Judgment (17 page)

Though he peeled back my clothes to rub that cool, tingling ointment into me, his was an impersonal hand. The heat actually felt good today. It seeped into my skin, soothing everywhere I ached, especially my joints. And while he did not touch me sexually, when he rubbed into the inner slopes of my thighs, his knuckles grazed up against my already moistening slit and a sensual shiver raced through me.

Tane noticed at once. "Don't you dare come for him," he warned me. Though he smiled when he said it, there was a dark look to his eyes that had me determined to ignore Gansel's touch as best I could.

But it still felt good.

"That time again already," Master Deaton asked.

I glanced up at the only three Elites in the room. All were trembling. The closest to me, Amber, had her hands clenched into tight fists behind her and there were tears dropping from her cheeks to the floor.

"Amber," Tane said. "Spirit, and Garnish. Join the line in the hall."

As the Elites filed slowly outside, with the opening and closing of the door, I heard a good deal of sniffling from the 151

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Lessers outside. This moment would come for each of us, and we all knew it. For the females in the hall, their fates were now realized, but I don't think a one of them wanted to leave.

As often as we were subjected to the most brutal of treatments here, the unknown on the Outside was by far more terrifying to consider.

Tane walked up and down in front of the cowering Lessers as Gansel rearranged my clothes and helped me back into my chair. I was the only one in the room sitting at a desk. It was unnerving and made me so uncomfortable that I tried to get back down on the floor, but Gansel's hand on my shoulder wouldn't let me.

"Stay where you are, Mischief," he told me.

Tane tapped the shoulder of the female before him. "Rise."

She rose gracefully into Posture Two, spreading her knees so wide apart that each touched the Lesser to either side of her.

"Hello, Mirth," he said. There was an underlying gentleness in his tone that I recognized instantly. That was the one he used when he spoke to me. A startling shock of jealousy swept through me that he would use the same soothing tone of voice on Mirth. Had I been able to raise my arms higher than my waist, I'd have thrown myself at her, the hook-nosed, long-faced, flaxen-haired sow!

The intensity of such an unkind thought shocked me. Mirth had done nothing to deserve my enmity, except to be kidnaped the same as I. I was suddenly very ashamed of myself.

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"Have you been disciplined yet this week?" Tane asked her.

With a whispered trepidation that humbled me even more, Mirth said, "Yes, sir. My barracks master gave me the strap for Untidiness, sir."

"Your barracks master is Rodman, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you still untidy?"

"No, sir."

"Nothing quite like a lick or two of leather to help inspire reform."

Her small shoulders sagged a little. "Yes, sir."

"Boyden," Tane smiled down at the top of Mirth's bowed head. "Notify Master Rodman that Mirth is to receive a dose of his strap each morning and night for the next week. Let's see what other lovely reforms we can inspire in her."

Master Boyden made a mark in his book. "As good as done."

Tane reached over the next girl in line and raised her pink Midpoint's skirt. "Bare, smooth and pale. Hutch, give Darling here six of your best. We don't want her feeling neglected."

Then he moved on and Hutch came forward, brandishing his birch. He took hold of Darling's ear and drew her out of line on her hands and knees. Clasping her neck between his legs, he flipped up her skirt and lay six harsh, swishing strokes across her backside. Darling yelped with each wristy smack, the switches fanning out and raising many welts at once. The tips were the worst of all, leaving reddish-purplish dots as they whipped into the tops of her thighs, and 153

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sometimes even catching the tender pouch of her pussy, which made Darling's entire body jump as she screeched.

Tane waited until Hutch was finished and Darling was back in her row, sniffling with her head bowed to the floor, before selecting his next victim. "Hello, Mahogany."

We all heard her swallow. "Hello, sir."

"You may rise," he allowed.

"Thank you, sir." But she hesitated for just a moment, as if trying to steel herself for what she knew was coming.

"Better yet, why don't you present," he said when she had finally assumed Posture Two.

My jealousy hit me with the speed and force of a locomotive. I didn't want him looking at her! She was prettier than I!

I tried to stand up, but my legs were weak and hurt and in my haste wouldn't work right. All I succeeded in doing was falling to one knee, bumping my desk noisily in the process, and attracting the attentions of every master in the room.

They all glared at me, and Tane was no longer smiling as he watched me struggle to fold myself into Posture Three.

There are a hundred and seventy different types of muscles in the human body, and I felt every one of them shrieking in protest as I bent myself backwards. My body buckled and I collapsed flat on my back with my legs half under me, panting and unable to move so much as a finger.

Master Deaton appeared above me, hands on his hips.

"And just what was that supposed to get you, hm?"

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The ointment was still working its heating magic. As I lay there with my legs awkwardly bent and my arms flopped out at my sides, unmoving, I almost felt comfortable.

Tane appeared above me just across from Master Deaton.

His eyes glittered with something that almost looked like amusement. "I thought I told you to stay in your chair."

"You just had to name her Mischief," Deaton said, shaking his head.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"That sort of thing encourages bad behavior."

Tane raised his head to fix Sub-Master Gansel—who had covered his face with one hand while he laughed at me—with a mildly irritated stare. "Did she somehow get away from you?"

The Sub-Master sobered at his tone. "My apologies, sir. I wasn't expecting her to do that."

Tane turned that same look back on me. "If I weren't so certain that putting you to the Rack would dislocate your shoulders right now, I'd give you a demerit for disobedience.

Master Deaton, would you happen to have an extra birch in the room?"

Deaton arched a dark eyebrow. "You must be joking. How many switches do you fancy: three, five, seven, or nine?"

"Five should do nicely. Are they pickled?"

Very drily, Deaton said, "You are joking." He clasped his hands loosely behind his back. "My birches have sat in brine for so long, I guarantee they'll out last any bottom in here.

Dawn! Fetch a fiver."

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The Lesser scrambled to her feet and hastened to the birch column. She selected a willowy verge and brought it back to the masters.

"The most obedient little helper I've ever had," Deaton commented.

"Really?" As Tane took the wicked looking implement from her proffered fingertips, he said, "Congratulations, Dawn.

You're an Elite for a day. Go join the line in the hall."

"Yes, sir." Obediently, Dawn headed for the door. But as she walked out to take her place with the others, she wrung her hands fretfully.

"Wonderful. Now I'll have to find a new fetch-and-carry girl," Deaton said mildly.

Tane handed Gansel the birch. "Hold her on your lap, Sub-Master. If she tries to get down again, give her a few licks with that."

"Yes, sir."

I watched as the birch passed from hand to hand above me. The funny thing was, it didn't particularly bother me that I hovered on the edge of a whipping. Oh, I felt a little trepidation as Sub-Master Gansel lay that bundle of switches upon my desk and bent to gather me in his arms. But as he cradled me on his lap and as Tane graced me with another of his bemused smiles before turning his attention back to Mahogany—poor Mahogany, who'd been made to hold that torturous position and was now shaking like a leaf in an autumn gale—I felt as though I were truly cherished.

"Rise," Tane told her, and that made me happy, because he hadn't time to really look at her. He must not have wanted 156

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to. He'd probably just wanted to make her suffer. I was okay with that.

"Have you been disciplined this week?" he asked her.

"No, sir," she whispered.

"No? What a pity. A lovely bottom like yours deserves thrashing at least on a weekly basis. You certainly deserve it.

Just look at the poor state you've put my Mischief in."

Mahogany obligingly turned her head, but the look she gave me was even less friendly than the one I shot her in return.

"I think we have a bit of rivalry here that needs addressing," Tane said, noting both our stares.

"I believe so," Deaton agreed as he gave me a quelling glare. Dryly, he said, "Mahogany has always been so perfectly well-behaved. I wonder where this misbehavior comes from."

"Pride, I think, is the culprit here," Tane drawled. "I don't believe there is a female in this room entitled to any of that.

Hutch, relieve Mahogany of her lingering pride."

Mahogany was abandoned to the Black Master's more than capable hands. There was a startling stillness among the rest of us as he pulled her out to him and into position with her head between his knees. It was as if we held out collective breaths just before the birch switches rent the air to lay a sudden, sharp—whick!—across her bare flanks.

Mahogany gasped, and as Tane passed by me on his way to the next row of kneeling Lessers, he bent to whisper hot against my ear, "Don't think you've gotten away with anything here, Infant. We've plenty to talk about later tonight, just you and me and that little birch beside you."

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I looked down at it as though it were a coiled and hissing snake about to bite me. The steady whicks of the spanking in progress and Mahogany's increasingly frantic yelps had me sitting very tensely on Gansel's thighs. I had never been birched before, but I had often seen the damage one did and it was frightening to listen to a female, who could always take Deaton's cane in relative silence, losing her composure under a rain of eighteen whistling strokes.

"This one here—" Tane tapped another Lesser on the knee with the toe of his shoe. "See that she gets a good thrashing for breaking posture when you're done there, Hutch. She's been peeking. A Lesser who enjoys the suffering of a sister deserves to suffer a little herself. Pin a demerit to her uniform as well, Master Boyden. A few thumps with a cane on top of fresh birch welts should teach her to keep her eyes properly on the floor."

Hutch never looked up. He continued to lay into Mahogany until the pretty dark-haired female was writhing to get away.

Her yelps turned to shrieks, then desperate sobs. By the last stroke, the ends of the birch were beginning to break away.

He left her flesh a mottle of welts, peppered by dark, blister-like spots, and Mahogany weeping on the floor.

I stared in horrified wonder. I don't think there was a drop of blood left in the faces of the Lessers around her; they were all so pale and shaken.

"Up with you, Faith," Tane said, tapping a quivering female's shoulder. "Go on out to the hall."

She all but fled the room, no doubt grateful to be getting out without first taking a session with that birch herself.

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"You're stripping my barrack," Master Deaton remarked.

Tane walked to the end of the second row and stopped. He looked at Desire, then raised an eyebrow to Deaton.

"Don't even think about it," his brother said implacably.

"She's been here a year longer than any of the Elites. I won't keep her a Midpoint indefinitely. You'd better decide what you want. If you don't want a Personal, then she's an Elite and needs to take her place in the hall."

Master Deaton stared back at him, devoid of emotion, for a long time. "Yes," he finally said.

"Yes, what? Yes, she needs to go to the hall, or yes, she's a Personal?"

"Yes, she's not going anywhere."

"You've only been tormenting her for four years. It's about time you took her for your own."

Tane headed down the third row of Lessers, but when he stopped, I heard a sudden, panicky whisper from the cowering female at his feet, "Oh no, sir, please sir ... oh no, not me ... sir, please oh please, not me ... spare me ... oh no, sir, please, sir..."

I could have told her begging did no good. I probably knew that better than any other Lesser in that room. I begged religiously every night I spent in his chambers, and it hadn't helped me once.

"If there's one thing I can't stand," Tane said, pulling her from her row by her ear. "It's whining. Give me a beggar, a pleader or a sniveler any day."

"No, no ... Sir, please sir..." The Lesser broke completely down and a physical struggle ensued.

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"Why you disobedient bit of baggage!" Tane's tone took on a harshness I'd never heard from him before as he dropped her to the ground and tried to pin her on her stomach. Like an eel, she wriggled to stay on her side or back, thwarting his efforts and begging all the while.

"Get your backside up, Mouse," he snapped. "Deaton get me a cane!"

Handing his own cane to Tane, Deaton then reached down to grab Mouse by the back of her uniform, tossing her face-down over the nearest desk. One hand between her shoulders pinned her there, while he grabbed her wrists when she tried to cover her bottom with her hands.

Tane pointed to the Lessers behind him with the end of the cane. "Move," he barked at them, and they scattered well out of his cane's swinging range.