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“Oh, very, Mistress,” the woman pleaded. Jamen detected something in her pathetic tone that sounded contrived and lacking in distress.
There was perhaps no harm in watching.
“Voltas are for off-world military personnel,” Jamen said. “They provide respite from fighting and relaxation. We don’t have them in the senate. They are unnecessary.” He didn’t take his eyes off the girl as she received another whack of the stick. Her bottom quivered in response.
“Oh,” Nillson said, failing to hide his disappointment. “So you don’t have clubs like this?”
Jamen sighed in frustration. He was fed up of explaining Vendu mating practices. “There are pleasure palaces for those that need them, but nothing is hidden. Why do you do this here, in a dingy building? What has she done?”
“Done? Nothing. She’s being disciplined and she likes it, the spanking, the cane. It’s what she requested.” Nillson’s defensive comment was accompanied by a swoosh and whack of the rod.
Jamen slipped past Nillson to get a better look at the young woman. He edged around the dais until he stood alongside her head. A curtain of sandy hair hid her face and she gripped the bench legs with taut knuckles. She inhaled deeply, an audible sucking between teeth followed by a lick of her lips. When the cane touched her between her legs and glided up and down her inner thigh, she moaned softly.
The woman tapped the cane against her bare ass. “Going to be good now, ma cherie?”
She lifted her head and Jamen glimpsed two glassy eyes, but no tears. She twisted her torso so that she was looking right at him, almost through him, then she blinked as if finding her focus. Her lower lip trembled and she lifted her chin to answer.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said in a neutral voice.
He couldn’t stop staring; something kept his attention and he bent slightly to level his head with hers. She blushed and shook the hair out of her watery eyes. Her face screwed up as the cane whipped another faint line across a buttock, then another and another, all in quick succession and forming neat rows. She stomped her foot on the floor, gasping for breath, but remained folded over the padded bench and if there were tears, they weren’t falling like raindrops. She was neither bound nor trapped and there were no enforcers holding her down. If she wanted, she could get up and walk away.
Jamen hadn’t expected a human female to be so submissive. Clearly, his brother had told him the truth.
Nillson touched his elbow. “Come on, there are other rooms—”
“No, no, thank you. I’ve seen enough.” Jamen straightened up, annoyed by Nillson’s constant needling.
“Well, if it’s not your thing,” he sneered.
Jamen was under orders not to offend his human hosts. Too much was at stake to risk jeopardizing their fledging relationships with Earth. He unclenched his fists. “One more room, then.”
He turned back to the bench. The girl was gone and the crowd was dispersing. He searched over their heads, but there was no trace of her. Pity, he thought. For the first time since he’d arrived on Earth, he’d seen someone he fancied knowing more about, especially a female who braved a place like the Bow and Tie. What made her choose to be spanked? And why the spectacle of being watched? Unlike the women of the Voltas who received training, what could this Earthling gain from being disciplined with a rod when there were far more intimate and pleasurable ways to submit?
The next room was less inspiring. One man flogging a tall woman. More of the same perhaps, but different—the couple was playful and laughing. Nillson was right; the club was about fun and pleasure. So why hadn’t the other pair demonstrated it? Something wasn’t right.
Nillson got the message a second time when Jamen requested they leave. During the journey back to his hotel, Jamen almost asked the mayor if he knew the girl but thought better of it. In three weeks he’d be gone; what would be the point in meeting her?
He ignored the mayor and tried hard not to feel disappointed.
Chapter Three
She stuck her head out the door. There wasn’t anyone outside the lecture theater. If the mayor was really gone, she could at least avoid any further embarrassment. She hurried along the corridor to the nearest exit. The quicker she reached home, the better. She couldn’t bear the thought of exposure and having to explain to her fellow students why she went to the Bow and Tie once a week.
Skidding around a corner, she bumped into someone big and bounced off his chest. Peeking up, she saw who blocked her path—the alien. She jumped back and hugged her bag.
“Uh, excuse me,” she muttered. Glancing around, she spotted a few students, but nobody she knew and no sign of Nillson.
The Vendu senator leaned a shoulder against the wall and folded his arms across his beefy chest. “Nice to meet you. Again.” He arched his black eyebrows.
“I’ve never met you,” she said quickly. “You’re mistaken.”
He refused to budge. “She called you ma cherie—what does that mean?”
Mistress Marie. He was talking about the domme who had spanked her ass the previous night. Another visitor to the club, but this one had come from Marseilles. Paige closed her eyes and sighed. “My darling. It’s French. I guess you don’t know French. Your English is excellent.” She had to admit he had a body of a barbarian but was clothed like a smartly dressed executive. The Vendu were physically stronger than humans and built to fight. She barely re
ached his shoulders.
“Thank you.” His eyes gleamed. “I worked hard on learning your language before I left Halos.”
