“Ask Rok to contact me. I told him I want a daily report.”
Lundric inclined his head.
“You will stay to serve Rok but also to report directly to me. Understand?”
Again, Lundric bowed.
“Thank you. Disconnecting.” He closed the hologram, and Lundric’s head disappeared.
Leora shifted her weight over one heel then the other.
“Are you uncomfortable, little slave?”
She lifted her green eyes with a baleful glare but modulated her voice into respectful tones. “My knees are too old to kneel this way...master.”
Studying battle arts for most of his life had given Seke an excellent appreciation for body mechanics. He pushed off the hoverseat and crouched beside his slave. “Kneel up.” He lifted her until she lifted her naked bottom away from her heels. He stabilized her with an arm around her waist and gripped one of her heels, testing how freely it swung right and left. He repeated the action with her second heel. They didn’t swivel freely.
It took all his concentration to ignore Leora’s quickened breaths, the scent of her arousal, the softness of her belly against his arm. She required his care now, not his lust. He nudged her fibula toward the outside of her calves, following the slender bone from her ankle up toward the back of her knee, then back down again until it moved freely. He did the same with the other leg then retested the swivel of her heels and found them easier to move.
With the arm at her waist, he guided her back down to sit. “Better?”
Surprise flitted over her face. “Yes, actually.” A blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you. Master.”
He nodded once. “Masters take care of their slave’s needs,” he reminded her. “When you’re in discomfort, I want to know.” He cupped her chin. “If I give you pain, it should be purposeful.”
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he thought she would fight him again, but she clamped her lips shut, chin lifted.
“You may sit on your heels, on your hands and knees, or forearms and knees. I grant you permission to change positions as necessary. You may also lie prostrate over my lap.”
“Only humiliating positions.” Her voice sounded tight, and it pained him because she was right.
“It’s part of the training, little human. You learn your place in relation to me. Once that is established, you will be granted more freedom.”
He’d learned humility as a young student of the battle arts. Had knelt at his master’s feet. Had endured physical discomfort and endless tests designed to strip him of pride. Warriors were disciplined, honorable. He had trained Lundric and even Prince Zander this way—though with more respect as befit his station. He knew how to train pupils and didn’t believe what he required of Leora to be too cruel.
But the hurt on her face slayed him. Literally slashed across his chest like the wound from a sword blade.
He supposed the worst of it for her was the shift in their relationship. He’d shown her only respect in the past. Now he debased her. But she would learn, like Prince Zander had, the context of their different roles. In the battle arts studio, Seke was master to Zander. Outside of it, Zander ruled him, as he ruled all the Zandians and would rule their planet, when he retook it. Yet training Zander had been important. Their young ruler had to be an able and capable warrior if he was to lead their species to recover their rightful place in the galaxy.
Once Leora had learned submission, once Zander was satisfied with her training, she would be free to roam the palatial pod at will, and he would treat her with the deference her gender and beauty called forth.
His cuff lit up with another incoming hologram, and he launched it. Rok’s head sprang into the air.
“Master Seke.” Rok inclined his head slightly. Not raised with other Zandians, he lacked the reverence and understanding of the workings of their culture, but he’d proven himself extremely battle-ready and capable of great leadership. Lamira’s psychic vision had predicted he would lead the army necessary to take back Zandia. “The supplies and ships have arrived. We have sorted the beings into groups related to skill and interest. There are at least a dozen who require medical care. Can you lend a doctor?”
Lily appeared behind Rok, as breathtakingly beautiful as her mother and sister. “There are fifteen in all. We require antibiotics and bandages at the very least,” she said.
Leora, hearing her daughter’s voice, lurched up from her knees to see, but he pressed her back down, modulating his strength so he didn’t injure her, but using enough force that she couldn’t resist.
“I wish to see my—” she spluttered, clawing at the hand on her shoulder, her nails sinking into his flesh. She twisted and bit him, her teeth tearing through his skin and drawing blood.
He didn’t release his iron grip
on her shoulder. “I will have them sent immediately.” He flicked the hologram off before more of Leora’s struggles could be seen and heard on the other end. Without even looking at his wound or wiping the blood off, he swiveled in his chair and lifted her across his knees.
“Stop it, you overbearing oaf!” She kicked and struggled, her anger unchecked.
He didn’t mind her rebellion. After a life of servitude, she knew better than to resist a master. The fact she did, showed she trusted him enough to reveal her emotions. He clicked her wrist cuffs together behind her back. He didn’t spank her. The moment seemed to beg for something different. First, he needed her to understand. In the future, she would learn to trust his judgment, not requiring explanations.