Chapter One
“I’d been promised sunshine and blue skies and crowds cheering. Instead, it was cloudy and the crowd was sparse and quiet, staring at us curiously as if we were a strange new breed of fire dragons.
All twelve of us maidens climbed up on the long platform that served as the town’s hanging scaffold. It was a solemn procession, and I wondered if the crowd was confused, if they thought we were to be hung rather than wedded.
The Southern town of Deniki did not have a Wedding Block. There were no flowers, no music, no dancing. They just stared at us blank-faced, grim, as if they were still too traumatized by the War between the North and South to make merriment.
I counted: twelve women on the block, eight men in a line to choose their mate. Four women would be left unwed, sent to work as honored servants for the new King, sent back to the Wise Women for more training, or sent home with their parents as hopeless.
No one even clapped as we all curtseyed in unison. I tugged at my finery, trying to make sure no one could see the threadbare hole in my dress.
I felt ridiculous, self conscious. Although I was the daughter of a Master of Lands and his Lady, I was also poor. Our family had lost much in the skirmishes following the death of Lord Khys and his Lady.
Standing there in front of the crowd, I felt like the fall of our family was on display, like I was the icon of our descent, the symbol of it, even the proof of it.
All the other girls were praying for someone handsome and rich. I had too little hope to pray.
My parents stood near the front of the crowd. My father’s face was hard, set in stone, betraying no emotion. My mother, however, was pale. She watched the line anxiously, hoping, no doubt, that four noblemen would suddenly appear.
As it was, there was only one nobleman for four ladies of breeding, if you included me among them.
I knew what my parents were thinking. The new poverty of our noble family could be erased with one good match. As their only daughter, I was their only hope back into the life they’d had before the war between the North and South.
Now that the borders were starting to stabilize, the new Queen had ordered all girls in the South to be trained by the Wise Women, just as they were in the North. So far, only two kinds of people respected the new order: the nobility who did not wish to lose King Erik’s favor, and the very poor who would see their young educated and fed as children, and at the same time, given the hope of a better life.
The nobleman stepped onto the platform, and I remembered my training. I dipped my chin a little, and looked at him sideways through my eyes. I played a small smile, a flirting smile like the Wise Women had tried to teach me.
Except last time we’d practiced, Wise Women Greta had struck my legs with the cane and yelled, “A flirtatious smile, not a grimace! You want to scare away your suitors?”
I cringed at the memory, and at that exact moment, he looked at me. I tried to put my flirting expression back on, but it was too late.
The block master ordered, “Turn!”
We all turned, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The Wise Women had taught us to turn our heads just a little and send the man a smile.
I could not, because any second now, the Block Master would order us to raise our skirts. Everyone—the Block Master, the men waiting in line, and the crowds, would see that I had the smallest phallus of all.
“Present!” he yelled.
I obeyed slowly, holding my breath.
I could sense the man step behind me. A tear bubbled at my eye. His hand rested against my left buttock, and I felt his fingers touch the base of the phallus I’d been broken with the previous night.
“Bend,” he said to me.
I blinked and a tear dropped to the wooden scaffold as I bent my bottom towards this man, towards the crowd. He knelt for a closer view. With two hands, he spread my cheeks so he could get a better view.
He scoffed, stood quickly, and moved on to study the next girl.
My face burned. I could not imagine what he’d seen that had caused such contempt. My phallus had been among the prettiest, even though it had been small. It was decorated with jewels that represented the last pennies my parents had.
In the end, he chose beautiful, fragile, delicate Alyssa, with her tiny arms and big blue eyes. I was relieved to lower my skirt, but then I realized I had to face the audience again.
The remaining seven men were all peasants, probably here for another hand to help on the farm more than someone to love. They were eager in line, wearing big grins and clapping each other on the back.
Two men stood still and silent as the others exchanged coins and shuffled their places in line.
There was supposed to be no money, no bidding. Whether we’d been born and bred nobility or born a peasant, the maidens were promised equality. The men were to choose a woman in order of rank.
The maidens beside me were quiet, mostly watching as Alyssa rode off with the nobleman. None of them were brave enough to look at the men bidding for a place in line to take us away.
The next man hopped up the steps and, ignoring all protocol, just grabbed Sharon’s hand and dragged her off the platform. Patsy, standing beside me, gasped. The next two were hardly any better. Clumsy, big, and they licked their lips like they were going to take us home, cook us up, and have a good dinner.
But even these men would have nothing of me. By the time the fourth man stepped off the block with his wife, tears of shame were running down my cheeks. I could hardly breathe.
What would happen if I was not chosen?
In the North, those not chosen were previously sent to labor for Lord Khys of the North, often in his Laundry. In the South, the rules were new. Lady Lena had promised the best of those not chosen positions as “honored servants,” if they did not wish to return to the Wise Women or to their parents.
My parents would turn me out. I’d failed them completely.
The next man was one of the silent ones. He took one glance at me and shook his head. “By the gods,” he said. He took Sharon.
The sixth smiled at me kindly, but I was starting to hyperventilate. “Breathe, child. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone shake so badly.”
When the seventh man stepped off with his bride, I knew it was no use. I was a shame to my family. I’d been trying not to cry for the whole of it. I could feel my eyes were red, and I could feel the stain of snot and tears wetting my face. I could not even look at the last man as he stepped across the platform, let alone send a flirtatious smile.
The crowd was quiet, and I felt like all eyes were on me, witnessing my shame. The more I thought of it, the more I cried. I could not see my parents, but I knew my father, at least, would be livid under his stoic demeanor.
I swiped at the tears in time to see the last dusty peasant, the other quiet one, climbing the scaffold.
When he passed by me, I burst out with a sob. I clapped a hand over my mouth, humiliated at my display. I could not see Father clearly through my tears, but I could see his form turn away in disgust.
I wanted to run away.
The man stopped. “Is your heart already given to another?”
I shook my head.
“Then why so many tears?”
A sob bubbled up again, and though I swallowed it, I made an awful squeaky sort of burping sound as I swallowed it.
He touched my cheek. “You’re as good as any other, I expect.”
And then I stared at him in horror. I realized, all of a sudden, that there was something far worse than being passed over by eight men: it was to be chosen by a peasant such as him. At least if I’d gone back to the Wise Woman, there was a tiny bit of hope. Even if I became a servant, I could still be taken by a Dragon Master some day. There was still hope.
Once I was Chosen, all hope was lost.
“Turn, let me see.”
I shook my head.
He looked at me in surprise as the other maidens gasped at my disobedience. The Block Master was busy speaking to the mayor. He suddenly sensed something was amiss. He looked at me and ordered, “Present!”
I did not.
The crowd seemed to perk up, as if they sensed they were finally going to get some entertainment from the day. The Block Master made his way towards me, his face going red.
“Diana, present!” He pointed his switch at me, warning me.
I shook my head, glaring at the dusty farmer.
When the Block Master grabbed my arm, I expected I’d be able to fight him off, or at least prevent him from punishing me. But an instant after he grabbed my arm, I was turned, bent over, and he’d wrapped his arm around my waist as he switched my bare legs.
I bit on my tongue. No way would I cry out before all the townspeople. I squeezed my eyes shut. In my mind’s eye, I imagined I saw my father’s face: angry, disappointed, embarrassed. The switch lashed at my legs as I wished with all my might I could go back to yesterday, when my world was normal and safe and predictable.
“Enough,” I heard. “She will come with me.”
The dusty peasant pulled me up. I looked towards my father and mother desperately, but they were gone.
### ###
He dragged me off the scaffold while I scanned the crowd for my parents. I knew in my heart they were gone, knew in my heart why.
As he pulled me down a side street, I tried yanking my hand from his.
“You’re hurting me!” I cried.
He stopped in the middle of the street and turned. “What was I thinking?” he muttered.
“If you’re hoping my father will reward you for marrying me and make you rich, you’re mistaken. We lost everything during the war between the North and South.”
“I’m not,” he said.
I didn’t know what to say to that. “Do you have a servant, at least?”
He looked at me, and his bushy mustache twitched. “No, milady.” He exaggerated the milady with a twinkle in his eye, as if we were sharing some great joke.
It only served to remind me just how far I had fallen.
I slapped his arm.
“Don’t do that again.”
I did.
He grabbed my wrist
“Don’t touch me!” I cried.
“I will touch my property as I please.”
I whimpered and tried to twist away, but his hand tightened around my wrist.
“That hurts!” I cried. In truth, he was holding my hand quite loosely, but I did not like the way he had so easily captured it. I flailed and kicked, and he backed me up against a wall to contain me.
And then I could see my struggle aroused him. His eyes darkened with desire, and I could feel his phallus harden by my belly.
“You need taming, don’t you?”
“No!” I cried, too loudly. Several of the townspeople were making their way back to their homes, and they turned to look at me.
“I am not hurting you,” he said, still holding my wrist loosely. “I will not hurt you.”
“You already have,” I said, lowering my voice to a seething whisper.
He blew out a breath. “Would you like to go home with me now, or would you like a spanking in the middle of the street and then go home with me?”
“Neither!”
“Choose quickly or I will choose for you.”
It was no choice at all. I glanced down the alleyway, wondering if I could get away that way. His hand tightened around my wrist. And what if I did get away? Where would I go then? What could I do?
I realized then, this was it. My life had just been decided, my fate chosen for me. “I hate this!” Tears came again, but they were angry ones. I swiped at them with my arm and tried to hide them from this man.
“I’m sorry for that,” he said. He let go of my hand and headed down the dusty road, evidently confident I would follow.
I hated that he was right. I followed, but I didn’t like it. I stewed. I didn’t even know his name.
Plenty of time for that.
As I sulked behind him, the houses grew smaller and smaller, and the fields bigger and bigger. By the time the man stopped, we were in front of a tiny one room cabin, hardly as big as my bedroom at home.
I didn’t know what to say.
I followed him inside. On the left was a heavy, wooden kitchen table. To the right, a bed. Then there were two chairs in front of a hearth, and a huge fireplace.
And that was it. The whole of my life reduced to this.
He went to the soup kettle in the fireplace and ladled out a bowl of soup. He plopped it on the table.
I stared at the watery, gray soup. “I’m not hungry.”
“You sit. And you’ll eat.”
When I sat, I winced. The phallus inside me felt like it was scraping my insides when I moved.
“What’s wrong?”
I blushed.
He chuckled. “Right. Stand up.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to with the way he was looking at me. His eyes had gone dark, and his expression was the same as a dragon just before war.
This man wanted me.
This surprised me, even though the Wise Women had prepared us, told us it would be like this. I hadn’t been thinking about him at all.
I could only whisper, “I’m not ready yet.”
“I will not force you, Diana.”
I blew out a breath. “But the Wise Women said … they said that you had to, the night I came home, to make me yours.”
“This is true.”
He turned me over gently and pushed me over the table, and I was sure that he would take me from behind. Or spank me. But he was only removing my phallus.
I bucked, gasping. “It hurts for you to take it out!” I cried.
“It is dry. I am sorry they do this to you.”
“Are you sorry they made me stand on the scaffold and be whisked away into poverty and disgrace?”
There was a pause.
A long pause.
“No, I’m not altogether sorry for that.” He pulled it all the way out, and then he washed it in a bowl of water and soap. I stood up even though he had not given me leave. The Wise Women would have switched my legs for that, but he didn’t say a thing.
He took my phallus and wrapped it in a small cloth. Then he moved to put it in a satchel he had hanging over a chair.
At the very least I could send it back to my parents. The money they’d spent on it felt like a debt. I’d been expected to snare a rich husband for their investment; the least I could do was return their jewels.
“It’s mine,” I fiercely claimed, grabbing at it. “It’s mine!”
He still held it. “All that is yours is mine.”
“Give it to me!”
He did not. “Diana, I am trying to be kind to you. Do you need a spanking to teach you who your new Master is?”
“Hah!” I spat on the dirt floor in his tiny one-room cabin. “You would call yourself a Master? You are Master of no one, except maybe the dirt! Look at you, you wear it encrusted on you so thick, I can hardly tell if you have any clothes at all!”
“Careful, wife. I would have you speak more respectfully to me.”
“I would not!”
He pushed me back over the edge of the table again in one quick motion and I cried out. I tried to get up but he still had a hand to my back. “Let me up! You barbarian, let me up!”
“Not until I’ve spanked you.”
“No! If you beat me now, I will never call you my Master! Never!”
Then he put his hand on my butt. I could feel the enormity of it span my bottom, engulfing it. “You are mad! My father will come, and he will see a peasant touching his daughter and he will kill you! He will kill you, I say! I will write and tell him, and he will use his knife to slit your throat! I have seen him do it before, when the invaders from the North came!”
But my words seemed not to matter, because his big hand suddenly smacked my bottom with such force I cried out.
“For pity’s sake, give your mouth a rest.” He smacked my bottom five times fast. “Let us get to know each other in peace.”
Peace? Peace? He expected me to feel peace while his hand was blistering my bottom? I gripped the other side of the table, as if the harder I squeezed, the less pain I’d feel. I strained to stay still and submissive, as the Wise Women had taught us, but I wasn’t feeling submissive at all; anger and fear swirled through me.
I stomped my foot.
He laughed and kept spanking.
This infuriated me so much, I tried to stand up. I was surprised succeeded. I was surprised, I stared at him a little open-mouthed. He just stared back, watching me, waiting curiously to see what I would do.
I wasn’t sure what to do. We stood there for a few second, him looking comfortable, me feeling awkward. Then he put his hand around the back of my neck and gently led me back to position. It reminded me of the way my father used to position me when I was young.
“You’re not done, are you?” he asked softly.
This time, when he spanked me, I cried. I cried for disappointing my father, for failing my family, for the life I would never lead. His hand kept spanking, as if egging my tears on. I cried and cried, and I was crying for a long time before I realized he’d stopped, before I realized his hand was making circled on my back to comfort me.
I closed my eyes, my cheek resting on the table as I closed my eyes. I did feel at peace, like the emotions had just been worn out of me.
His hand rubbed down my back, over my bottom, and slid between my thighs. “You are wet, milady. If I claim you now, it will not hurt.”
“Hurt?” I squeaked.
He laughed softly. He pulled me up and tucked my head under his chin as he hugged. “You are just barely grown. Yesterday you were in a school of children and now you’re in the real world. I forget you’ll need some time to grow up. Come, you should take a nap.”
I struggled free. “I am not a child!”
He gave me a look. With my bottom still hot, I was fairly certain that look would lead to more spanking.
“Fine, I’m tired, I’ll take a nap, but it’s not because I’m a child. I’ve been of marriageable age for two years now.”
“Then I’ll have return you. I don’t want an old hag for a wife.”
He sounded dead serious. I stared up at him in shock, uncertain whether I wanted him to be joking or not. He palmed my cheek and used his thumb to wipe a tear away. “To bed with you, Diana.”
As he led me over to the bed, I asked, “What’s your name?”
He grinned. “Kowen.”
