It turned out, however, that was not to be. According to his brother and by his own lack of response to her attempts to reach him by com, he did not want her. So be it, she thought defiantly. She had a keen mind and a secret inheritance. She would strike out on her own.
And she didn’t need a husband or lover to teach her the things she wished to know. She had sent in an application and had been invited to present herself for an assessment at this secret center. Now she’d get to learn what it would be like to become the plaything of a powerful man without actually having to become the plaything of a powerful man. When the assessment was over, she would move on to her next adventure, her wicked knowledge buried inside her.
She thought of Pip’s wrinkled nose as they’d talked of the mysterious center. “Can you imagine that being an obligation? Detestable!” her friend had exclaimed. Pip said most women hated their bedroom duties. It was why prostitutes had to be paid to perform them. Brande recognized the logic, but remained unsure. Even an illicit kiss had caused an ache between her thighs. Perhaps she just wasn’t like most other women. She probably wasn’t. Unique was a word that had been used to describe her most of her life.
Chapter Two
Brande had chosen touse the name Laydair on her adventure. It was the name of a character in a favorite novel that had been removed from the royal libraries. Banned books were always the most interesting. It took quite a bit of stealth to sneak a peek at the quarterly banned list, but she’d gotten good at it over the past few years.
The smooth sloping contours of the Submissive Assessment Center and its pale gray color nearly blended it into the surrounding dunes. To get past the gate, she had to enter the codes she’d been sent by com.
The walkway was surrounded by dark stone and ornamental grasses planted in serpentine patterns. She stepped into the center, setting off a series of musical chimes. Standing in the entry way with its panels of tufted silk made her smile. She recognized the work of several famous artistic weavers. The center must be well funded.
A woman emerged from behind an opaque gray glass door. She had light brown hair and wore a pink silk shift with thin straps. Her nipples were likely pierced based on the tenting fabric draped over her breasts. Brande’s own nipples tightened. Who made the decision to pierce a girl’s nipples? Did she choose it herself? Did it make her more or less valuable? So many questions.
The woman paused in front of Brande. “Laydair?”
She nodded. “You can call me Layda. Everyone does.”
“I will,” she said, pausing to study Brande’s face.
Brandese stood very still, hoping she wouldn’t be recognized. Her face was quite well known, but she’d taken such pains. They needed to be enough.
“Your letter of intent was very well written. We enjoyed reading it.”
“Thank you,” Brande said quickly, exhaling in relief.
“I’m Holliner. Holly, if you like. You look familiar.”
Brande said nothing.
“Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.”
“Everywhere?”
