Palau Palsu: Love For Sale

One of the guards removed her jacket and picked up a cane, giving it several experimental swings; to my surprise, it appeared flexible, like a whip rather than a stick. I could hear a swishing sound as it cut through the air.

The woman stepped into place behind and to Ceci's left, assuming a position almost like a batter in baseball, the cane held in both hands. When she swung she threw her whole body into the motion; the cane was a blur, and the malignant whine as it cut the air was much louder. I winced at the loud "whack" when it hit Ceci's exposed backside.

The blows alternated sides, about 30 seconds apart. I flinched in sympathy with each impact; it looked incredibly painful. Ceci appeared to be trying to take them stoically, but with only limited success; she moaned loudly following the first blow, gave a sharp cry with the second, but shrieked despairingly with the last. She lay slumped limply across the A-frame as they released her ankles and wrists and removed the protective padding, but I could hear her quietly sob as they rubbed liniment on the three dark red weals crossing her bare bottom. Ceci seemed unsteady on her feet as they pulled her upright and wrapped the robe over her shoulders, but followed obediently as they led her over to stand next to Lena. I could see tears rolling down her cheeks when she turned to face the camera.

Lena's treatment was nearly identical. After watching her mother's punishment there was raw fear on Lena's face as she turned away from the camera, but she followed the guards without protest and allowed herself to be strapped in place.

Like her mother, Lena tried to remain quiet, but with even less success; her howl of agony on the last stroke barely sounded human. Like Ceci, she had collapsed limply in place while they released her and needed to be pulled upright. If anything, she was crying harder than her mother had; as they led her away from the frame I could see her nose running and heavy tears coursing down her face. She looked absolutely miserable.

Both were still sobbing and streaming tears as they hobbled from the room. I wished, desperately, that that I could somehow have reached out to comfort them.

Adam politely cleared his throat behind me. I don't know how long I'd sat silently staring at the blank screen after the video finished. I gulped the rest of my scotch, then coughed. Without comment, Adam refilled my glass and put it beside my hand.

I swallowed another mouthful before speaking. "That was horrible. I know that it's not supposed to cause permanent damage, but it's hard to believe after watching it."

He nodded, then added. "I quite agree. It was, however, both necessary and merited." He looked sympathetic, but there was no give in his tone.

I took another swallow from my glass before replying.

"Necessary?" I couldn't keep an edge of anger from my voice.

"Necessary. It's a mandatory part of the sentence for the crimes they chose to plead guilty to. 'Pour encourager les autres', as the French say. The judge was merciful -- there is a range, and he imposed the absolute minimum required."

His voice hardened slightly. "And quite merited. Even the ladies agreed that it was appropriate. I believe that their original plea bargain request they only asked, if possible, to limit the cane to six strokes apiece. And each privately begged that if more were required that they alone receive the excess, to spare the other. I suspect that is why the judge used his discretion to reduce their punishment as far as possible."

They'd already sacrificed themselves in an attempt to shield Lena's father. I could easily believe they'd do the same to shield each other. I took another mouthful of scotch and swallowed convulsively. "I won't say 'I agree', but I understand. And yes, I can see Lena or Ceci trying to protect each other."

"Indeed. They are both admirable women. Although they committed quite serious crimes, crimes that fully justified the sentences the primary defendants received, their motivation was to shield another -- former Minister Tan, their husband or father. Again, it made it much easier for the judge to reduce their sentences to the minimum."

I nodded morosely. "I never knew it was this bad. When Lena first complained that she was unhappy with some of the things she needed to do, I begged her to quit her job. She told me she needed to be there for her father. Later on, once I knew things had gone beyond 'unsavory' to 'illegal', I begged her to report it immediately and got the same answer. She was -- is -- an idealist, you know? She genuinely loves Palau Palsu and she was proud to be working to make her country better. Seeing this -- being a part of it -- made her desperately unhappy. But she felt she had no choice but to protect her father, especially since her mother was committed to doing the same. I don't know Ceci as well, but we've talked enough that I'm sure she felt as compelled as Lena."

"But 'fully justify the sentences'? They all got 25 years or more, and at least 20 strokes. Yes, I can understand adding additional time due to the deaths and damage they indirectly caused, but it still seems high."

For the first time, I saw a flash of anger cross Adam's face. "I must disagree. Even without the deaths of my cousin, his assistants, and the construction people I can easily justify a more severe punishment. Indeed, these same charges in my grandfather's day would have been considered capital crimes; they would be facing hanging, not imprisonment. Before weighing the deaths of 57 people and a replacement cost that will require us to limit most other infrastructure spending for the next decade."

I thought about that before replying. He was quite correct, and he'd still gone well out of his way to be patient with me.

"You're right, Adam. I apologize. And you have my sincere condolences for the loss of your cousin." His expression softened, and he nodded his acceptance.

A thought crossed my mind. "- and his staff. Adam, are you also a member of the royal family? Should I be using a title?"

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I have that honor. My late cousin and I shared a grandfather with our current King, but there are many of us; our grandfather had four wives and a dozen children, after all. I really do prefer that you continue to use my name, but my formal title is 'Pengiran' -- 'Prince', in English. It sounds more impressive than it really is, but does give me connections and access that my official position here might not warrant."

I blinked. "I'll bear that in mind -- Adam. Thank you for your courtesy. Might I ask you to explain more about the severity of the crime? You said that even before the deaths and economic damage it was far more serious than I'd thought."

It was his turn to pause before replying.

"Rick, to fully understand the background you must understand that in the first years after independence Palau Palsu we had at least as severe a problem with corruption and bribery as our less fortunate neighbors. Possibly worse; not only was bribery, embezzlement, and cronyism a significant drain on our resources but ordinary people -- the vast majority of whom could not afford to pay bribes -- were unable to obtain needed services or even report that there were problems. It caused considerable social unrest; we even had the beginnings of an armed rebellion in the highlands. It took years of work by my grandfather and his closest advisors to root out the guilty and install the safeguards -- and yes, penalties -- that we have today. He succeeded -- it's one of the reasons the common people now regard the Crown as their ally against government excess and wrongdoing -- but it has required constant vigilance to justify their trust."

He slapped the table. "This has been the largest, most egregious case of corruption and bribery in the last half-century. A Senior Minister and his staff were accepting bribes, embezzling money, steering business opportunities to their cronies, and endangering public safety by concealing the violations of safety standards caused by their crime. As horrific as it was, in some measure having the bridge collapse now was a blessing; if it had done so after it was opened to normal traffic the death toll could easily have been in the hundreds."

He sighed, and let his shoulders slump. "You said that had trouble just following the trial, so I doubt that you attempted to follow the editorials or political commentary surrounding it. It nearly precipitated a political crisis -- several other senior officials resigned and requested an investigation to confirm their innocence, and royal auditors are going through the books of every other department. And Minister Tan's enemies made certain that copies of his wife and daughter's video were everywhere -- it made them notorious, and ensured that their involvement in his crimes could not be ignored. While popular opinion favored hanging rather than imprisonment for Mr. Tan and his cronies, it also favored much longer sentences for your lady and her mother. Their pleading guilty to 'unlicensed prostitution' shielded them from that."

I winced. Before I could respond, Adam held up a hand. "Rick, I believe that you should open your package first."

The package contained just four items. Two letters, one from Lena and a smaller one from Ceci. Another memory stick. And a ring: Lena's engagement ring.

That last hurt. Despite everything, I still loved her and hoped that -- somehow, and against all likelihood -- we'd find some way to be together. Apparently, Lena didn't share that hope. I cupped it in my hand and mourned her loss.

"She needed to get special permission to return that to you." Adam's voice pulled me from my bitter thoughts.

"What?" I wasn't sure I understood.

"Everything their family owned was forfeit to the crown. Their money and all their personal possessions, however small. Miss Tan begged to be able to return your ring."

That put it in a different light. Even if she wouldn't talk, she'd cared enough to be sure I had something to remember her by. I put the ring carefully away.

Adam stood. "Rick, we can talk in the morning. I suggest you read the letters first and watch the video -- if you choose to -- in private. You may take the laptop to your room to do so." He led me upstairs, to the same room I'd shared with Lena the year before. He put the half-empty whisky bottle and glass on the bedside table, gave me a sympathetic look, and thumped my shoulder before leaving.

Chapter 6

I dropped the laptop and memory stick on the desk to deal with later and opened the first letter. It was several pages long, handwritten in Lena's beautiful script, but the paper was blotched with small marks: tear stains. I needed to wipe my own eyes before starting to read.

My dear Rick -

I must apologize again, for refusing to read or answer any of the messages you sent me.

I was too weak; I thought I knew how you would feel when I told you what I'd done, but I couldn't bear to have it confirmed. Even though I also knew I'd earned every bit of your revulsion and anger. It hurt to know how much what I'd done would hurt you as well.

Now that I've read all of what you sent, it hurts even more. I don't deserve your love. No matter what my self-justifications for what I did, I'm not the woman that you thought I was, the woman I thought I was. It hurts to admit all that I have done.

But no matter the way I betrayed your love, I still owe you an explanation of my actions. And I couldn't bear to see your ring -- the symbol of the love you once shared with me -- silently disappear with every other piece of my past life. Since it was in truth yours, not mine, I begged them to include it with this letter. At least now I can pretend to myself that you will keep it, and occasionally think of me with a tiny bit of the love that you once felt.

How I wish I'd followed my heart, and returned to you instead when I first discovered the extent of my father's wrongdoing! But I couldn't bear the thought of my father -- and, quite possibly, my mother -- in prison if I didn't act. I thought, foolishly, that if I worked to hide the evidence of his most recent crimes, they would be safe, and I would be free to leave. Until the Harbor Bridge collapse, I even hoped to surprise you when you visited -- I would resign, and accompany you on the flight home.

I needed to wipe my eyes here. It had been so close!

Instead, I found myself trapped, struggling to deal with -- to hide! - evidence going back for most of his career. I had been proud of my father, and it hurt to learn the truth, but I still loved him. Together, my mother and I worked to find and conceal any proof of what he had done. Please don't think I was innocent; whatever our motives, my mother and I committed every crime we admitted to in our guilty plea.

Rick, I know you well enough to be sure that you could forgive me for that. If I'd been charged for that alone and I was able to work out a short sentence as a clerk or in a labor gang I'm certain that you would still be waiting for me.

As long as I didn't make the choice so many women do and escape the physical sweat and toil of the labor gang by picking the far more pleasant, if less respectable, work of the brothel. I remember your feeling of shock when I told you how many women I know here -- including many of my high school classmates from the upper tiers of society -- regard that as a reasonable choice in those circumstances. The greater shock when I admitted that my mother and I shared their view, and might well make that same decision. And your feeling of doubt that a woman who willingly made that choice could ever put it sufficiently in her past to make a good wife.

But I did make that choice. No matter our motives, my mother and I chose to make ourselves into whores in an attempt to hide my father's guilt. We chose to make our blackmailer happy, to do anything and everything he asked us enthusiastically. We even, quite coldly, decided to do our utmost to enjoy it ourselves if we could since that would make our act more convincing. Mom has always insisted that a person should do their best at anything they try; since he wanted us to be whores, we tried to become the best, most eager ones we could. To pretend to enjoy what we did -- to actually do so, if we could. And we did.

I hadn't realized how little effort would be required. Please understand -- I disliked, hated our blackmailer and his friends. But you know how responsive I can be, how eagerly my body always welcomed your touch; we even joked about how easily I could be aroused. Apparently, it is something I inherited, a trait I share with my mother. To our dismay, we both discovered that even with men we despised our bodies would still respond to the sensations of sex, respond readily enough that our pretense of enjoyment became real. By the time we were halfway through our servitude, we were eager participants in all that they asked, no matter how perverse or degrading. We'd become in truth the wanton sluts we pretended to be.

Please believe me -- if we had somehow not been charged and escaped punishment, I would have come to you and confessed everything about what I'd done. I'd have hoped that you could forgive me; if not your wife, I was willing to be yours in any way you could still accept me.

But that's not the case. We already stand convicted of every charge against us by our confessions; though the court has yet to impose our final sentences, our fate is certain. From when we first agreed to testify we knew we'd be pleading guilty to 'unlicensed prostitution' rather than 'suborning a Crown witness' -- accepting the lesser charge let us trade several additional years on our sentences for confessing to the most luridly well-known part of what we'd done.

Why not? We'd have registered anyway. Due to our prior government ties we were blocked from the low-level clerk positions we'd have otherwise qualified for; our only choices were whether to spend the next decade or two working in the labor gangs or in the brothels. Given our choices, we'd have probably chosen the brothels anyway -- as we painfully learned, underneath it all Mom and I truly sluts. Knowing that registering spared us several additional years at hard labor, the choice was easy -- if not for unearned privilege and position, we might well both already have been earning our livings on our backs.

So we registered today. As I write, our newly-tattooed thighs still ache under their bandages; though we won't start our new jobs until after the trial, Mom and I are officially registered as prostitutes. I expect we'll come to enjoy our work.

This may seem another betrayal, Rick. I don't believe you can forget or forgive this. I don't want you to forgive this -- you deserve better than what I've become. A soon-to-be convicted felon, willing slut, and -- very soon -- a working whore.

In case you're foolish enough to believe otherwise, I've asked them to include a copy of our video with your ring and this letter -- take a look, and ask yourself if a woman who did this, who enjoyed this, is the sort of woman you'd want to be your wife. To bear your children. To be anything but the plaything of any man willing to pay for her time.

To a great extent, Palau Palsu is more tolerant than you are in the US. There are many men here who knowingly married former whores; some even value them for the experience they bring to the marriage bed. People understand the reasons why a woman may have chosen to have taken this path. But even here, almost none will consider a woman still working, or remain married to a woman who chooses to enter or return to that life.

Rick, I still love you. I think I always will. But it will be years -- and many, many, men! - before we could ever be together again, nor would I be the innocent girl you loved. The best way I can show my love is to warn you not to waste any more time or care on me.

Put me in your past and try to find a good woman, someone you can love and trust in the knowledge she won't betray your devotion as I have. Build a life with her when you find her; give her the love and happiness she deserves. That you both deserve. Please don't let my memory embitter your life.

And please forgive me, if you can.

Lena

I carefully folded her letter back up and tucked it into the envelope. Perhaps she was right, and I should do my best to forget her. It would certainly spare me heartache if I could do so. Being apart had already been hard enough, despite our every effort otherwise. Years apart with no contact, knowing that every day she was with 'many, many men'? No matter how much it hurt, I should do my best to follow her advice. Why should I wait for her? She certainly wouldn't be waiting for me!

But it was still too painful to consider. Maybe she was right, and it would be easier to follow her advice if I saw what she had already done.

I reached for the memory stick, then paused; perhaps I should read Ceci's letter first.

Lena must have learned penmanship from Ceci -- her mother's handwriting was even more graceful. Her language, though, was far blunter.

Rick,

It is too late for my apology to have any meaning -- by the time you read this both Lena and I will be recovering from our caning, only a few days away from starting our new careers. No matter how bitter my regrets, our course is set, and we'll be facing a far different future than we had ever imagined.