The pleasant warmth inside her vanished. Her inhibitions hardened again, along with a vague vein of fear running up her spine. Now she really wanted to know what he was going to do with her. But the courage to ask was gone as well.
She stood as straight as she could, trying to maintain a facade of bravery. But it was only a facade. It was all she could do to keep herself from trembling in front of Rychor looming in front of her.
His hand swept to the platform. “Mount the examination table,” he said.
Her eyes bugged.Examination table?“W-what?” she stammered.
Rychor stayed rooted in place. “Lie down on the table,” he said, pointing to the platform.
She wondered if he’d misused the wordexamination. Whatever artificial intelligence he was using to speak English was obviously not perfect. His speech was overly formal, often stilted. What, exactly, was he planning to examine? “I don’t really see why…” she began.
“Lie down or you will receive a correction,” he said, interrupting.
The memory of his whip on her backside released the shudder she’d been suppressing. It shimmered down her spine, shaking her breasts. She took a tentative step forward, then another, realizing she had no choice but to obey him. Turning as far away from him as she could, she placed both hands on the platform and hopped up. It was high enough that her feet dangled over the edge. Like being at the doctor’s office. Except she was naked. And Rychor was an alien and no doctor.
“Lie on your back,” he ordered.
Squinting against the glare of the white light that filled the room, she swung her feet up onto the platform. Spun on her bottom, her feet pointed away from him, and she lowered herself onto her back, arms at her sides.
Now she felt even more exposed. This seemed like the stuff she’d read in history books back at the academy. Late twentieth century accounts of people insisting they’d been abducted and probed by aliens. She remembered the laughter she’d shared with her fellow cadets as the professor had recounted the tales. It all seemed so far away now. Could it have been true?
One cycle ago she would have dismissed the idea as preposterous. Now? Not so much.
She watched Rychor out of the corner of her eye as he moved to the entrance of the room.
She heard feet shuffling. A few seconds later, a team of three Ryvokia entered. She gasped and stared as they marched toward her. They were clothed in what she would have called bio-suits. Baggy coveralls and helmet-like head coverings with visors to see through. They reminded her of the exo-suit that was still probably lying on the ground in the vast chamber where she’d woken up. One of the trio had his hand on a tray, pushing it in front of him. It didn’t seem to be supported by anything, floating through the air as he walked.
Rychor followed them as they took up positions at her feet. He watched as they muttered among themselves and sorted through whatever tools they’d brought. After a few minutes, one of the three stood and whispered something to Rychor she couldn’t hear.
He scowled and shook his head in reply.
The one who’d spoken gave a curt nod and went back to his work.
Her heart had started pounding again. Her eyes were wide and her pupils had dilated, she could tell, because the light hitting her eyes was almost painful. Her lips were shut tight, the corners of her mouth turned down. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to run. The only thing keeping her in place was the memory of Rychor’s hand on her bottom.
As the three attendants finished their preparations, Rychor turned to look at her. “Open your legs,” he said.
Trembling, she met his eyes, as if to determine if he really meant this “request” for her. Her mouth fell open when she saw his gaze—at first comforting—turn cool and clinical. Her heart dropped as she realized her mistake—yet again. She had wanted to connect with him because she was afraid, and so she had imagined a connection with a creature that was probably not even capable of such a thing.
She did nothing for a moment, except look at him with pleading eyes that turned defiant as his own gaze turned cool.
“Noncompliance will result in discipline,” he said.
She was too shocked to say anything. The word “discipline” both scared her and made her stomach flip-flop, warm and cold at the same time.
Rychor’s eyes flitted to the many screens that were materializing on the walls. The other creatures were clearly subordinate to him, awaiting his instructions.
His eyes went back to her as he spoke, and then to the screens to read something from them afterward. “If you do not comply, you will be punished and restrained, then disciplined. The tests will be completed regardless.”
Another sinking, thrilling feeling in her stomach. She willed her legs to open, and the act of complying of her own free will was more humiliating than the promise of restraints. At least if they “restrained” her, she thought, she would feel less like she was doing something incrediblywrong.
Her legs parted, and then she caved in and folded them back together, shaking her head. “I… just… can’t…” she murmured hopelessly, looking at Rychor.
“This is an examination to determine your sexual parameters and viability,” Rychor’s voice said, closer to her ear. “Do you consent to proceeding, or do you require further incentive? You will not be hurt. The purpose of this test is to determine the parameters of your desires.”
“Wh-what if I don’t? Consent?” she whispered, her voice shaking. But it was shaking with something other than fear, something she recognized and did not want to admit to, because the humiliation of that admission was too much to bear.
Deep down inside, she very much wanted to consent, to give herself over to this absurd situation. Between her legs, she was throbbing with desire that she wanted to deny. Denying her consent might stave that admission off for a while, but at the cost of punishment, and her bottom throbbed with heat when she even considered the option.
