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  Every woman—and no small amount of the young men—jumped every time they heard that horrifying crack of hard, unrelenting wood against soft, cringing flesh, but no one said anything, lest they be next.

  The girl wasn’t saying anything either except for moans and cries and the occasional scream.

  Fleur didn’t know how many swats the poor girl received; she was too distraught to count them. It wasn’t the fact that the girl was naked in front of those four men, or that two of them were holding her down and one of them was cracking that paddle against her ass so loud it reverberated through the trees, along with her wails of distress that upset her. No, it couldn’t have been that easy.

  It was the alarming fact that Fleur wished that they’d singled her out instead of that nameless young woman. While the spanking continued, her fertile mind went to work what it must be like to be her, to be exposed, bent over, and punished like that, almost but not quite in front of all of them, too.

  Although she jumped, she also shuddered strongly at every stroke, her nipples peaking and rubbing painfully against the crude material of her shift, her breath becoming ragged—and it wasn’t because she was afraid.

  A big warm hand slid into hers, thick fingers forcing hers to lace with his.

  “This is the second time today I’ve given you my hand.”

  It was the same guy who helped her into the wagon when no one else would.

  “Don’t be scared. They’re just making an example of her so that the rest of us will be easier to handle.”

  Fleur let the breath she had been forcing herself to hold—once she realized she’d been panting—escape loudly. She’d worried that he’d recognize the alarming fact that she’d just learned about herself—that she wasn’t afraid of what was happening. She was fiercely aroused by it.

  Not wanting to say anything that might draw attention to either of them, she simply squeezed his hand in thanks for his efforts and deliberately let go.

  Then she got her answer, sort of. She felt him take a step forward, so that his front was to her back. He bent down just the tiniest bit, so that it wouldn’t be noticeable if anyone cast a glance their way and whispered, “I’m picturing you in the position she must be in. And I’m the one holding the paddle. I’d make you scream twice as loud as she is, then I’d put my mouth against your privates and make you faint from the combination of pure pleasure and pure pain.”

  Then he stepped back, leaving her alone and bereft with her jumbled thoughts, and, seconds later, she had to wonder whether she’d imagined the entire conversation.

  Chapter II

  They were stopped one more time, just before the gates. Fleur could hear the watchmen marching—it must’ve been a shift change—along the wall, and she could hear snippets of what the councilmen and someone who identified himself as the captain of the guards were talking about, but it didn’t mean much to her so she stopped listening.

  “Quiet, you louts. You’re to be addressed by your betters—and that’s pretty much everyone, you’ll come to find out.” The guard gave a nasty chuckle at his own little joke.

  “I know you must be apprehensive, unsure and uncertain about what fate will befall you behind these walls,” the man began in a deep voice, “And the only thing I can assure you is that you’ll be challenged in all manner of ways, and that how you respond will either be a credit or a blemish on your kingdom, your family and the way you were raised, even though once you pass through, you become neither princess nor servant. Those of you who are lowborn will have a chance to see a way of life you never dreamed existed; I think you have it easier than those who were born to privilege, because those of you who have never had to do a days’ work in your life or have never had to obey anyone much—even your parents—will have to learn to do so to the hard way. Keep your minds open and your mouths shut, and remember that everything you’re asked to do is in the name of—and for the good of—your land and your family. Make them, and us, proud in everything you do.”

  Immediately after he finished, Fleur could hear a commotion getting closer and closer to her. She could hear what she thought was the tearing of fabric, and it was only female voices that rose in anguish as some of the girls tried to resist what was happening and received the same sentence as the girl who had talked too much. The air was filled with the sound of flesh being systematically blistered, and the distressed cries of those whose flesh was being mortified.

  After hearing what happened to them for their troubles, she quickly made up her mind that—despite the strong new feelings the idea of letting that happen to herself conjured—she wasn’t going to allow it to happen to her.

  She didn’t know where they were until it actually happened to her, but there was a man in front and a man behind each tribute. The man in front was doing something that the women, in particular, didn’t like, and some of them tried, unsuccessfully, to back away from him, but they just ran into the man behind them, who was the size and weight of a brick wall. He reached down to pull up the back of the shift the protesting girls were wearing, exposing their naked behinds to his huge palm, which he set about cracking against that fair white rounded flesh in retribution for them thinking that they could avoid what was being done to them.

  The closest girl who was being subjected to this treatment was someone Fleur knew, Caria Finelli. She recognized the girl’s high pitched voice—and, if she angled her head back just right, she could see that the big man’s other hand was appallingly low on Caria’s tummy, his fingers nearly spanning her hips as he held her in place while he spanked her, smack after wickedly hard smack, until she was a mass of tears and completely complacent when the man in front of her finished what he’d started. The two of them left her there, sobbing, what had to be an excruciatingly throbbing behind glowing a frightful red in comparison to the rest of her peaches and cream skin, to go on to the next one of them.

  Seconds after she’d seen what had happened to Caria, it happened to her. Someone, who smelled as if he slept with a herd of goats, grasped the neckline of her shapeless dress and rent it from top to bottom in one practiced move, stripping it off her and throwing it to the side while the man behind her removed her blindfold.

  She had wondered why the seam went in the front. Now she knew, and she wished she didn’t.

  Fleur had a feeling that that was how this time was going to go. She had already learned things about herself that she wished she hadn’t, and she had a feeling there was much more like that to come.

  They were then segregated by sex, and finally led into the town.

  Fleur had never been to L’Ondre before. She’d heard tales about how beautiful it was all her life and was almost excited to get her first glimpse of it, but there was too much misery around her, reminding her that she was hardly entering the city in style in one of her father’s carriages, but instead was being force marched into it completely naked, as a lowest of the low.

  Slavery had long since been outlawed in their six kingdoms. There was no need for it once the young, having reached chronological adulthood and in the prime of their lives, were pressed into service, required to give two years of their lives—along with their will and their pride—to any inhabitant in good standing who could afford their price, the proceeds of which filled the empress’s coffers and overflowed into the other five kingdoms.

  They were marched up on a platform in the middle of a large square, where the complicated process of culling began.

  The long line of bare, red faced and cheeked women faced the line of men from a distance of about eight feet. Some of the men, looked equally as embarrassed to be on such display in front of their peers as well as the large crowd that had gathered for the monthly auction.

  The men who were already sexually aroused at the situation were removed from the line first; they would either be claimed by the empress for her own uses or by the female—or male—courtiers that surrounded their ruler. The women whose nipples were peaked were taken away next, and then everyone wa
s given the command to take a step forward. More culling of anyone who showed a sexual response to the proximity of the opposite sex.

  Another step forward, and they were nearly touching. The man in front of Fleur was the same one who had been so chivalrous and had offered his assistance to her in getting into the wagon. Fleur did everything she could to avoid looking at him, while he stared straight at her with that unflinching, knowing gaze, an almost half smile on his face.

  He was taken away and the ranks closed behind him.

  After that last round, the lines were folded in the middle, so that Fleur found herself pressed against a girl of her own age who was taller and a little rounder than she was, and she assumed they were doing the same thing with the men. More people were taken, until there were only a handful of them left, three men and two women, one of whom was Fleur.

  Three men beset each one of them; two held them fast on either side, forcing them to spread their legs so wide they couldn’t have maintained their balance without assistance. The third rudely cupped their genitals, slipping a finger between her lips to that spot she bled out of once a month.

  Startled, Fleur instinctively began to struggle against the affront, forgetting everything she’d been told about how to behave in favor of not being handled so familiarly by a stranger, not that that stopped him in the least. The tip of his big finger probed her, as far as it could, for much longer, she judged, than it had the others, until he stepped back, his finger dry as a bone, and nodded to the other two men.

  She was instantly made to regret her foolish actions.

  The men on either side of her maintained their hold and began to spank her bare behind unrelentingly. The first swat had Fleur drawing in a breath so deep she nearly passed out from it, but then the other swats came crashing down after it in such mind blowing succession that she could do nothing with the breath but blow it out immediately on a heartfelt groan.

  Within a few precious minutes, they had delivered at least thirty swats between them, leaving Fleur dazed and desperate to stop the stinging ache in her bottom, but she could barely move, much less actually put an end to the punishment.

  The end came from an unexpected quarter. The man who had come to stand in front of her held up his hand and the explosions of pain halted immediately, the two men at her sides returning to their previous stance.

  The tall, imposing figure that towered over her, noted the fine sheen of sweat on her body, the way her breasts heaved with every agitated breath and the fact that her nipples were now fully erect.

  He took one mauve tipped bud between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it painfully, lifting his hand at the same time so that Fleur had no choice but to follow it up, straining on her tiptoes to try to alleviate even a little of the agony she was feeling as her nipple was cruelly wrenched. He caught her eyes and she felt his other hand gripping her possessively at the juncture of her thighs and a bold finger split her outer then inner lips with little care for finesse. It found exactly what it had been seeking, a generous pool of juices that were eagerly awaiting his touch.

  The man backed up again, holding his finger out so that everyone close to them could see how wet it was. There was a generous drop of her sliding down his upright finger as Fleur turned a shade of mortified red. She wasn’t sure how he’d done that or why she was leaking some sort of clear fluid, but she knew instinctively that it couldn’t be good.

  “Take her to Master Cromwell. He’ll know best what to do with this one.”

  As she was turned by the men who still held her, she felt him give her a tremendous swat, reigniting the fires in her behind that had only just begun to slowly receding. As she walked, her steps barely touched the ground because the strides of the two that were with her were so much larger than her own and they were so much taller. She noticed that she was the only one who was headed in this direction.

  No one else had been singled out for whatever this fate was except for her, and somehow that didn’t seem like a good thing.

  Not a good thing at all.

  The blindfold that had been removed was put back in place as soon as she was escorted down off the platform, and then she was lifted into some sort of wagon, although she could sense that it was much smaller than the one that had brought her here. Her wrists were cuffed together and then bound to the rough wooden floor, so was her head by dint of a thick leather collar looped around her neck, her ankles trapped there, too, so that she spent the entire ride with her head down and her blazing red bottom held up for all to see—and comment on, loudly.

  By the time the wagon stopped, Fleur’s cheeks—all four of them—were the same color. She was released, but only to have another man come and take her by the upper arm, hauling her unceremoniously to the ground and setting off at a brisk pace for long moments until she was finally brought to an abrupt stop.

  “Well, who have we here?” a deep male voice asked.

  “One of the fetchers told me her name was Fleur.”

  “And why has she been brought here?”

  Fleur couldn’t hear the explanation, although she could hear someone whispering, and she thought that was okay with her. She’d rather not relive the humiliation she’d just experienced.

  “Was she punished?”

  “She resisted the overseer when he reached to evaluate her response.”

  “Hmmm. And she was paddled for her efforts, I’m sure?”

  Paddled? Fleur thought with alarm. Surely not!

  “No, Sir. She was spanked.”

  “How many?”

  “Thirty-two was the count, Sir.” The man seemed to hesitate a moment, then said, “He also told me to mention to you that she’s intact, Sir.”

  Fleur felt fingers poking at the part of her that was the sorest, and she tried to struggle away but was quickly brought up short by the man who held her arm in a tight grip. “Stand still or the punishment you just received will feel like a lover’s caress in comparison!” he threatened.

  The man behind her knelt down, his hands still on her bottom cheeks. He squeezed then pinched them, completely ignoring her unsuccessful attempts at avoiding his touch. Then he pulled those fleshy mounds apart and pressed a finger between them, gliding surely past her bottom hole to rest where the others had so triumphantly.

  “Well, he did right in sending her to me. This one warrants … special treatment. Tell the overseer that he is due a bonus in his pay for his keen observations and attention to his duties.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  “You may go.”

  Fleur heard the door open and shut, and realized that she was now alone—naked and blindfolded—with a man who could do anything he wanted to her, and that, even if she somehow managed to escape, no one would help her. Indeed, they’d be handsomely rewarded if they brought her right back here!

  The empress had instituted a sort of sliding scale of rewards, dependent on one’s rank. If the person who returned an escaped tribute initiate was a serf or a servant, the reward was more money than they were likely to ever earn in a lifetime. However, if the person was of the nobility, they would earn a favor from the empress, which, to any king or lord was a priceless reward, as it was not easy to get the empress into a position where she owned anyone anything.

  Her wrists were expertly caught behind her in one hand, and he used that leverage to force her to bend at the waist as a foot knocked her legs further and further apart, until she had to use his hold on her wrists in order to keep from falling forward and smashing her face into the carpet.

  She felt horribly exposed, as, indeed, she was. All of her secrets were right there in front of his face for him to ogle, and he was certainly taking his time doing so.

  But his greedy, probing fingers weren’t far behind.

  He molested her very thoroughly, feeling around the entire area, pinching both her outer and inner lips and trying to press his index finger up inside her, although he was stopped by encountering the barrier he’d already been told about. So instead,
his moved his hand up further, so that his slickened fingers could flick the satisfyingly swollen clit he found there.

  Despite the evidence of her desire, he recognized that she was very innocent—he could tell by the way she sucked in an outraged breath at first when he’d touched her most sensitive button, but as his fingers worked their magic, she released a reluctant sigh, drumming the heels of her feet against him taking such liberties with her body, but she was smart enough not to try to put her legs together, which would have earned her a punishment.

  Not that she wasn’t going to get one anyway, but it would have been worse for her if she had shown defiance.

  Eventually, and within an impressively short amount of time, her agitation had given way to the excitement he knew was hiding just below the surface, and he could tell that she was struggling with herself, trying not to give into the building need to moan with the pleasure he was forcing on her.

  He took a small step back and with the same hand that just been caressing her intimately, began to swat her, taking note that the marks of the previous attempt to discipline her were already almost completely faded.

  He was much more experienced than the guards at the market, though, and he knew how to give a spanking that stayed with a recalcitrant girl for quite a while—even as the next punishment was being applied. Otherwise he would have considered that he wasn’t doing his job very well. Girls like this one were diamonds in the rough. They needed to be polished often, with serious intent, and he made sure they always were.

  He had been commissioned by his empress to do so, and he took that charge very seriously.

  Fleur was horrified to realize that the impact of his swats was such that she couldn’t keep herself from, at first, groaning with each loud smack, then, as it continued, almost screaming, as he had covered the same territory multiple times by then, and had increased the severity of each connection as the spanking continued.