Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Yes, Mistress.” The guard bowed low and went back to his place in line.
“Next!” Shin’dara called and the next guard in line came forward to bow before the throne and be branded.
Lucy watched the ceremony in horrified fascination. Not all the guards were able to hold still during the incredibly painful operation but those who flinched or tried to get away from the iron were sorry afterwards. If one of the men tried to run, their new, cruel Mistress would have two others hold him down and brand him two or three or more times—often on their cheeks or forehead. Several she even branded their cock or balls, which caused one guard to faint.
“Throw him over the side of the chasm,” she ordered the two guards who had been holding him down so she could brand him. “I won’t have such a weak, revolting worm in my service!”
The guard who had fainted from having his balls branded was dragged out of the courtroom, though whether he was actually thrown into the chasm, Lucy never found out. She hoped not—she could understand how someone could lose consciousness from such terrible pain and she felt sorry for the poor guard.
However, she didn’t allow these emotions to show on her face. She sat through the entire ceremony with a blank expression as though she didn’t care what was happening, even though she was longing to jump up and stop it.
But could she stop it? Lucy didn’t think so. Mistress Shin’dara was in charge here and she was a dangerous Twainer. Objecting to her cruelty wouldn’t do any good and would lose them any chance of getting the dimriel. It might also get herself and T’zaren killed. So she held her tongue, even though she was dying to jump up and object to the horrible things Mistress Shin’dara was doing.
It seemed to take forever but at last every single guard had been branded and the long, brutal ceremony was over. Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. Maybe now the Twainer would have had her fill of cruelty and would be in a good enough mood to make a deal for the dimriel. Then she and T’zaren could get the hell out of this horrible place!
But what Mistress Shin’dara said next, put an end to all her hopes.
“Well, wasn’t that fun?” the Twainer said, turning to her with a cruel smile twitching on her lips. “And now, it’s your turn.”
FORTY
LUCY
“What?” Lucy stared at her in horror.
“I said, it’s your turn. Here.” Shin’dara picked a red-hot branding iron out of the brass barrel and tried to hand it to Lucy.
Lucy refused to take it.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, trying to keep her voice polite but firm. “Surely you aren’t insinuating that I should brand my manservant with your initial?”
“What I’m insinuating is that the male you have with you isn’t your manservant at all and you are not a true Dom’mesque!” Mistress Shin’dara snapped, glaring angrily at Lucy.
Uh-oh… The shit was hitting the fan now, but Lucy still strove to keep her composure.
“I beg your pardon, Mistress Shin’dara,” she said coolly. “But just because I don’t abuse my manservant doesn’t mean I’m not a true Dom’mesque. After all, your Other Half, Lady Twa’linda, is a Dom’mesque and she never mistreated her guards or staff.”
But mentioning the Twainer’s Light Face seemed to be the exact wrong thing to do.
“How dare you say her name?” Mistress Shin’dara snarled. “She was no true Dom’mesque! Why, she allowed every one of her male staff and guards to penetrate her! Disgusting!”
“Well, I agree that it was a very, er, strange way to manage her people,” Lucy said, trying to calm the other woman down. “I mean, I certainly wouldn’t do it myself—”
“Because a true Dom’mesque never allows a male to penetrate her!” Mistress Shin’dara snapped. “Just as a true Dom’mesque marks her property. If you really are what you say you are, you’ll prove yourself by marking your manservant as your own!”
“I’m not going to brand T’zaren just to please you!” Lucy said, glaring at the other woman.
“Well, you must mark him in some way or I refuse to deal with you!” Mistress Shin’dara insisted. “Guards, get ready to throw this fake Dom’mesque out of my stronghold!”
“No, wait!” Lucy protested as several of the assembled guards took a step towards her. “There’s, uh, no need to be hasty!” She didn’t want to burn T’zaren and inflict a permanent brand on him, but she didn’t want to lose the dimriel either. What in the hell was she supposed to do? It was an impossible choice!
“Bite me.”
“Excuse me?” Both Lucy and Mistress Shin’dara stared at the big Monstrum who had risen to his full height and was looming over them both.
“I said, you must bite me, Dom’mesque,” he repeated, looking down at Lucy. “The bite of a Stri’vor male’s true S’rentha will mark his skin permanently.” He shrugged his broad, bare shoulders. “So bite me and mark me as your own.”