Chapter 25 High Table, Eve #2
I drain my wine glass, desperate for something to dull my warring emotions, then answer Lira, “They are going to personally oversee my training for the next one hundred and fifty days.”
“That’s an honor,” she says. “But how do you feel about that?”
I pour more wine into my glass. “Nervous,” I say before taking another sip.
“Any woman in the galaxy would trade places with you in half a heartbeat,” Lira says, and the truth is, she's right.
I've fantasized about exactly this over and over again in the countless romance novels I’ve read, powerful men who know my secrets, who want to own me, who see something in me worth claiming.
But fantasies feel different when they become reality.
When the stakes are real. And these stakes go way beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
“Are you alright?” Lira whispers. “You look flushed.”
“I'm fine.”
Then movement at the High Table catches my attention. Rafe has risen now, and a holographic display has materialized near him.
“Before we conclude this evening,” his deep voice fills the hall, “there are disciplinary matters that require public resolution.”
All around me, staff members sit up straighter, and all conversation ceases entirely.
“Han Cor and Sera Na, maintenance and communications respectively,” Rafe reads from his display. “Caught engaging in an Eclipse Kiss in staff quarters. Second offense for both parties.”
I don't recognize the term, Eclipse Kiss. Two beings at different tables stand, one grey-skinned like the Sovereigns, the other with the pale blue skin I'd seen among my receptionist colleagues.
“What's an Eclipse Kiss?” I whisper to Lira.
Her cheeks darken slightly. “Oral pleasure. Mouth to... intimate areas. You know what I mean; she put her mouth… on his penis and… swallowed.”
I stare at her. “That's against the rules?”
“It goes against the Imperial goddesses,” Lira explains quietly.
“Sovereign Lorian makes it a rule for all employees out of respect for his Imperial heritage.
The Sovereigns don't go looking for people breaking rules, but if you're sloppy enough to get caught...” She gestures toward the two terrified beings now walking toward the space between the tables and the High Table.
“Approach for Public Penance,” Lorian commands.
They walk forward with terror written on every line of their bodies.
Two of Lorian's Umbral Cohort step from the shadows, each carrying a device I don't recognize, a metallic rod about the length of a human forearm, with a tip that pulses with blue light.
“Han and Sera,” Rafe's voice is emotionless. “You were warned once about violating moral conduct codes. The penalty for a second offense is Public Penance followed by neural recalibration.”
“Strip,” Lorian orders. “Kneel. Confess your transgressions to the goddesses and beg their forgiveness.”
The two accused remove their clothing with trembling hands, their shame visible to every person in the hall.
I feel embarrassed to watch, but Lira whispers, “You can’t look away or you’ll be punished too.”
So, I force myself to watch as they drop to their knees on the cold floor, naked and exposed.
“Speak,” Rafe commands.
“We... we engaged in an Eclipse Kiss,” the grey-skinned one stammers. “We defiled our bodies in service to pleasure ourselves rather than please the goddesses. We beg for forgiveness.”
“And blood penance,” Lorian adds, producing a small, ornate blade. “Open your veins to prove your sincerity.”
Sister Agnes's voice echoes in my memory: The body is a temple, child. Do not defile it with base desires.
Lorian returns to his seat, and I watch in horror as the accused each make shallow cuts along their forearms, crimson drops falling down their limbs as they grimace with pain.
The Sovereigns don't move from their elevated position, but their attention is absolute, lending the proceedings a ceremonial gravity that makes me frightened about how my time will be spent with such men.
What will they do to me when I get something wrong?
When sufficient blood has been shed, the guards activate their devices.
The tips flare with brilliant light, and they begin beating the guilty couple.
Han and Sera scream so loudly their voices hurt my ears as their naked and bloody bodies convulse—energy crackling along their skin, racing through what must be their nervous systems in patterns that hurt to look at.
It might be my imagination, but I think I can smell burnt flesh. I want to avert my eyes, but I remember Lira’s warning about looking away.
The process lasts maybe ten seconds, but it feels like an eternity. When it ends, they collapse forward, their punished bodies making a slapping sound on the floor as they fall, gasping for breath.
“You have satisfied the goddesses,” Lorian says.
“Return to your duties tomorrow with a clear understanding of your place,” Rafe adds.
The guilty couple nod mechanically and retrieve their clothing, dressing with painful and measured movements before walking back to their tables.
I reach for my wine glass with a shaky hand, draining it despite Lira's sharp look.
“Eve, that alcohol is strong. Perhaps—”
But I'm already pouring another glass. The medieval sci-fi brutality I just witnessed makes my head spin. “I need to dull my mind from what I just saw.”
Lira tries to explain under her breath, “The Sovereigns believe in public punishments. They want the damage to be visible. But, those who have been punished are always allowed to visit Dr. Veil the next day.”
Before I can reply, Sovereign Lorian addresses everyone.“Now then, let us celebrate another successful day in paradise.”
Paradise. That word again. My reaction must show on my face because I catch both the Sovereigns looking at me from across the hall.
“They're already protective of you,” Lira murmurs, and I can hear something like envy in her voice.
I take another gulp of wine, and the world tilts slightly. The floating lights overhead blur into streaks of gold and amber.
“Eve,” Lira warns. “You should stop drinking wine now.”
“I need to numb myself to this,” I tell her and then drink more.
As the evening finally ends with the Sovereigns having formally released us and staff beginning to file out, I try to stand and nearly stumble.
The wine has hit me harder than I expected.
But before I can take a step, two guards in midnight blue uniforms appear beside me. Members of the Umbral Cohort. I freeze.
Will I be punished for being drunk?
“Madame Eve,” one of them says politely. “We'll escort you to your room. A precaution, given how much you've had to drink tonight.”
“That's not necessary—”
“Orders from the Sovereigns themselves,” the other guard interrupts. “For your safety.”
Lira gives me a sympathetic look. “I'll see you tomorrow morning, Eve.”
The guards flank me as we leave the hall, their presence both protective and imprisoning. “Will you be standing outside my door all night?”
“Yes. The Sovereigns want to ensure you're well-rested for tomorrow's training.”
When we reach my room, the guards plant themselves outside my door like statues. I stumble in, the door sliding shut behind me, and I sag against it, wine buzzing through my veins.
As fast as I can, I yank on my strawberry-print pajamas, purchased through the equivalent of a 3D printer for staff. I revel in the cotton-like fabric as it clings to my body, and for a moment the familiar sensation against my skin feels good.
Then the console chimes. Two messages flare in the dark.
“Of course you’re watching. Fine. How about I give you something worth watching.”
I sway to the center of the room and grip the hem of my pajama top. I drag it up slowly, rolling my hips, my free hand cupping my breast, squeezing until my nipple hardens beneath my fingers. I tug at it, savoring the sting, then strip the top off and fling it toward the console like an offering.
“Like that?” I say. I have no idea where the cameras are, but I assume they are all around me.
My bottoms follow, pushed down with exaggerated wiggles of my hips until they fall to the floor. I step free and stand naked, aware of every inch of myself on display.
I trail my hand down to the Venus Lock and it answers instantly, pulsing heat through my clit so sharp I stagger.
A chime pings from the console, Imperial script flaring bright before fading. Logged. Recorded. My body betraying me in real time.
I’m so drunk. Liquid courage is fueling this entire performance. I laugh and slide my fingers along the unyielding device, rocking my hips as if I could make myself come for them, anyway. “Sweet dreams, Sovereigns,” I slur, blowing a mocking kiss. “Don’t choke on them.”
Then I collapse onto the bed, sprawled naked across the silky sheets as the Venus Lock hums mercilessly.
I squeeze my thighs together, wishing I hadn’t touched it.
Then I think about the Sovereigns. Are they masturbating to me right now?
Will they place that goblet in front of me tomorrow morning as the entire hall watches me drink their semen again?
Sleep drags me under with that image burning behind my eyes—the crystal goblet waiting at the High Table, daring me to drink it.
RAFE
She staggers into her suite, drunk from too much wine.
The doors seal, and I watch her. I’m always watching her.
When she steadies herself, she pulls on those absurd human strawberry-print pajamas she spent what little credits she had to have printed for night wear.
For an instant, she looks almost innocent. Almost.
I send a reminder to her that she ought to sleep in the nude because I want her rested for training. That is the excuse. The truth is simpler: I want her stripped. Naked. Sleeping under my gaze.
She reads my command and stubbornly smiles at it, but then begins to strip off her clothing obediently.
My cock hardens instantly.