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“A full scan. Organ checks. Ensure you are not contaminated by contagious matter, especially internally. Afterwards, you’ll be thoroughly cleansed and given the all clear.”
It sounded like a long process and detailed. Too detailed—internal? Did that mean probes and scopes? She peered at the strange contraption hovering over the table.
“Why me? What about you? Why don’t you get your kit off and let yourself be prodded? Perhaps you should go into quarantine with me? Or are you too important to go into quarantine?” she sneered. “I guess they don’t stick senators in isolation, just nasty humans. Do you fancy keeping me company if I refuse or will you kick me back to Earth?” She knew she’d lost it. That once infamous temper of hers that often got her into trouble as a teenager had reared its ugly head. The dominants at the Bow and Tie called it her feisty spells. They’d tamed her, a little. Perhaps not enough going by the expression on Jamen’s face. His lips were pressed together and his arms were rigid by his side.
He looked over her shoulder to the medics and said something in Vendian. They walked past her and out of the room without glancing back.
Paige swallowed down a lump in her throat and dropped her arms.
“Now.” Jamen circled her, stroking the solid outline of his chin with the hook of his forefinger. “You’re protesting about a medical examination that will expedite your arrival on Halos and ensure you are not inadvertently carrying contagions. In doing so, you are refusing my advice and wishes. You’re also suggesting breaking the law by refusing to cooperate.” He summed up her situation with a voice that belonged to a lawyer.
“I’m protesting that I have to do this when you clearly don’t. Is that fair? You’ve been on Earth too.” There was a hole beneath her feet and she probably was tumbling into it with her defiance. Fuck it, she thought, I’m not a doormat. She had to know how far Jamen was willing to go to keep her in line. She was walking a tightrope, she knew it. But, sometimes she had to push back. The elephant in the room had to be addressed—would he discipline her again or had the hotel incident been a one-off?
“I’m not the one questioning the procedures defined by higher authorities than me.” He halted. “I should point out that a hanjin needs regular medical checkups, so let’s begin here with a little indication of what that entails. But first, remove your clothes and bend over the table for your punishment.”
She had her answer. Her knees knocked together. “Say what?” she blurted.
“A good spanking will help you prepare and curb your tongue. I will not be spoken to so disrespectfully in front of others.”
“They didn’t understand me, so what—”
“Clothes off,” he said firmly. “And bend over.” He moved to the table. “Now!”
She hesitated. She was stuck in the in-between place. The one where part of her thought it all very ridiculous and the other part was turned on by the thought of discipline. He wasn’t joking, though; she saw the black pupils of his eyes flare up when she’d answered back. He had a magnificent tone to his voice, too. She could easily respond to it, allow it to draw her in deeper. But, she had to make a conscious decision. He had said several times before they left, that if she wanted to resign from the post and go home, she could. However, she wasn’t that easily dissuaded. More prevalent, almost overpowering her was the need to submit to him and only him, and not doctors or invisible bureaucrats who set rules.
She inched closer to him.
“Keep your eyes lowered. I’m sure you know how to show respect. I won’t ask you to kneel or demand you call me sir—that’s up to you.”
Her knees were close to buckling, but she hadn’t the capacity to go that far, not yet. She did look at the floor and gave him that reflection of demureness.
“Spank me, if you want,” she muttered, walking past him. “I don’t think it will help.” She lied. It was such a huge lie and if he could look inside her head and see what she saw, then he would know she was not saying what she was thinking.
“Oh.” He moved up behind her and yanked down her pants. “I think it will.”
She shrieked as he snapped the waistband of her panties. “No, please don’t strip me. I’ll do it… sir.” The word slipped out of her mouth with ease.
She tore out of her clothing in a hurry to be naked. Usually when she undressed, it was like a performance, conducted like a striptease and for his benefit. This time, speed was of the essence. He was in a different mood. The clothes were heaped in a pile on a stool. The final layer, her bra and panties, took longer to remove. She had to steady her breathing and calm her trembling hands.
Bare and exposed, she bent over the end of the table and pressed her face into the soft padding. It smelled of chemicals, the kind used to clean surfaces. She tucked her arms around her head and pretended they were a hood, hiding herself from any prying eyes.
Jamen nudged apart her feet. “Wider, please. And don’t hide from me. Arms above your head and hands together.”
She straightened her elbows and pressed her palms into a prayer position. She waited, expecting the first spank, but nothing happened. Had her easy capitulation caused him to change his mind? Would she be bothered if it had?
This had to be a test. Maybe for both of them. She could end it, her agreement with Jamen, and catch a flight back to Earth. If he didn’t think she was up to it, he’d probably call it off too. Both scenarios horrified her. She wanted to be with him. But what had happened to the generous lover who’d taken her to his bed and shown her a great time? Had he been left behind on Earth?
He opened a drawer and retrieved something. She couldn’t see what out of the corner of her eye. She rose up on tiptoes and tried to imagine she was back at the Bow and Tie. There she would revel in the excitement, even the audience watching ramped up the adrenaline and gave her the much needed buzz.
He patted something against his palm. It sounded solid. What the hell had he found?
The smack covered both her buttocks and the burning sensation was instantaneous. She jumped up.
“Hold your position, hanjin,” he reproached.
The formality helped. He was distancing himself from his lover and focusing on the task. She needed the gap, or else she would be too confused by her meddlesome emotions.
She lowered herself down and flattened her breasts into the table. Jamen grasped her hips and angled them upward, forcing her feet off the floor. He spread her cheeks apart, as if to inspect what lay between them.
