never asked where they came from, but it wasn't Midros.' Her grandson rolled his eyes, saying she'd been telling fantasies recently. She left without saying goodbye.
I believe her." ~
Treasure Lost
A movement caught Lydia's eye and she looked up. James! He strode right past her hiding spot. She scurried to her feet, grabbing the diary and the belt, and left the linen room just as he waved his hand at the door and it unlocked.
"James!" she called softly. He spun around, then grabbed her arm and hauled her into the room.
"What the fuck were you doing out there?"
"I-I got locked out," she admitted, unable to meet his eyes.
"Locked out? How the fuck do you get locked out when you are inside a room?" he challenged.
"I was bored. There was nothing to do." The excuse sounded pitiful to her own ears as she peeked up at him. "I wanted to read more of the diary, but we left it downstairs."
She didn't think he could look any angrier, but he did. "You went down to the Archives? By yourself? To get the diary?"
"Yes, sir." His anger made her revert to lifelong habits, and she dropped to her knees, her head hanging low. "I'm sorry, sir!"
"How did you manage to get down there without being noticed?"
She trembled. "I-I put the belt around my neck to look like a black collar. No one paid any attention to me at all, I swear!"
"And if you'd been caught out of the hotel room, with that book? What then? You'd be whipped in public, again, for running away, and your whole precious library down there would be destroyed. Forever. Don't you get that? Or maybe you are just a stupid slave!"
She looked up at him, stunned. "James–"
"Did you at least remember to close the door?"
She nodded. Tears fell, silent and thick and fast.
"Good. Because I'm about to take Raym and six of his colleagues down there to show them what I found, and I came back to get the key, and instead I find you've made the worst decision you could have ever made! Get over the end of the bed, now!"
His tone was frightening, and a lifetime of obedience made her movements automatic. She shuffled on her knees over to the end of the bed, where she stretched out her body, lifting her backside up. He grabbed the fabric of her skirt and yanked it up to her waist, and she heard him pick up the discarded belt from the floor. Without warning he brought it down with a crash on the spot where her thighs met her ass. She screeched and threw her hands back there to soothe the scalded skin.
"Get your hands out of the way!"
"James, I'm sorry!"
"I am too."
She braced herself as she moved her hands over her head and gripped them together so tight they hurt. The second blow came down directly over the first and this time she screamed long and loud, eventually subsiding into sobs. She braced herself for another.
The blow never came. She heard him throw the belt on the floor and he stood over her, heaving huge lungsful of air.
"I will not punish you when I'm angry."
She raised her eyes and stared at him. Something inside her broke, and she uttered words she'd never dared to utter in her whole restricted life. "Isn't it a little too late for that? You've already hit me twice. Are you really any different than any man who lives on this planet?"
He didn't answer, but grabbed her arms and dragged her over to the floor in front of one of the armchairs. He pulled both wrists behind her and secured them with the belt, then yanked them high enough to rest on the seat of the chair behind her in a strange kind of strappado. He secured the belt tightly somewhere towards the back of the chair. She felt the strain in her shoulder muscles as she bent forward to relieve some of the pressure and knew she was going to be miserable very soon.
"Let's see if you can remain in one place until I get back. We're not done with this." He grabbed the Archives key and was gone.
Minutes became like hours as the strain in her shoulders became a fire she couldn't relieve. The spot on her ass where the belt had hit was just a dull ache in comparison.
But the worst pain was in her heart.
Why had she sneaked out and endangered herself? He was right. She'd be accused of running away if she was caught. There was absolutely no tolerance for that here on Midros and the penalty was severe.
Why had she been so intent to get the diary that she'd ignored the danger to the entire library?
He'd punished her in anger, an action that was contrary to everything he'd told her about being a master where he came from.
And he called her stupid. That hurt more than all the other things put together. She'd endure any amount of beatings at his hand to erase the memory of that comment from her mind.
It didn't take long before she was sobbing. It seemed to go on and on, and she had trouble catching her breath. There was no way of sopping up the tears or wiping her nose and before long she was a mess.
The tears had ceased but the pain in her shoulders had only increased when she heard someone at the door. She blew the hair that had fallen over her face away enough to see the door open –
It was Rillo, one of Master's assistants. With someone else.
Rillo?
"Yes, that's her," he said. "This is for you, for letting me in the room, and this is the refund for the guy, for reclaiming her early."
She didn't understand. "Rillo, what is–"
"Shut up."
He'd never spoken harshly to her before. He strode over and peered behind her at her arms. "Wow. This looks uncomfortable. And you've been crying. You're a mess. You must have really pissed him off."
"Rillo, what are you doing?" She felt him fumble behind her.
"I'm letting you go. Huh. Did you know this wasn't really tied to anything? Interesting."
"I don't want to be let go, Rillo, please–" She really didn't. She wanted James to come back so they could talk this out and if she had to endure this all night, she would.
He squatted down in front of her. "You've had quite an adventure, and your master is getting concerned that you're under the wrong influence. He convinced the Board of Slavery that this man has twisted your understanding of your place here on Midros and they've agreed to let you finish your week at a later date. I'm taking you home." He helped her scoot forward until her arms dropped off the chair seat behind her. Pain lanced through her shoulders and she cried out. He stood up and tried to pull her to her feet but she pulled away from him.
"No! I want to see James first! Please, let me see him first!"
He shook his head, his hands on his hips. "James?" he repeated. "Not 'Master James'? That's exactly what I'm talking about." He motioned to the other guy who handed him something and before she could register what it was, a ball gag was shoved between her teeth and fastened behind her head. She fell into a frenzy then, rolling away from him on the floor, her arms still bound behind her with the belt. She crashed into the side table in her struggles and heard the lamp fall off to the floor.
Rillo yanked her up, the other guy grabbed her other arm, and they dragged her out of th
e room and down the hall. She never stopped yelling for James behind the gag until she was shoved into a large vehicle and they turned towards her master's home. Then she cried.
It should have been the proudest moment of his career. After grabbing the references from the archives, they had decamped to a lab at the nearby university, which someone had pulled a lot of strings to open for them this evening. His conscience pricked at him every second, though he was glad that despite his anger he'd thought enough to leave her arms unrestrained to the chair. If she kept still, she'd think she was bound, and it would be uncomfortable as hell, but teach her a lesson. If she struggled, she'd find out it wasn't actually tied and she could get out quite easily. He hoped she'd realize her mistakes and accept the pain until they could talk.
He hoped she'd forgive him for the unforgivable things he'd done, and said.
Raym's scientists were giddy, slapping backs. They ran a few calculations, tried a couple of quick experiments, verified that they agreed this was probably the answer, then opened a cabinet marked "Infectious disease samples", revealing a sink, shelves, an assortment of liquor bottles, and plastic cups. They drank a toast to James. He listened to them spending the money they'd be making, but his thoughts were only on Lydia and the promise he'd made to her. When he felt he'd been reasonably polite, he made his excuses and left. Raym caught up to him.
"You headed back to your nice bed warmer?"
James turned on him. "Fuck you! She's so much more than a bed warmer. She's incredibly intelligent; as intelligent as any man in that lab we just left."
Raym pulled up short at his anger. "A slave? They're usually dumber than a wall. What the fuck has gotten into you with her?"
Memories of Surrender (Midrosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 13