Submissive (13 page)

“It's not so much the temperature as the place itself,” she said kindly. “But we all get used to it.”

Deidre wrinkled her nose. “And sometimes this atmosphere gives the impression the air reeks, but in truth, the guards keep the cells very clean.”

Gillian looked around and said curiously, “I saw cells above that courtyard. Is that not where the prisoners are kept?”

“This is the solitary hold,” explained Patsy, “where the most stubborn prisoners are kept. They are confined here either because of their incorrigible attitudes, or are in wait for the verdict of the Ur'theriem council.”

Gillian frowned. “Verdict?”

“Yes. If they have served a long while and it's found they are simply beyond rehabilitating, the Ur'theriems hold a hearing to determine their future.”

Deidre nodded darkly. “If their crimes were not violent before coming, they are sometimes allowed to be taken back to the time when they were apprehended. If they were violent, however…” Her words drifted off for a moment or two and she sighed. “Well, the Ur'theriems feel it is their responsibility to eradicate them so they cannot return to harm others. It is a serious consideration, to take the chance in altering the world's destiny by the death of a mortal. But as they oblige themselves in the moment they remove a prisoner from his earthly time, they feel duty-bound in assuming responsibility for him and all those he has affected, or may affect, during the natural course of his mortal life.”

Gillian was piqued again. “So, when prisoners are returned, it is to the precise moment from when they were taken?”

Both girls nodded and Patsy said, “Not like us. We were offered an enhancement to our lives, a blessed reward to transcend whatever aspects and situations of the future we might have affected had we remained on Earth. The prisoners were taken to be retrained for the good of all society.”

The silence that fell between them was almost too heavy to bear. Gillian was glad when Deidre confided brightly, “I used to serve here regularly, and as much as I hate this place, at least we don't have to listen to Thomas W.'s barking voice any more today!”

This made Gillian and Patsy both titter, and they followed Deidre toward the first cell door on their route. As they took turns opening the panels and stuffing the linens through, Deidre related the histories of the prisoners she knew and why they had been taken for rehabilitation. They represented a diverse assortment of backgrounds and cultures from lowlife criminals to upper-class businessmen. All men, Deidre explained, whose willful obsessions with destructive ideals had, in the end, proved beyond redemption. Gillian peeped in several of the windows while Deidre talked.

She could not wait to get out. The prisoners' anger and resentment penetrated their cell doors to permeate the air of the entire vault with a dark, weighty bitterness. Deidre was wrong; even the company of Thomas W. was better than this gloomy place.

“We can go find Sir George now,” she suggested.

Deidre made a concurring sound, and they all walked out and returned downstairs. Gillian felt the uneasiness imparted by the solitary ward slacken rapidly. She and Patsy followed Deidre as she peered into the various doors in the search of Sir George. But a deep masculine voice within one of the rooms paused Deidre's hunt.

“Well, little Disciple, I was hoping to see you again!”

Gillian flipped Patsy an inquiring look, but the girl only shrugged.

“Come here, Deidre,” said the male beyond the door.

As Deidre eyed her companions, Gillian saw there was a conflicted look on her face.

“A guard?” Patsy whispered and when Deidre nodded, Patsy pushed her lightly over the threshold. Moments later heavy footfalls padded toward the door and the guard who had summoned Deidre gave them a smitten grin.

“Stay right there. Deidre will be out soon.”

He closed the door and Gillian heard Deidre make a shrill, excited sound behind it. Patsy was smiling to herself and they both moved down the hall a ways. There they waited for some time, listening to the ever-growing sounds Deidre's guard elicited from her.

“It must be Sir Nathan,” Patsy commented. “She mentioned she thought he was rather taken with her. He has been stationed for a time in the residents' village. Obviously, he did not forget her.”

Gillian smiled. She had heard from Candice about the residents' village and was about to ask who the residents were exactly when she heard someone walking their way. She looked up and was surprised to see Clive. He had the look of one who was very confused or lost as his eyes darted here and there timidly. On seeing Gillian, though, he stopped in his tracks and beamed.

“Gillian!”

His back straightened with pride and his long legs strode toward her. He clasped her hands and covered her face with tender kisses. She was delighted by his joy and stammered for something to say when she noticed Patsy frowning and shaking her head cautiously. But Clive was talking enough for all three of them.

“Fairest angel! They said the Warden wanted me to bring something from the kitchen. He must have approved my request already! I would have thought it to take much longer!”

He turned her hands over and kissed her palms. The moist heat of his lips made her nipples harden and tingle. Yet, she hesitated to speak a word at all, lest her words betrayed her arousal again and spoil his delight.

“Ah, my precious one!”

He kissed her again, deeply this time. Gillian's limbs weakened in his tender embrace. His lips parted at last and he clasped her face between his hands.

“Come.” He began to lead her down the shadows near the staircase. She glanced once back at Patsy, saw her furrowed brow and the worried shake of her head. Gillian decided she was overreacting. Why should she not enjoy Clive's kisses and let him stoke her passions with his intoxicating, flattering attention? Deidre was evidently enjoying her pleasures.

In the dim light beneath the stairs, he lavished her throat with kisses and rubbed her aching breasts through her dress. She raised her left leg and balanced it on his hip. His fingers wandered the flesh of her thigh and explored her vulva through her panties. With a laugh, he pulled them down and helped her step out of them. Her pussy swelled wetly. Clive's left hand explored the cleft between her thighs, and he licked her moisture from his fingertips. His shaft pressed hard against his pants, a stiff fruit against her groping palm. She smiled and pressed her sex against it and moved her hips pleadingly.

She could not contain her desire any longer and whispered with all the humility she could muster, “I want you!”

He murmured something sweet as he unbuttoned his pants. The head of his cock was a scarlet orb as it thrust forward. Lifting her by the waist, he leaned her against the latticed ironwork. She wrapped her legs around him and his organ penetrated her fully. Gillian's eyes closed and she began to ride his thrusts.

“Put the girl down!”

Gillian's heart vaulted. Clive turned suddenly cold as ice. In the light beyond his shoulders, she saw not only Sir George but also two other guards.

It was one of these who spoke in the thunderous voice, “I said, put the girl down!”

Clive lowered her gently and graced her brow with a trembling kiss. Her vagina ached for him, but much more alarming for her was the terror in his eyes.

A long, muscled arm reached past Clive and took hold of her. Out of the clandestine darkness she was pulled straight under a looming shadow. The man to whom it belonged was tall and lean, with a tail of steel-gray hair that swept between his shoulder blades. His face was graced with a long, finely groomed mustache and a Vandyke beard; his eyes were the same hard steel-gray as his hair. She heard Sir George demand to know what she was doing with the prisoner, but in her fright she could not move her eyes from the tall one.

He offered a raised brow and asked, “Did this man take you by force, young lady?” His deep, soothing southern drawl addled her wits. Only after he asked her a second time could she respond.

“N-no, sir.”

Sir George rolled his eyes. “Then, this liaison is forbidden, as I have no doubt you already knew.”

Gillian's lingering passion was tormenting. She made an unhappy little sound before thinking, which brought a flood of angry ruddiness to Sir George's face.

“I told you three to come find me when you were finished distributing the sheets!” He looked at the tall man and said, “Hand her over to me to punish, Warden.”

Warden! Gillian wished she could crawl straight through the latticework to hide.

Clive spun about, his pants still unbuttoned. “No. It is my fault.”

A contemplative sneer turned up one corner of the Warden's mouth. “Yes, I know that. I'm glad to know you are learning to at least take some responsibility. She has broken the rules and shall be punished accordingly. But you incited her, Prisoner Clive, and I trust you are man enough to accept due reckoning.”

Clive slipped a rueful look at Gillian that wounded her deeply.

She hissed at the guards, “Leave him alone!”

The soft laugh this brought from the Warden provoked her hotly. She stomped her foot and flailed her arms in the effort to shake his grasp. He laughed louder and pulled her to him, so her back was pressed firmly against him. He crossed her arms down over one another and pinned her wrists firmly so she could not move them at all. She thought of drawing her heel back to kick him, but realized she did not want to hurt anyone, let alone exacerbate the trouble she and Clive were already in.

Patsy was still clinging to the wall when Deidre and her eager suitor came out into the passageway.

“What is going on?” the suitor asked.

The Warden gestured to Clive and told him and the other guard to seize his arms. “He can while away his time recollecting our rules created to protect the Disciples. Inform the sergeant of his ward that his cell is to be draped for the next three days and that the Disciples coming to work are not to be allowed near it.”

As they forced Clive out into the passageway, the Warden observed in his even, husky voice, “I have a sense you meant no harm to this girl, Prisoner. But 'tis best you remember you are no guard with privileges. Besides, after the report I received about your reluctance to discipline this submissive lady, I hardly think you are fit to act the masterful lover yet.”

Clive's face blanched and as they led him off, he could not look at Gillian at all. She hurt for him and yet as she felt the Warden's eyes smiling down at her, she knew he was right. And to her further agitation, the man provoked in her a mutual intimidation and wild lust. Clive had never been able to touch her like this.

His steady eyes swept from Gillian to Deidre and then Patsy. Even as his voice remained steady, it was evident he was perturbed with Sir George.

“You said these girls were under your charge, Sir George. But where did I meet you just before we came upon this…rendezvous?”

The faintest blush tinged the guard's face. “In the courtyard, sir.”

The Warden regarded him for several silent moments. At last he turned to Deidre's suitor and said, “You know this one?”

The guard looked down at Deidre. “Yes. I did not know these other two were left unattended. My apologies, sir.”

The Warden released Gillian's wrists. “No need. This is the first visit for this Disciple. It's apparent her chaperon here had more pressing concerns out in the courtyard.” He smiled and took Gillian by the hand. His engulfed hers completely, making her feel all the more helpless.

“Take Patsy back to the handmaidens' quarters, Sir George. Deidre, may remain. I will, however, wish to speak to you later of this incident.”

Sir George inhaled quickly and nodded. Without another word, the Warden took Gillian by the arm and escorted her toward the door leading into the courtyard.

 

The Warden's office was stationed on the second floor, beyond the marked annex door she had seen earlier. Paneled of rich cedar timber and crowded with furnishings—heavy bookcases and a desk, a leather sofa, and an oriental carpet spread over the center of the hardwood floor—it reminded Gillian of a hunting cabin. He released her to bolt the door, and she stepped nervously to the room's single window. She could see the stream rambling down past the enclosing fence. Between the fence and this part of the prison, there was a maze of hedges with stone benches and strange structures fashioned of wood. In one portion of the maze she looked down upon, there was a prisoner at work trimming a hedge while a spear-wielding guard paced the path.

“Close those shutters, young lady.”

She reacted instinctively and drew them together, but her legs were frozen stiff in place as he padded up behind her.

“Turn around,” he said and again she obeyed. He said nothing for several moments, and she bowed her head and tried not to fidget, but it was difficult.

At last he said, “Would you have me assume that Madam neglected to tell you it is forbidden for Disciples to speak freely with prisoners?”

His question brought back images of the guards, Vincent and Peter. She half-closed her eyes and the memory of Sir Vincent impaling her upon his enormous cock rushed back.