Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
But the elders had gone, and they had already taken me from my family. My choices here in this awful basement wouldn’t get them in trouble—the Tri-System Mercantile Company didn’t work that way. To my surprise, I felt my individuality and my sense of independence—my defiant spirit—begin to make a contribution to the confused argument inside my head.
You can’t give in to him. You mustn’t.
The words came into my mouth, straight from my spirit. “Which is it? Do you want me to stand up or do you want me to take off my dress?”
Agent Delvik’s eyes narrowed, but to my horror his smile widened. His expression had become one that I realized, my heart speeding up in alarm, must represent a kind of cruel enjoyment—my defiance pleased him, rather than the reverse. He spoke in a much quieter, but also much more menacing voice.
“I was trying to help you, my dear,” he said. “Sometimes, when I’m preparing good girls, I find that their fear can make them seem disobedient, when in fact they’re merely confused. Telling a good girl to stand up can help get her moving towards the next and more difficult part of an unfamiliar and embarrassing task she must learn to perform without hesitation. Taking off your clothes, of course, represents only the very beginning of your submission to your masters, so it makes a very good starting point, especially when it comes to telling good girls from bad girls like you.”
I swallowed hard. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take my eyes off his pale face, with its sharply pointed beard and its blue eyes that seemed to look into my mind. I hugged my arms tightly around myself and tried to keep the rebellious expression on my face, the little sneer I had managed to produce when I had spoken so disrespectfully.
Only the very beginning. I knew, from a theoretical point of view, what Vionians did with their concubines. Health and hygiene education didn’t take place in school, on Kamnos, but rather in the family, and traditional Kamnian family values prescribed that boys and girls remained innocent until courtship began at age twenty. My brothers had learned about the changes brought by puberty from our father and our uncles; we girls had learned about it from our mother and our aunts.
I knew that a husband and a wife—or a Vionian master and his concubine, for this much was made clear in school, though in the vaguest possible terms—shared a bed. There, my mother had told me, they did something together that made the wife pregnant. Because girls remained indoors or very close to the house most of the time, helping with cooking and weaving and vegetable gardening, I had no comparisons to make with the lives of animals and the way calves and piglets came to be, so the question of what exactly a husband and wife did in bed remained a mystery.
I also naturally assumed that a concubine’s purpose on Vion Prime lay in getting pregnant and having Vionian children. I knew that childbirth had a great deal of risk and involved much pain for the mother, so I had, I thought, reasoned out for myself that Vionian women left the thing that happened in bed and the resulting production of children to the concubines.
Friends and siblings whispered that husbands and wives didn’t have their clothes on when they did the bed-thing. That seemed strange, but my mind had connected the fact automatically to Agent Delvik’s ordering me to take off my clothes. I had supposed, I realized as I tried to define the meaning of his terrifying words, that he wished to carry out some sort of inspection to verify my suitability for the bed-thing, whatever it might be.
The idea of being naked in front of the agent had seemed terribly embarrassing on its own. Part of my mother’s education in hygiene had, as it did for all Kamnian girls, involved instilling what she called a feminine modesty in me. That, too, had always seemed to go along with what happened between husband and wife: from puberty a girl kept her body hidden from the eyes of all others—especially men. The bed-thing clearly represented a sort of secret, just like a girl’s body in a dress.
The news the agent had just delivered, however, seemed to speak of things that went well beyond having to show the secrets of my newly blossomed body to a man I had never met before today. I had to work very hard even to keep my face from twisting into a pleading pout as the fear and embarrassment swept through me—embarrassment as much at having no idea what the man was even talking about as at being called a bad girl, or at the thought of undressing with him watching.