Chapter 16
The rattle of the lock wakes me. The exhaustion and the heat of the fire must have made me doze off. My bottom is still sore. I’ve been sleeping on my side, keeping it from pressing against the furs. Even that was painful.
Mero is there, and I don’t know if I’m glad it’s him. The other two are nowhere to be found. He’s changed into dark trousers and a fitted black sweater, perfectly tailored, with black leather shoes. He holds the leash in one hand and beckons me forward with the other.
I pull myself from the furs without even trying to cover my tits, the seed still on my face and skin as I crawl toward him. My bells tinkle as he clips the leash to my collar, then starts walking without a word.
I crawl behind him on my hands and knees, my knees rubbing against the limestone.
He stops and looks back.
“You may stand.”
I stand, afraid to look up at him. He gently strokes my cheek.
“Come.”
He leads me outside. My eyes flick to my watch. The thirty minutes feel so precious now that I know I could be spending the full rest of my ninety days barely leaving my cage.
We circle the grounds near the house twice before he stops at the tree. I look up at him, pleading with my eyes, but he says nothing.
Before he can hurry me or give the command, which would make it even more humiliating, I squat beside the tree, my skirt riding up.
The stream sounds so loud. My cheeks burn, and I look up at him.
To my shock, he hasn’t looked away. He’s watching me piss in front of him.
My stream stops instantly, the humiliation sudden and intense.
He starts walking, thinking I’m finished, and I stand and follow him, not even fully relieved.
We make two more loops before I can’t hold it any longer. I’m not allowed to speak, so I tug the leash toward the tree and look up at him. He lets me lead him there, then simply watches as I squat down, squeeze my eyes shut, and finish what I started.
Shame burns in my cheeks. To my deeper shame, my nipples are rock hard, knowing he’s probably watching me.
The instant I’m done, he clicks his tongue twice.
I stand and follow him around twice more, looking up at the sky, at the huge, billowing clouds. I like the bracing autumn chill against my skin. It feels so refreshing after the drowsy warmth inside.
Then we’re in front of the door, and I look at my watch.
Thirty minutes have passed.
I want so badly to stay out here. I look toward the front gates, the sealed stone that used to open for me.
Then he walks indoors, and there’s nothing I can do but follow him.
At my cage, he unclips the leash from my collar.
“Go wash up in the shower, get dressed, and then come for dinner.”
I try not to rush to the shower, feeling his eyes on the handprints on my ass. I look left and right along the hallway, not wanting either of the other two to see me, then slip into the bathroom.
There’s a little pot on the counter that wasn’t there before.
I open it. The green gel inside reminds me of something I’ve seen a couple of times in the small village pharmacy, its color always catching my attention.
I bring the pot to my nose. The scent is unfamiliar, but cool, and I take a little on my finger and touch it to the back of my hand.
The cooling effect is instant. I look toward the door, wondering whether Talarin or Mero put it here, already looking forward to spreading it over my red ass cheeks.
I set the pot down and turn in front of the mirror, but it’s too high to see my buttocks unless I jump, which I definitely don’t want to do. I pull off my skirt carefully, keeping it from scraping against my tender skin, then run a finger ever so gently over my buttocks, wincing.
I step into the shower and turn it on. The direct spray makes me wince again, and I pull away, turning down the temperature. I let the cooler water run over me, washing away the ruined makeup, keeping my sore bottom out of the direct spray until I can bear to wash it very gently.
When I step out, I dry myself carefully, leaving my buttocks alone, then go straight to the pot. I scoop out a huge glob and spread it over my ass, sighing with relief. Whatever it is, it helps.
Then a little surge of anger comes over me. They could have brought me to the Med-Bay and erased the pain instantly. But they want me reminded of the spanking for the rest of the night, maybe tomorrow too, if the tenderness doesn’t go down.
My stomach rumbles. My body doesn’t care what I’ve gone through. It just knows it wants to eat.
I reach for one of the big robes, then stop myself.
They didn’t tell me I could wear a robe, and the last thing I want is to give them any excuse to punish me again.
There’s an edge of dominance in all three of them that was definitely there before, but it wasn’t showing through so clearly, hidden beneath their care.
I slide the panel open and peek into the hallway, looking for any of the three men. Then I scurry down the hall and up the stairs to the room with the clothes, where just earlier today I was dressing myself up, thinking the days ahead would be like the ones before.
I hadn’t realized what the three men had in store for me.
Mero had that stick in his pocket. He knew what his battle brother was going to do, and he was fine with it. He might have even ordered him to do it.
I wince, closing my eyes hard, then sigh and look toward the closet.
At least they didn’t tell me what to wear. I’ve still got one choice: which clothes I put on.
I walk to the closet. The dresses and other clothes hang without hangers, suspended by some invisible force, and I run my hand over the fabrics. They’re all so soft, so beautifully made. They must have cost a fortune.
All chosen for me.
My hand settles on a particularly soft dress. It stretches a little between my fingers, with short sleeves, a simple neckline, and a hem that would reach my knees. A brownish red, like the leaves turning outside.
I draw it out and hold it against myself, then put it back, looking for underwear.
The drawer slides open softly. I pull out a few pairs before choosing black panties, simple and elegant, the fabric soft between my fingers, and a matching bra.
I pull the panties on carefully, easing them over my tender skin, then put on the bra and take the dress down again. I slip it over my head and smooth it down gently, feeling the soft fabric settle against my bottom without pressing tightly against it.
I turn toward the door, then look back at the makeup table.
I don’t sit. I lean toward the mirror, thinking of Mei’s light, elegant makeup, and study what’s laid out in front of me.
My eyes are still puffy. I find a little pot of cream for them and dab it on carefully, cool against my skin. Then I take the mascara, drawing the little brush from its tube, and apply a light coat, trying to mimic the way Mei’s lashes looked.
I choose a softer lipstick this time, a muted rose, dabbing it onto my lips and blotting away the excess.
By the time I’m finished, the puffiness has gone. I turn my face from side to side, checking my reflection.
Presentable. And at least I don’t look like I was crying.
I walk to the door and hesitate.
Mero said he was going to feed me by hand. I’m not going to be sitting at the table. I’m going to be kneeling beside him, eating from his hand.
A shiver goes through me, because some part of me is looking forward to it. To not having to think about even that.
To just wait there and be fed.