“Do you understand?”
She nodded, her hiccoughing breaths making it impossible to answer.
“Now. We are going to go to the dining hall. Jollin has had the kitchen prepare sustenance. If you do not eat, nutrition will be injected into your bottom. GilAman has told me I’ve only to call and he will be here for the procedure.”
He tipped Phaedra off his lap, feeling a little sorry for her as she stood there sniffling, her small hands cupping her impossibly sore bottom cheeks. He longed to tell her that things would get better, but resisted the urge. Only she could make it better through her obedience. That was the first lesson. Everything she did had consequences with him, her master.
“Would you like to speak?”
Now she raised her large, tear-filled eyes to his. “What does it matter?” she asked miserably. “I have no control over anything.”
“No, you don’t.”
“How does it feel?” Phaedra asked, and he was surprised to hear the barb, the taunt, in her tone. “How does it feel to steal and completely subjugate someone smaller and more helpless than yourself? Does it feel good? Do you feel proud?”
He considered not answering, but it was a pertinent question, one he’d already asked himself.
“It feels necessary,” he said quietly. “We all have our place in the order of things.”
Dinner was served in the dining hall, and the Earth food that looked so curious to him obviously sparked the appetite Phaedra had denied having. He did not tell her that the food itself was not composed of the ingredients from Earth, but was their own specially balanced pet diet formulated from Traoian ingredients and transformed to look like Earth food. Inside were supplements designed to prevent pregnancy, to keep her weight perfectly balanced no matter how much she ate, to keep her hair shiny, to nourish her entirely.
“I’m tired,” she said after she’d eaten. She said nothing more, and Bron noted that she didn’t meet his eyes. It was not from defiance, though; he could tell she meant what she said.
“I’ll take you to your chamber.”
He’d had the room prepared especially for her, and when they entered, the general took note of Phaedra’s reaction. She obviously was not expecting the surroundings to reflect the finest Earth furnishings. He’d been advised that to assimilate his new pet into her lifestyle, all vestiges of her home planet should become a distant memory. But this is where he departed from the hard line. This was a female, and he knew females—regardless of species—were comforted by the familiar. The chamber he’d chosen for her was in the top tower of his hall overlooking a vast stretch of glittering sand and a mountain range beyond. The window above could be opened to allow in moonlight, or closed and lit with the soft glow of wall sconces in whatever color she chose. The bed was heavy and ornate, draped in fine fabrics. There was a matching bureau with a model of the solar system in a transparent case on top. There were shelves with models of Earth creatures for her to hold. There were books in her language on Trao X39, on its history and flora and fauna should she want to learn. He did not believe in keeping his pet ignorant. If she was intelligent—and he believed Phaedra was—he wanted her to learn all that she could.
A wall panel hid a closet that would soon hold clothing designed just for her by Matron Sharad. A bath chamber held a smaller pool similar to the one in the matron’s chambers, and Bron had already arranged for two Areptoid attendants to dress and groom his pet each morning.
“Will this suffice?” he asked. He’d been watching as she walked around the room, her reticence replaced with the curiosity he found so appealing. She’d stopped at the bookshelf, and had taken down a model of an Earth horse before replacing it with a sad look and reaching for a book on Traoian creatures.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s fine.” She paused. “Thank you.”
He
She nodded, her hiccoughing breaths making it impossible to answer.
“Now. We are going to go to the dining hall. Jollin has had the kitchen prepare sustenance. If you do not eat, nutrition will be injected into your bottom. GilAman has told me I’ve only to call and he will be here for the procedure.”
He tipped Phaedra off his lap, feeling a little sorry for her as she stood there sniffling, her small hands cupping her impossibly sore bottom cheeks. He longed to tell her that things would get better, but resisted the urge. Only she could make it better through her obedience. That was the first lesson. Everything she did had consequences with him, her master.
“Would you like to speak?”
Now she raised her large, tear-filled eyes to his. “What does it matter?” she asked miserably. “I have no control over anything.”
“No, you don’t.”
“How does it feel?” Phaedra asked, and he was surprised to hear the barb, the taunt, in her tone. “How does it feel to steal and completely subjugate someone smaller and more helpless than yourself? Does it feel good? Do you feel proud?”
He considered not answering, but it was a pertinent question, one he’d already asked himself.
“It feels necessary,” he said quietly. “We all have our place in the order of things.”
Dinner was served in the dining hall, and the Earth food that looked so curious to him obviously sparked the appetite Phaedra had denied having. He did not tell her that the food itself was not composed of the ingredients from Earth, but was their own specially balanced pet diet formulated from Traoian ingredients and transformed to look like Earth food. Inside were supplements designed to prevent pregnancy, to keep her weight perfectly balanced no matter how much she ate, to keep her hair shiny, to nourish her entirely.
“I’m tired,” she said after she’d eaten. She said nothing more, and Bron noted that she didn’t meet his eyes. It was not from defiance, though; he could tell she meant what she said.
“I’ll take you to your chamber.”
He’d had the room prepared especially for her, and when they entered, the general took note of Phaedra’s reaction. She obviously was not expecting the surroundings to reflect the finest Earth furnishings. He’d been advised that to assimilate his new pet into her lifestyle, all vestiges of her home planet should become a distant memory. But this is where he departed from the hard line. This was a female, and he knew females—regardless of species—were comforted by the familiar. The chamber he’d chosen for her was in the top tower of his hall overlooking a vast stretch of glittering sand and a mountain range beyond. The window above could be opened to allow in moonlight, or closed and lit with the soft glow of wall sconces in whatever color she chose. The bed was heavy and ornate, draped in fine fabrics. There was a matching bureau with a model of the solar system in a transparent case on top. There were shelves with models of Earth creatures for her to hold. There were books in her language on Trao X39, on its history and flora and fauna should she want to learn. He did not believe in keeping his pet ignorant. If she was intelligent—and he believed Phaedra was—he wanted her to learn all that she could.
A wall panel hid a closet that would soon hold clothing designed just for her by Matron Sharad. A bath chamber held a smaller pool similar to the one in the matron’s chambers, and Bron had already arranged for two Areptoid attendants to dress and groom his pet each morning.
“Will this suffice?” he asked. He’d been watching as she walked around the room, her reticence replaced with the curiosity he found so appealing. She’d stopped at the bookshelf, and had taken down a model of an Earth horse before replacing it with a sad look and reaching for a book on Traoian creatures.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s fine.” She paused. “Thank you.”
He
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