Galactic Odyssey Ch. 08

From the twentieth stroke on, I allowed myself a groan. There was no chance I could stay quiet, but I didn't scream - there was no way in hell that I would show weakness. Or so I kept telling myself.

When I was halfway through, at twenty-five, I realized that I wouldn't make it. The last time I had taken fifty lashes I had begged and groveled and I had lost control of my bowels - that at least I hoped to avoid, but I had no reason to be optimistic. My rational self was on retreat as I hung there in my restraints, exhausted and helpless. Too weak to even clench my fists, I waited for the next stroke to land.

But it didn't come.

Still in undescribable agony, it took me a while to get it: That fucking asshole had been playing with me.

When the cuffs disengaged, I used my last bit of strength to keep standing. It almost worked, I had to go down on one knee briefly because my legs felt like jelly.

He walked up to me, with a stupid grin on his face. "Now that was lame. I didn't know they reduced energy for you girls. I've seen guys shit themselves before they reached twenty."

Reduced energy?! I gave him the most evil look I was capable of.

"That's a regulation whip, idiot. There's no program for women, it's the same for everyone."

That immediately wiped the grin from his face. "Fucking hell."

I would have given him a piece of my mind, but the attendant already brought the next customer and we had to leave the circle. Without asking, he quickly picked me up and carried me out of the whipping chamber.

*

Outside the shop, after returning the collar, he sat me down on a bench.

"I could have walked, asshole," I said and gave him yet another dirty look. It was a lie, of course. Even standing had been a challenge.

"Gods, you're one tough bitch. The way you took that whipping, I've never seen anything like it. And I've seen plenty back in the navy."

"I practiced a lot."

He grimaced and shook his head.

"Listen. I'm not sure what I did to piss you off, but how about a truce?" he asked.

"A truce?"

"Yes. I don't mess with you and you don't treat me like an idiot. I've got a master's degree in engineering, you know."

"You're right," I said and shook his hand. I knew that my reaction had been childish, like a scorned schoolgirl rather than an adult woman, but lately not a lot had been going my way.

"I was a bit ... miffed that you wouldn't fuck me. We girls don't like being rejected and I'm a bit stressed out with everything that's going on."

"Look, I didn't mean to insult you. I'll clear things with Donnie and if you're still up for it, then let's have at it. Sounds good?"

"Sounds good, but right now, I'm starving. There's a steak house around the corner, let's take Ahmad's expense account for a spin."

*

Back home on the cruiser, things were not going great. Revenue in our test locations improved, but George was in no hurry to reduce my lashes and my motivation for working in a corporate environment was diminishing quickly. Here I was, an adventurer and a smuggler, stuck in an office job, reviewing training plans and revenue numbers.

When I came back from another inspection tour, George was gone on a business trip himself and nobody had the keys to relieve me of my collar. On top of that, because of my frequent absences, I lost my job in maintenance and had to pick up four additional shifts at Kessler's to stay afloat.

Working as a whore in this place was a dead end; I was on a downward spiral that I felt I would never escape on my own. My last bit of bowel control was fading fast and I kept having accidents - I was just glad that Nora wasn't here to see me like this. More and more nights I spent crying in frustration; I was at the end of my rope.

*

A week later, on a Friday morning after another thirty-five lashes, I finally snapped.

Barefoot, and seething with rage, I took a transport to deck one and stomped past Donnie, right into George's office. He had returned the evening before and hadn't found it necessary to drop by and relieve me of that stupid collar.

"I. Am. Done." I shouted, slamming my fist on his desk for emphasis. "You can kill me if you want, you fucking asshole, but I'm not taking another whipping and I'm not wearing that fucking collar anymore. You have pushed me too far, I am done! Done!"

George looked at me and leaned back in his chair, a broad grin on his face.

"Kid, what in seven hells took you so long?"