Part one here

When Tzara awoke she was in bed. The honey-glow of sunlight poured through the open window emphasising the rich and red-brown panelled walls. She could even smell the wood and from outside she could hear birdsong. She sat up.

Well apparently her plan had worked, she wasn’t dead anyway. The last thing she remembered was… was Ginette walking away from her with that look of disgust. Tzara felt a wave of nausea. It had been the program, this program, it had killed the ship. The captain too, probably, but her thoughts couldn’t go there, that was too much.

“Are you feeling better?” a woman asked and a startled Tzara look around and saw Maria sitting by her bed. “You fainted.”

Tzara nodded and forced a smile. “Where is Galen?” Suddenly she wanted to be held. Once that would have been a crazy idea, but the avatar had warned that this world was real. If it looks like an elephant… she took a deep breath and smelled the trees and flowers beyond her window, and smells like an elephant. In 17 seconds she would either be dead or running for her life again from the burning wreckage of the ship, but for now she had 10 lifetimes to live out, or maybe just one long one, she didn’t really know how it worked. There was always a chance that the holo-chip and stasis chamber would survive the crash and… 3,000 years would pass every hour and rescue, if it ever came, could take weeks or months. She swallowed hard and wondered how many hours there were in a year. Who would she even be by then?

“My lord Galen is the Great Hall my lady,” Maria said, cutting into her thoughts.

Tzara nodded and wondered what Ginette and Taylor had chosen. They could have opted to sleep she realised and suddenly wished she had considered that option.

“Apart from Tzara, who has already chosen her path,” the avatar had said. Well she guessed she hadn’t had that option. She sighed.

“I should get dressed,” Tzara said.

“My lady,” Maria intoned respectfully and got to her feet.

*

Tzara swept into the room like a princess. She had just survived death and probably saved two people. For the moment she was still a senior officer and she had no time for frivolities, petty social orders or her own churning guilt.

Lord Galen, Karl, Lucinda and a few other nobles were sitting for a light repast and chatting. Set against the grandeur and the sunlight windows it was an idyllic scene. Tzara felt sick.

Galen looked up and smiled. “Come and sit down,” he said and gestured to a chair.

For the longest second Tzara wanted to run to him to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Then her heart hardened. “What a lovely spread,” she said sourly, “We are so lucky.” The captain would never eat again. She didn’t deserve this.

Galen frowned. “Moderate your tone,” he said.

“She is still unwell,” Lucinda said quickly.

“And I have the cure,” Galen said drily.

“I doubt it,” Tzara said bitterly, her words not meant for him.

Galen arched his brows and glanced at the Lord Chamberlain who shrugged.

“I think, young lady, that you need a serious attitude adjustment,” Galen scolded and stood to pull his chair away from the table.

“Yeah, that will work,” Tzara sneered, she wanted to smash everything.

Galen sighed and he caught Lucinda’s eye. The woman shrugged. Then with a shake of his head he slipped out of his coat and began rolling up his sleeves. Then to Tzara he said, “Come here.”

Tzara snorted derisively, only half aware what was about to happen. She was done with that game.

Galen regarded her sternly for a long moment and was suddenly put in mind of his sister after she had come of age. Before any marriage had been spoken of she had been a lost soul for a while and a total brat. Both mother and father had spanked her often and her hot red bottom had decorated many a room until her moods and evened out. He sat down again in the nearest armless chair. This time it was another bottom that needed attention.

One moment Tzara was standing as if on the bridge calculating her options and the next she was face down across Galen’s lap.

“No you don’t understand,” she gasped. Then she felt her skirts tugged in back and suddenly they were being rucked up. “You can’t do this, I am…” Her loose linen under garment was pulled at the drawstring and quickly went south.

Galen spanked her once sharply across the bare bottom. “Get me a hairbrush,” he barked, remembering that that was his parent’s weapon of choice for his sister. Then without waiting he made a start with the flat of his hand. “Act like a child and you will be treated like a child, here in this chamber in front of everyone.”

Tzara growled angrily and tried to break away. “Bastard,” she hissed.

“Are we really back to that?” Galen chuckled and began spanking her soundly.

“Ah, ow, no, please, please not here,” she spluttered, she was suddenly aware that all eyes must be on her and for a moment everything else was pushed from her mind.

“Oh here is just fine,” Galen told her and spanked her already red bottom again with a crisp burning impact.

By now several of those assembled were laughing openly, even the usual taciturn pages began to twitch at the mouth. From their place across the hall they could see their lord’s haughty favourite tail up and struggling across his lap, her bare bottom rapidly getting redder and redder with the rapid volley of slaps.

“No please, ow, no, ooh,” Tzara continued to protest.

“My girl I have had enough,” Galen scolded, “By the time I am done here you won’t be sitting for a while and everyone here will know it. When I am finished, and I assure you, I am in no rush, you will go and face the long wall with your bare bottom facing the high table on show for anyone coming in and out of the hall.”

“Please no, I’m sorry,” Tzara wailed; this was too much.

Just then a page scurried over and handed Galen a long handled brush, which was almost a cubit long with a striking end as large as a man’s hand. “It is a cloak brush, my lord, will it serve?”

“Indeed,” Galen said in approval as he took it.

“Oh no, no please,” Tzara protested when she looked back over her shoulder. “Please, I am sorry, I…” She did not know what was worse, the public humiliation or the prospect of that brush spanking her bare bottom.

The first spank with the brush drew a shriek and fresh twisting by the concubine. Any semblance that Tzara was or had ever been a bridge officer dissolved, like her, into tears and she began to bawl like Galen’s sister had not so many years before. Not that Ms Tzang had ever known the woman; she had yet to have that pleasure. Indeed once upon a time the poor girl had never existed, but now she was as real as anyone in the room. Certainly she was as real as the brush that now impacted the soundest spanking Tzara had ever had to her by then very sore, very red bare bottom.

Lucinda watched as the red of her friend’s behind grew darker and deeper. Rubbery welts had even begun to from along the edges of the bottom as they whitened towards tender blisters. Rather her than me, she thought, knowing that no real harm would befall Tzara, just a good old fashioned spanking that by the looks of it was long overdue. The only danger was that the red was giving way to dark plum.

“What do we think, a week, two weeks?” Karl said absently as he helped himself to an apple off the table.

“My Lord?” Lucinda asked without taking her eyes from the action.

“Until she can sit down,” the Lord Chamberlain expanded.

“Oh, three days until she can sit at all and then maybe 10 days until she wants to sit,” Lucinda said cheerfully.

“It is a wager then,” Karl chuckled.

“I have no money except yours,” Lucinda protested.

Karl grinned. “If she hasn’t sat at least once by the fourth day or is still wincing and rubbing when she thinks no one is looking two weeks from now then I will spank you…” he gestured to the sobbing kicking Tzara, “Like that.”

Lucinda was no longer smiling and licked her lips nervously. “And if she does?”

“I will buy you a gown,” Karl laughed.

Lucinda looked again on Tzara’s sore bottom, it was doubtful that wet flannels and soothing herbs would have sitting any time soon, it would be touch and go, she thought glumly.

Finally the spanking came to an end and Tzara was drawn into Galen’s arms crying loudly like a child.

“Better?” Galen asked her.

She sniffed and nodded. Strangely it was true.

“Now, over there between the two high windows opposite, you can stand nose to the wall, skirts up mind,” Galen commanded.

For second defiance touched her face, but she did not dare disobey the man whose gaze drilled into her. “Oh God,” she sniffed again and wiped her nose.

There was no dignity in it, certainly no pride, but she crossed the room with her bottom still bare and committed herself to a childish time out in front of the entire court. Once there she held her skirts up and groaned a sound of soft misery before she started to cry again.

To be continued…