Page 3 of Trained as His Mate

“I said bend your back and lift your skirts. Or I’ll have the captain do it for you if you so wish.”

Sistra swallowed and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Her face went pale as she realized the hopelessness of her situation and the coming humiliation. She bent at the waist, put her hands behind her back and lifted the heavy skirts, putting her equally frilly undergarments on display for all to see. Then she bent forward further, baring her rear even more prominently and giving everyone a glimpse of the soft, pink folds nesting beneath it covered in a pale and downy hair.

Predictably, her companions began to titter at the sight.

“Silence!” High Mother raged.

The women quieted.

High Mother hooked the crook of her morning wand into Sistra’s underthings and yanked them down her thighs.

The guardsmen on the stairs kept their eyes high and straight ahead, though it seemed to take great effort. Quaia was more interested in the reaction of Captain… Torian, was it? His jaw shifted in distaste beneath his beard.

High Mother’s wand whistled through the air and landed with a crack against Sistra’s bottom cheeks. Almost immediately a large, red welt began to form. This was repeated six more times in keeping with High Mother’s great devotion to the Seven Suns of Punishment.

Sistra, to her credit, took her discipline with unexpected stoicism. But when the final blow had been struck, and the wand pulled away from her rear, it was clear to all who cared to look that the lips of her womanhood had engorged and wetted. They glistened with the clear sheen of her arousal even as her face continued to burn in shame.

High Mother whipped the morning wand again, retracting the extension she used as a cane. She turned to Captain Torian with her chin jutting out. “So then what next?” she demanded.

“Is this the maiden?” he asked, nodding at Sistra who was fumbling with her underwear, trying to get it up her thighs.

“The maiden is over there,” High Mother replied, pointing a crooked finger toward Quaia standing by the Mouth.

Quaia stiffened as the captain’s eyes wandered her way. That funny feeling, that ticklish sensation formed in her stomach again as his gaze came to rest on her. All her practiced dignity evaporated and suddenly she felt more helpless and exposed than she ever had. Trying to stand straight and proud felt awkward and put on. Still she held her chin high.

The captain stepped around Sistra and walked briskly to where she was standing, his heavy boots clacking on the polished floor. “And what is your name, if I may ask?” He stared directly into her eyes, either not distracted by, or too professional to let them wander down, her scantily clad body.

“Quaia Sangsen,” Quaia replied.

He threw another salute and bow before standing up to tower over her again. “Captain Torian of the Imperator Guard.” He looked at her for a moment. “You’ve been expecting this day, no doubt?”

“I have,” she said, unable to keep a wryness out of her voice.

“Then I hope it won’t come as too much of a disappointment that the protocols have changed somewhat.” He raised his voice so that all could hear. His tone, almost polite toward Quaia, hardened into an authoritative condescension that must have made High Mother’s temper flare.

Quaia, suddenly feeling as if under a trance, looked back at him in muted confusion, and her mouth fell open. The captain at a distance was imposing. The captain this close was terrifying in an unexpectedly delightful way.

He continued to look at her, while High Mother began to sputter.

“I asked you a question.” It was his voice, his lips moving. “The protocols have changed. I hope you will not be disappointed by the change.”

She was obviously expected to speak. “I… hope not?” she said quietly, totally confused.

High Mother was now yelling, but the sound came to Quaia as though through leagues of water in the storage tanks. The only thing she could process was the Vokl in front of her, who had somehow caused her heart to begin beating furiously and confusion to reign in her mind.

And everyone else’s. High Mother’s distorted warblings were still being emitted, next to Quaia’s ear. But they didn’t pierce the bubble that had enveloped the captain and Quaia.

Unexpected, she thought.

And what the Suns did it mean? Where was Goethen?

Nothing at all had transpired, even if it had felt like seven years since the answer to her question, seven years of the Vokl staring at her with his peculiar, unreadable eyes. Her heart flipped and a cool feeling she didn’t recognize at all moved in her abdomen.

“Then we shall get started,” he said, his voice calm but loud enough to dwarf the incessant protestations of High Mother. For a fleeting moment, his eyes raked down Quaia’s frame, and she almost felt as if he had touched her as he did so.

She quivered. His arm shot out to the side, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Quiet that woman!” he ordered.

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