Betrayed (Hidden Worlds Book 1) Read online

  Rohan nodded and continued. "Ye must understand that the things ye saw… below… It's great secrets, they are. Ye must never speak o' it to the girls… and no doubt they'll be having questions for ye, will be wondering who ye are and where ye go every day… Ye canna be telling em. If they pester ye too much, tell Suse. But ye must mind Suse and mind your manners here. Because if ye don't, the only other place we can put ye, lass, is in the jail. And I'm not wanting to do that."

  Suddenly, the reality crashed over me. "You're leaving me here?" His face darkened again, a mixture of frustrations and exasperation. "Lord." I blurted quickly, and he laughed. I don't know why I asked if her were leaving me. The last thing I thought I wanted was to stay anywhere near the man who had just punished me twice in barely an hour… and was clearly ready to do it again if he thought it necessary. Yet, he was familiar… in his own way, talked to me as if I were a thinking human being, and at least he had offered me a tantalizing promise of something interesting to do. To be left here with these… sullen stupid children…

  "Aye. I must for now. But I'll be back to be taking you down to the ship. Anyway, even though you should be wife long since, there's much ye need to learn… and Suse will be teaching you."

  "She knows, then, what will be happening if she doesn't mind?"

  Rohan laughed. "Oh, aye. I've spanked her twice in the last hour. She's knowing well enough." I clenched my jaw, hating him again.

  "She's been cleaned?"

  "Aye." I could see Rohan's grin out of the corner of my eye.

  Their tendency to discuss people as if they were not there was simply awful—and then I got an inkling of a truth. Somehow, to them, unmarried women were not… people.

  "Checked her myself. Smooth and pretty as can be." He tipped my chin up. "But she needs to be marked. I'll make arrangements for it this afternoon. Be best if it can happen before the others are seeing her bum, I'm guessing." He turned to me. "Now ye be minding Suse. She'll not be spanking you for an honest mistake, lass, like I said, but I picked her for my own sisters because her hand's harder than most. And ye'll be feeling it sure enough, if ye don't watch your mouth and your doings." He stepped to leave, then turned back towards me for one moment. "You're a pretty lass, Jen Marin. A fine pretty lass." He reached out and touched my cheek with one long, thick finger. Behind him, I caught a sudden motion, and I saw two faces, below coiled braids, watching us through a small window that faced out to the courtyard. "Ye'll be happy here." And that was it. He walked away, his stride long and sure.

  The door shut with a thud, and I turned to look at Suse. Perhaps they had interpreted my silence for acceptance, but actually it was nothing of the sort. I was simply so shocked I could not speak. I was to be marked? The clothes were bad, and "cleaned" had been worse. But at least what they had done to me so far was not permanent. Clothes could be changed; hair grew back. But a mark… a tattoo? Yet, how could I object? I'd objected to my first examination at the hands of the physician… and I'd been strapped down and examined anyway. I'd protested the penetration of my bottom earlier this morning, and I'd been drawn over the Matron's lap and held down like a child, and had my temperature taken and my bottom cleaned with hot water regardless. If I objected to this, did I have any hope of changing their minds? Frantic, I looked at Suse, wanting to protest, but I hardly knew where to start.

  Suse seemed oblivious to my turmoil. Her face was matter-of-fact, not friendly, but not cruel either. "Have ye eaten anything, lass?"

  I shook my head and extended my arm vaguely, still trying to figure out how to address this marking situation. "The Matron…below… said I was fed through here."

  Suse looked at the bruising around where the needle had been placed and winced. "Ach, ye poor lassie." She sighed. "Well, are ye wanting something now?"

  I thought about it. My last actual meal had been breakfast on the Drakkon, three days earlier… Did that ever seem like a century past! Yet I wasn't hungry… not even thirsty. "No, Matron."

  She walked around me, her black gown whispering, eyeing me critically. "For today, that'll do, I'm guessing. But it's a tiny thing you are, and we need to be putting some fat on that bum if your hoping to find a husband."

  I was so stunned by the comment that I forgot my fear of the woman, forgot that that very "bum" was still stinging from two previous punishments, and forgot that I had been promised quite explicitly that it would happen again should I offend. I laughed out loud. "I'm not hoping to find a husband," I snapped. "What in the world makes you think…"

  Suse's face showed her frustration. She grasped my arm… not roughly, but quite firmly, and drew me over towards a bench in the little garden. "No… please…" I begged, hating myself, but not able to bear another blow falling on my still-hot backside.

  Suse sat and drew me to, amazingly, sit next to her. I winced as my itching cheeks pressed against the bench. Suse laughed, a dry chuckle. "Ye're learning, aren't ye? No, I'll not be spanking ye… this time. I'm knowing that we're needing to be talking about this some, in spite of what Rohan thinks… that a lass is told once and any more telling comes through a bottom warming. Ye've come from a place where ye're not needing a husband, I know it, lass. Well, here, ye need to get that nonsense out o' your head. All quick. And no matter what ye're thinking in that little head, ye canna be saying it in front o' the other girls. Like it or no, there's no place here for a grown lass with no husband. And all opened like ye are…" She stopped briefly, and swallowed hard, as if the shock of this was too much, even for her. "For awhile, ye'll be working down… where ye came from. It's not decent, an unmarried lass among all those men, but there's no way around that, for we need ye too much. But the day will come, lass, when ye'll be going to the maidens' school, like all girls do, and getting the training, then meeting a husband. And the sooner you come to know that this is true, the happier you'll be here. Otherwise, you'll spend the rest of your days standing up, I can promise you that."

  I sensed that Suse, at least for the moment, really wanted to help me understand. "Don't you see how wrong this is?" I asked desperately. "Women here are no more than abused prisoners, disgusting sex slaves."

  "Don't you be saying it, lass. There's no better path than to be wife and mother, under the protection of a fine strong man. It's what we believe, and it's what all our girls are trained for. Ye'll be no different. And a good hard spanking is not abuse." She snorted as if this was so ridiculous it was hardly worth discussing. "When a lass has a stinging bottom, it just keeps her head on what it should be." Then she repeated something that Rohan had said earlier. "At least no one here wants to be blowing your little head off."

  Of course, I could say nothing to that, so I went back to my original contentions. "How did you get this way?" I cried. "How can you desire this? I was a professor … a scholar, you could say, on Earth and…"

  Suse's grip on my arm was quick and brutal. "You never never say that word. Never. Unless your below with Rohan. Up here, it's not safe. Especially now."

  I knew what she meant instantly and had a cold thought. "The remotes," I breathed. "But how can this be safe? What if they see… me?"

  Suse's face went still and her eyes went wide at once. "But how could they, lass? There's no place here for them to be hiding."

  "Hiding?" I looked at her incredulously. "A stationary remote is about the size of your fingernail. And we drop them by the thousands."

  She was not slow… that much I had to give her credit for. Without speaking, she rose, her face still as stone, and she drew me along through an arched doorway with her into the castle. We entered a small, comfortable room. Raisa and Cheri were sitting on a small padded bench, their heads bent low in conversation. Marlou, I noticed with a shock, was standing in a corner with her trousers at her ankles and her tunic held up, exposing a bottom that was mostly white, showing just a light pink blush. Remnants from past days? Probably, I realized with my stomach clenching. Considering how often physical chastisement seemed to be used, these gir
ls probably went about with pinkened cheeks all the time. I felt the warm itchy tenderness in my own bottom. It looked like I was going to be joining the club. Hanging from the wall, near when Marlou was standing, was a long limber stick, a flat wooden paddle, and a black leather strap, similar to what I had seen the Matrons use at the school. I went completely cold.

  Like Cheri, Marlou's right cheek bore the mark of the intertwining rings, and then I remembered what Suse had said just before we started talking about the remotes. I was to be marked? Would it hurt? It must. I knew little of tattoos… the custom, of course was completely dead on Earth, but from my historical studies I had a definite impression that needles were used. I felt my stomach grip in fear.

  "Go back to your music, girls," Suse said quietly. Marlou turned to look back over her shoulder, surprise evident in her eyes. "You, too, Marlou. Something's happened, and I'll be gone for a moment. I'll be seeing to ye later." Marlou didn't need to be told twice. She jerked her trousers up rapidly. The girls moved away, into yet another room. Suse came over to me and spoke quietly. "Go on in with them, Jen. I need to get Rohan at once. I guess ye can see we didn't realize about… what ye just told me. It could be we'll have to be keeping ye below, after all. Fer now, though, just stay in here, away from the windows. And if the bairns pester ye, just ignore them. But I think they'll leave ye be. Rohan warned them, and they don't take his word lightly, I'll tell you that for nothing." And with that, she swept away, leaving me to walk slowly through the door, into the room where the three girls had gone ahead of me.

  Three faces lifted up to look at me the moment I walked through the door. Cheri and Marlou looked wary, and Raisa's face darkened with hostility. Without warning, she rose and walked over to me. She was the tallest of the three, almost six feet tall, which made her at least four inches taller than me. In spite of the fact that I assumed her to be no more than eighteen Earth years, still considered a child on Earth, I found myself backing off from her. "I saw him touch ye, ye fine bitch. He's mine," she hissed, only inches from my face. "Rohan's mine. We're promised. And if your forgetting it, we have ways o' making ye sorry. Verra sorry."

  Astonished, I sank down into a small chair. What next? Christ, what next? Exhausted, I wondered just what in the world, what in this world, was going to become of me?

  Chapter 11

  I sat for several minutes, not speaking to the other women. Cheri, Marlou, and Raisa glared at me; I tried not glare back. The silence grew deafeningly. When they saw that I was not going to be intimidated, they started to ignore me and went back to some work in front of them. Before long, though they were giggling.

  Their anger I could ignore, but like any woman I wondered at their amusement. Finally, I could help myself no longer. "Why are you laughing?" I snapped.

  "Yer hair," Marlou responded maliciously. "It's just so funny, it is."

  I reached up and touched my cropped locks. Yes, to them, I guess my hair did seem "funny." Every woman and girl I'd seen with her hair exposed had had long hair, wrapped up in braids around her head in an old-fashioned style I'd seen in historical works on Earth. "It's comfortable," I shrugged. "Easy to take care of."

  They looked interested in spite of themselves, Raisa, who was still pouting mightily, less so. "But how did your Fa allow it? The cutting, I mean." Cheri asked, wide-eyed, as her fingers went up unconsciously to finger her own coiled plaits.

  "I come from a pla—" I stopped myself just in time from saying "planet," "…place," I continued, "where women cut their hair as they please… do as they please."

  This comment brought quite a reaction from all three, even Raisa, who could no longer feign disinterest. All three went wide-eyed in amazement. Finally, Cheri spoke, and I realized that the hesitation in asking the question was caused by the concept of any sort of self-determination being simply so alien. "But… why?"

  "Why… what?" I wanted to draw her out, even though I sensed what she was asking.

  "Why can women… do as they please?" The three girls watching me were almost motionless waiting for the answer.

  "Why should women not be able to do as they please?" I countered.

  "Because men… are the guardians."

  This was a phrase I had not yet heard. "The guardians of what?"

  The girls exchanged shocked glances. "The guardians of everything…" Cheri answered, her voice trailing off. I got the impression again that they thought me as odd as a two-headed dog.

  "And why is that?" I countered.

  The girls again looked at each other as if enlightenment would suddenly shine from another's eyes. "Because that's the way it always has been."

  "Not where I come from," I responded with a flippant shrug. Let the little bitches wallow in their curiosity. In spite of being happy that I was alive and that I had not had my head blown off, I was certainly not pleased to be here. And anything I could do to cause Rohan and his minions of "matrons" a little grief, I would do. Raising some consciousness right here and now was a good start—even if, as I remembered a twentieth century analogy, they did not appear to wear any bras to burn—as long as I didn't get caught, I amended with a clutch in my stomach. I shifted where I sat, still feeling the itchy tender burn in my backside. As long as I didn't get caught, I repeated.

  Furtively, Marlou glanced up at the door. "And where do ye come from?" she asked quietly. Clearly she was intelligent enough already to have figured out that whatever the mystery was surrounding me, my place of origin had a lot—perhaps even everything—to do with it.

  Cheri was not so brave, and even Raisa, who had seemed so bold, gave Marlou a surprised glance. "Marlou," Cheri hissed, "are ye remembering what Matron said? And Han? I'll not be sitting here if you're to be asking questions like that. And you with a spanking already coming to you. You're a brave one, lass." Cheri rose abruptly and walked over to where a bookshelf rested up against the wall, nervousness apparent in every motion.

  Raisa expression became catty. "It's telling on both of ye, I am." She smirked at Marlou and then at me. "It'll be the linden for this… and no dinner with 'Han, I'm thinking. I'll be dining fine in his suite, and you'll be at the wall with your bums throbbing. Suze might even be thinking you're needing a cleaning." She grinned at that prospect.

  Marlou immediately bristled and looked at Raisa furiously. "Oh, and are ye remembering why I'm due a spanking as it is? For tale-bearing," she finished triumphantly. Raisa responded by looking at Marlou for a long moment, then glanced away with a pout. It appeared as if the arrow had hit home. Her plan, I reflected, may well have been foiled. Clearly, the whole thing was about keeping me from that dinner… and possibly earning me a punishment. I already sensed, in amazement, that these girls, as much as they detested being punished themselves, looked eagerly for ways to get the others into trouble.

  Bored and restless, I walked over to where Cheri stood glancing through a book. It was large and heavy, and looked very expensive. There seemed to be few books; I remembered that in the office of the matron at the girls' school there were no books, either, and now that I recalled it the girls at the school had held slates of some sort before them on their desks. Perhaps the technology to make cheap paper had not yet been developed here. Again, I considered the inconsistencies of this world, astonished. They had some complicated technology; the auto doors in the caves below, for example, and yet they had no paper. Stranger and stranger.

  Although I had no real desire to be "friends" with these girls, I could also see that nothing would be gained by truly antagonizing them. Although the outcome of the conversation that was happening at this very moment between Suze and Rohan might be that I was not going to continue living here in this part of the castle, there was also a chance that I may remain with them at least part of the time. They were eager enough to get each other into trouble—and presumably they liked each other. If they hated me, my life could be hell. So when Cheri saw me approach and smiled at me shyly, offering me the heavy tome, I took it with a small smile of than
ks. It was something to do more interesting than gazing at the walls.

  Or so I thought. And then I opened the book, and was again so shocked it was if someone had punched me in the stomach. The book was obviously very valuable; a thick leather cover inlaid with what appeared to be gold leaf, heavy, beautiful paper which I suspected was handmade, illustrations that looked to be individually colored. It was a story book… an odd strange storybook. "For the Formation of Wives," a beautifully illustrated front piece proclaimed. Each page had a small amount of text; each facing page, a full color illustration. Cheri smiled. "We're allowed to look at this one whenever we want," she offered.

  I paged through in silence, my outrage growing. A table of contents listed eight separate stories in the book, and although the settings and characters were different, the plots were strikingly similar. Each recounted the story of a young woman, referred to almost everywhere as a "bride," who was caught in some sort of disobedience. Some were lazy, some dishonest, one girl, whose husband apparently thought her too thin, was caught discarding food; another, dreadfully, was apprehended lying in bed touching herself erotically. Each story, though, ended in a similar fashion; the unfortunate young bride was spanked by her massively huge, devilishly handsome husband. I turned the heavy ornate pages in horror. All the young wives were punished severely, always on a bottom bared by separating the girls' trousers widely, and in all the full color illustration, the girls' bodies were displayed graphically, the widespread thighs, the open, shaved sexes, even the small pink anus, all between bottom cheeks that varied in color from pink to dark, dark red.

  I was especially drawn to the tale of the unfortunate bride discovered by herself in bed. The illustrations were vividly explicit; the husband walked through the bedroom door behind the massive bed, his face a show of shock and fury. The next picture showed the wife kneeling forward on the bed, her legs spread widely, her bottom up in the air, while she was punished on her spread open sex with a limber stick topped with a small square of what appeared to be leather.