Sci Spanks (18 page)

“If you aren’t offering Talia a suitor, why are you here?”

That was Mother, blunt as always. Father preferred to work with his hands, but Mother’s sharp tongue rang through the house day and night. “Charles,” she would say. “The eavestrough is crooked.” No matter how tired or hungry, my father would fix the eavestrough before Mother gave him dinner. Those nights, I darned socks with a growling stomach until Father took his first bite. Once we wore out our only pair of socks, I unraveled the yarn, tied frayed ends, and knitted once more.

The stranger laid a cloth sack onto the table. The contents clinked as Father loosened the drawstring.

“Gold?” Father shouted, scraping his chair back. “Sell my daughter to a slaver? Get out of here before I break your scrawny neck!”

“How much?” Mother asked, and with those words she sealed my fate.

If I had been a boy, Mother would have counted the coins given to marry her son. Instead, she sold me for enough gold to keep her in new silk stockings every day for the rest of her life. She no longer needed a knitter of thrice-used yarn.

“You’re happy with me,” Vina repeats, and her eyebrows arch in warning. I can repeat her litany of lectures before they come from her mouth. “Instead of letting you die in uneducated squalor, I brought you to my palace where you want for nothing. I gave you food, clothes, and books. God meant for you to be mine.” When I fail to produce the expected apology and affirmation of her twisted version of events, she slides her chair backward. “Couldn’t we have one day without this discussion?”

“You bought me,” I whisper, refusing to give in. “How can you expect me to be happy?”

She pinches the fold of skin above my left elbow.

I would run, if I had any place to hide. I would fight, if I had any weapons to wield. I would argue, if I had any listeners to hear. Instead, I edge away from her grip. Whether she dismisses her servants or allows them to watch, the outcome is always the same. I will not give gratitude for lies. “No,” I say, because refusal provokes consequences only when she listens. I lower my head, studying the tasseled fringe of the tablecloth embroidered in gold thread.

“My heart grieves at your obstinance.” Instead of grief, her voice quivers with restrained anger.

“My mother sold me,” I repeat, and Vina frowns.

“Do you want me to treat you as a possession?”

“It would be more honest,” I blurt, and she stops her arm midway from reaching toward me. “How much did you pay for me?” She still refuses to tell me, over a year after the transaction that turned me into a member of her household. Or chattel, as I say.

She crooks her finger and points to the floor. Uncomprehending, I bend to inspect the parquet for a dropped fork. “Kneel,” she commands, and the blood courses through my veins. I double my fists, but she takes no pity. “You refuse to take your place at my side, so you may kneel at my feet. Or shall I strip you of your clothes and beat you into submission?”

She has proclaimed my happiness for the past year, and each assurance deepened my resentment. I did say this would be more honest, didn’t I? The powder blue velvet of my dress crushes beneath my knees as I fall to the ground. I should refuse her degrading order, but her manicured red nails work their way through my hair.

“Why…”

“Good girl,” she says, and against all reason I am pleased. I rest my forehead against her thigh, and a soft exclamation causes me to tilt my head backward at her. “If you…but you don’t,” she corrects herself. “Will you behave, or must I send you to your room?”

I will end up in exile sooner or later, awaiting her nightly visit. Today, however, I am more willing to participate in her charade. “My queen,” I say, and she smiles at my irony.

“I will be your queen,” she promises. “But not until you are ready.”

Discomfited, I rock back on my heels. My buyer, redeemer, patron, and queen? For the past year, I have wished for my old life back. I want to scrounge for coveted potato peelings instead of turning down saffron salmon served on gem-studded silver trays. I wish I could cry as the worn-out yarn refuses to stretch into a proper heel.

Taking pity on me, she gives the command I have longed for all day. “You may go to your room.”

I should apologize for what she deems bad behavior, but I leap to my feet to scurry away from the hostile, prying eyes of her many servants. They can’t understand what a great lady like Vina would want with poor trash like me. “Thank you,” I murmur, with sincerity at last. I escape through the long, narrow hallways to face my dressing-girl’s displeasure. She unfastens and loosens every inch of my clothing, replacing the costly fabrics with a simple cotton nightgown. Disapproval radiates from every taut muscle in her body, but I ignore her. In my new life, only Vina’s displeasure counts.

“Talia,” she scolds when she arrives after dinner. “After thirteen months, isn’t it time for you to settle in?” She raises the hem of my nightgown and traces the pattern of welts.

Instead of answering, “Yes, my lady,” I hurl my bitterness at her. “How can I?”

And in turn, she asks instead of answering. “Why can’t you?” Rage, shame, and hopelessness overwhelm me, and I turn away. She lifts my chin and says with the firmness of nobility who never have been disobeyed, “Answer, Talia.”

“If I had been a boy,” I mutter, “none of this would have happened.” She releases her hold and allows me to continue. “A boy would have carried on the family name. A girl meant another mouth to feed.”

“You want me to treat you badly, in accordance with how you feel about yourself?”

I kneel, but she raises me up. “No, my lady,” I answer when she stares for too long. “Just beat me and get it over with.”

Instead of the lash of the belt that has sent me to bed in tears for a year and a little more, her lips brush against my forehead. I gasp, trembling, and open my mouth. She nuzzles my cheek with her own. “Such a child,” she murmurs.

“I’ll be twenty-one in the spring,” I argue, and she covers my mouth with her own.

“Such a child,” she repeats. “Rejecting the one who wants you, all because a few pieces of gold exchanged hands. Have you forgotten the dowry your father would have paid to your husband’s family?”

I close my eyes, breathing in the lavender scent of her laundress’ washing oil. “Shh,” I beg, clasping my hands around her neck. “What we’re doing is wrong.” But I do not stop. I should hate her, but today my will is weak.

“Did I break your bones?”

“No,” I smile.

“Did I break your heart?”

Yes, I want to say, but the potato-peeling girl fled ages ago. I could have lied to protect myself, but months of regular meals and fine clothes have turned me soft. “No,” I admit. “But my parents only took money for me because I was a worthless girl. If I’d been born a boy…”

“If you had been born a boy?” She holds me tightly, caressing my sore bottom. “I would never have allowed you here.”

She thinks she means her palace, but I know she means her heart.

***

Later, I ask how she found me. She takes out a crescent-shaped piece of silver on a knotted leather cord. “Feel this,” she says, and I lay my index finger on the blank metal. To my surprise, the disk reverberates in time with my own heartbeat. When I hold my breath, trying to force my heart to slow down, the pulsing slows as well. Uneasy at the witchcraft, I back away. She hangs the amulet around her neck, the leather contrasting with her gold chain.

“This called me to you,” she explains, and I don’t pretend to understand. Father always did say that a woman who never married must be a witch. Years later, she will tell me about a man named Nicodemus. For now, however, she settles for a simpler explanation. “As long as I wear it, your heart is with me.”

What happens when you take it off?
But tonight is the first time I have ever felt peace in her palace, and I hold my tongue.

“Are you happy here?” This time, she asks as if she wants to know.

“No,” I say, smiling. “Not until you teach me all you know.”

On that day, she makes me her apprentice. Me, Talia, who was born a girl.

Anastasia Vitsky is a naughty girl with a wicked sense of humor. She prefers her stories sweet with a dash of kink. She writes F/F spanking fiction because she loves a good female disciplinarian. Strong women are sexy! She strives to write stories that speak to our everyday lives versus the fantasies no one can hope to achieve.

When she’s not writing about Kat and Natalie and their penchant for wooden spoons, she dispenses sex toy advice and banters about touching flowers. She blogs at
http://governingana.wordpress.com/
and can be found on Twitter (@AnastasiaVitsky), Facebook, Goodreads, and Amazon. She is the author of
The Vengeance of Mrs. Claus, Daughter of Discipline, Desire in Any Language, Mira’s Miracle, Editorial Board, The Way Home (Kat and Natalie, Volume One), Lighting the Way (Kat and Natalie, Volume Two), Becoming Clissine (Bastia, Book One),
and
Simple Gifts.

Behind the scenes: A note from Sci Spanks Official Art Designer, Anthony Walsh

When I was approached by Anastasia Vitsky about creating a special art piece for the Sci Spanks event, I was beyond excited and agreed to do so. The excitement was based on the fact that I find myself a little bit of a science nerd and I was also very curious to see how the participants would blend spanking and erotic stories with the otherworldly science fiction element. That was my aim as I started to sketch out the artwork. I thought to myself “If I were to write a story for the event, what kind of picture would I want to paint mentally with the words?” and “How would I paint a picture based on those words?” I gave myself about a half hour to daydream and outline before I was satisfied with my basic story. I have had some fascination with cyborgs and advanced DNA in the past and figured I should base it off of that. My idea being that sometime in the future people would have access to under-skin robotics as well as supercharged DNA. Not being completely robotic, they would still have all their sexual emotions intact and possibly even enhanced. So I wanted to build a sexy cyborg that could react upon the erotic elements of spanking and add to the exhilaration and pleasure by adjusting to its partner's needs.

I did about four very rough thumbnail sketches before I started on the actual piece. I decided that the best way to build the artwork would be digitally. First I created the background by blending DNA strands with wire framing to pieces of nebulae and colored it a nice scientific green. Next it was time to work on my sexy cyborg. I was originally going to show her full body with face included but after a short time I thought that it would add more mystique to not show her face and went with just the middle of her body. I worked on her arm first, I was going to add a control panel to her arm (like the video game super glove of the 80's) to suggest that she would be able to manually adjust herself with it. Then I thought, “Hey, this is the future and anything is possible!” so I made an automatic compartment to conceal the controls beneath. I also wanted to have her wrist be mechanical. I thought that under her skin would be a set of pivoting mechanical devices to add to the physical phenomenon of the spanking she was about to administer. I then started to think about how her robotics would be powered, since we needed to add a changeable battery compartment. I figured that the perfect place to house the radioactive battery would be within her lower abdomen (with an ominous warning symbol of course). While working on the arm and stomach it dawned on me that she could also be the one to receive the spankings. So here we go... An interchangeable, DNA enhanced, super sensitive, cybernetic, touch reactive sit spot that would attach between her battery compartment and middle of her thigh was born. Luckily for me it just meant drawing a few lines.

After getting the basics in place for the cyborg it was now time to add the paddle. The first idea was to make the paddle mechanical but yet again I changed my mind and wanted to make it wood with mechanical elements. Perhaps on the end of the instrument there could be sensors and electrodes that administered small pleasureful shocks as it made contact with the bottom. I wanted to have the viewers make up their own minds as to what caused the light and sparks from the bottom. Judging by the viewers’ comments during Sci Spanks, I think I achieved just that.

Now it was time to finish up the piece by adding lighting and an overall color. During this time I thought that it would be unique if her skin was a little bit android or metallic. Perchance there was synthetic skin or space age textured paint on top of a metal shell. To accomplish this it was simply a matter of using the light and shadow to my advantage. Brightening up the light parts while making the darker parts more saturated. I then added a final layer of adjustments that brought the entire image together.

The artwork was unveiled on June 25
^th
of 2014, The first day of the Sci Spanks event! It was received very well and I can tell that most of the viewers probably had a version of the same story that I primitively based the artwork on. I had such a great time at the event that I was sad to see it end. I was able to meet a great deal of wonderful authors and readers alike. The communality that Sci Spanks is supported by was the most welcoming and helpful people I have ever had the pleasure to get into contact with. The entire four-day event was something to behold as a monument to both Sci Fi and Spanking story enthusiasts. As a thank you to the organizers, readers and authors I offer the original printable artwork as a free download by visiting my website. Please enjoy this wonderful anthology and see you at the next Sci Spanks event!

Live long and keep up the spankings,

Anthony Walsh (The Cover Artisan)

www.thecoverartisan.com