The Institute:Mishka's Spanking: Age Play Discipline Romance (10 page)

It smelled like him too—that warm, spicy, campfire smell that seemed to get in my head and make me dizzy. I tried to ignore it as I hopped out of the shuttle and followed A.L. out of the docking area.

“So you’re an artificial life form?” I asked him as he hummed along, his round, blinking light-eye glowing like a lantern. The metal arm it was connected to slid neatly through the silver ceiling panels which parted with a ripple as he went and closed behind him seamlessly. I wondered what kind of alien technology allowed metal to flow like water. Then again, the fact that they were able to suck me through a mirror was even more impressive.

“I am indeed, Lady Zoe,” he answered in his prim and proper voice.

“And is that what A. L. stands for?” I asked. “Artificial Life form?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have any other name?” I asked curiously.

“Do I need one?” His proper butler voice sounded curious. “Master Sarden acquired me along with the rest of the ship in a game of chance. He has never bothered to give me any other name but I did not think I required one.”

“Everyone needs a name,” I said. “I’d name you Alfred, I think—that’s a good butler-type name. Al for short, which also goes with your initials.”

“Alfred.” He sounded cautiously pleased. “I think I like that, though I am not sure what a butler is.”

I explained briefly and Al got excited—in a mechanical kind of way.

“Yes—one who serves. This exactly encompasses my directive.” His light blinked excitedly. “Thank you, Lady Zoe. I shall be pleased to be your butler, Al.”

“Just Zoe is fine,” I said, smiling a little at his enthusiasm. “Last time I looked I was just a girl from Tampa—not landed gentry or anything.”

“Oh, but you must be accorded a title of respect,” Al told me seriously. “You have no idea, I think, of how very rare and special you are. You are the first Pure One to be officially taken from your planet. And you are a
La-ti-zal
as well.”

“Whatever that means,” I muttered. I still thought it was a load of hogwash, as my Granny would say. “Okay, where are we?”

I had been following Al through a narrow maze of metal corridors that made me feel kind of claustrophobic. But now they had opened out into one long, wide hallway which seemed to run the length of the ship.

“To the left is the navcom and the control area.” Al’s blinking light indicated the long metal passage with a nod. “To the right are areas for sleeping, eating, and entertainment. I believe these areas will be more to your interest. If you would follow me?”

“What if I don’t want to follow you? What if I want to see the control area?” I asked.

“Well, it is not
forbidden,
but I do not think you would know how to use any of the equipment. And even if you could, it would be impossible since all controls are voice locked to Master Sarden,” Al explained.

I sighed. No wonder Sarden felt free to let me wander around—I couldn’t affect anything since the whole ship responded only to him.

So much for my fantasies of getting in the cockpit, turning the ship around and flying back to Earth. Somehow in science fiction movies, the heroes are always able to figure out the alien tech and use it against the invaders. But I had to admit, though I hated to, that I wasn’t a techy kind of girl. Half the time I don’t understand everything my smartphone is doing. As complicated as the shuttle had looked, I didn’t think I had a chance of learning to fly the huge, needle-shaped spacecraft. Anyway, if it was locked to Sarden’s voice, then there was no way I could do anything—even if I’d been the geekiest science-freak around.

No, if I was going to get out of this predicament, it wasn’t going to be by learning to fly a spaceship. I would have to appeal to Sarden’s good side—if he had one, the big red jerk. I had to make him see me as more than a prisoner or a trading commodity. I had to make him see me as a
person
.

I had read an article about that once—about a girl who got kidnapped by some guys who wanted to hold her for ransom. She turned the situation around and made friends with her captors. They liked her so much they let her go without a scratch on her—she did a kind of reverse Stockholm syndrome thing on them.

That’s what I would have to do—reverse Stockholm the shit out of this situation until Big Red
wanted
to take me back to Earth. Which meant I was going to have to be a hell of a lot more charming than I usually was.

Well, crap.

Still, it was the only thing I could think of—Plan A. I had to put it into motion and the first thing to do was to find out more about my captor. I thought I had an idea of where to start.

“Take me to the sleeping quarters,” I told Al. “I’m, uh, kind of tired. I’d like to lie down.”

“You have, of course, had a very stressful experience, being transported from your home world.” Al sounded almost as if he cared. I wondered if he really somehow did or if it was just good programming.

“I have.” I manufactured a yawn. “I’m really tired.”

“Come this way.” His glowing light-eye led me down the corridor, pointing out various other areas along the way. “This is the food prep and dining area, where you may simulate yourself any kind of comestibles for your gustatory enjoyment.”

“Nice,” I murmured, taking a quick look as we went by. I caught a glimpse of a long bar against one wall with tall stools bolted to the table and a strange gold cylinder that looked like the world’s biggest stock pot with lots of brightly colored wires coming from it.

“And here is our entertainment area,” Al continued, his light nodding to another area as we passed. “Here you can enjoy written, recorded, or holographic entertainments to pass the time during space travel.”

“Holographic?” The thought made me come to a screeching stop. “Like the holo-deck on Star Trek?”

“I am not familiar with the entertainment you mention,” Al said.

“I mean, is it a big room where you can imagine any scenario and the computer creates everything to go along with it so you can play out your wildest fantasies?”

The thought made me almost salivate with excitement. I thought of all the fantasies I could play out. I would instruct Al to download a copy of Outlander by Dianna Gabaldon and I would be Claire and he could simulate me a sexy, Scottish Jamie…or I could be Beth from J.R. Ward’s Dark Lover novel and he could simulate the hot vampire king, Wrath. (Can you tell I read a lot of romance?)

Or I might just play out a Sherlock Holmes scenario like they did in the Next Generation—remember the one where Moriarty got out and nearly took over The Enterprise? (God, I am
such
a geek.)

But if I did Sherlock Holmes, I decided, I would
definitely
play Watson and have Al simulate Holmes as Benedict Cumberbatch. Because how hot is he? Yum! It would be the first time that Watson actually jumped Holmes’ bones instead of just helping with his cases. Well, the first time outside of fan fiction anyway…

Or, leaving the book fantasies behind, I could just be a rich and famous model, walking the catwalk in fabulous clothes. Okay, I know I said I own my curves and I do. But just once it would be nice to be effortlessly skinny, you know? I’d like to see how it felt to be a size three with paparazzi all around, salivating for a glimpse of my sexy hip bones…

“Ah…I am afraid not. The holograph projector simply shows images of different areas of the known universe. You are not able to interact with them.”

Al’s proper butler voice brought me crashing down to Earth. Or to the spaceship, anyway.

“Damn.” To say I was super disappointed is an understatement. For a minute, I’d almost felt like it was worth being abducted by aliens. I’ve always wanted my own private holo-deck. But oh well, on with the plan.

“I am sorry if you find the entertainment facilities lacking,” Al said apologetically.

“Never mind.” I sighed. “Just take me to my room, please.”

“With pleasure, Lady Zoe.”

He led the way down the corridor until we came to a row of sliding metal doors.

“This will be your room for the duration of our trip.” Al motioned at the last door on the left. “Simply wave your hand to break the beam and the door will open.”

I didn’t see any beam(maybe it was invisible?) but I waved my hand in front of the door he’d indicated anyway and sure enough, it slid open with nearly silent
whoosh.

Inside was a metal counter about waist high, a single chair, and a large silver bean bag floating about three feet off the floor. It was really long and looked like it had been built for someone Sarden’s size, so it was going to be like sleeping in a king sized bed for me.

“Whoa…” I walked forward and put my hand out to touch the silver material of the bag. It was soft as silk under my fingers. “How cool is this? A hover bed!”

“It works by simple principles of magnetic deflection,” Al said modestly. “It gives excellent support while cushioning your whole body.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” I said and I really wasn’t lying. By now, you can probably tell I’m kind of a Scifi geek. If I hadn’t been captured with the express intent of being sold off to some alien trader in a galaxy far, far away, being aboard a genuine space ship would have been a dream come true.

“There are bathing facilities as well. Here.” Al glided further into the room and then into a smaller doorway set in the wall opposite the bed. I followed him, wondering what alien bathroom fixtures looked like. I really hoped they had a recognizable toilet—it would be super awkward to have to ask Al how to use it if I couldn’t figure it out just by looking.

But it wasn’t the toilet that caught my eye when I went into the bathroom. There was a rectangular enclosure filled with clear, pale purple liquid standing in the center of the room. It was about five feet wide by five feet across and enclosed by a clear barrier that might have been glass or plastic or some alien material I had never heard of. It was tall, too—reaching almost to the high metal ceiling overhead.

“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing it in confusion.

“The pool of personal cleansing. Do you not have such things on Earth?” Al asked, sounding confused. “Do you not bathe?”

“Of course we bathe!” I exclaimed. “But we usually take a shower or a bath.”

“A bath—as in you submerse yourself in water or cleansing liquids?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then you should feel right at home! The PPC is for exactly that purpose. Simply slide open the entrance hatch…” He indicated a sliding door on one side of the clear enclosure. “And step inside to be thoroughly cleansed.”

I frowned. “Are you trying to tell me this thing is a huge vertical bathtub? How can you open the door without all the, uh, water—is that water? Anyway, without it going everywhere?”

“There is a moisture repellant field around it which keeps the cleansing liquid in of course,” Al said, as though it should have been obvious. “I really must learn more about your home world. How do your people keep cleansing liquids contained?”

“With good old fashioned gravity, mostly. I mean, we use uh, horizontal bathtubs, not vertical ones,” I said.

“But then, how are you able to submerse yourself fully and completely?”

“We don’t.” I shivered as I looked at the alien “bathtub.” As I said, the enclosure was tall—a lot taller than me. If I got into the purple pool, it would be over my head—
way
over.

Just the thought gave me a nauseous, squirmy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I remembered the last time water had closed over my head…looking up through the murky blue light, panicking at the thought that I would never break the surface again as the chlorine burned my throat and my lungs filled with liquid. And then there was Angela…

I pushed the memory away, feeling sick.

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult but do you have any other way to clean yourself around here?” I asked Al. “I’m, uh, afraid I don’t swim and it looks like that stuff would be…would be over my head.”

“We do have a misting chamber for refreshment although I do not recommend it for everyday use. It simply will not be able to get you completely clean.”

“Misting chamber sounds great,” I said, ignoring his warning. After all, it wasn’t like I was planning to do any heavy lifting or hard work outs while I was here. A light shower should be able to get me clean and even if it couldn’t, there was no way I was getting into that huge vat of purple liquid.

“This way.” Al led me to something that looked kind of like a shower stall back home but without a shower head. In fact, I didn’t see any knobs or nozzles at all.

“Uh, how do you work it?” I asked, frowning.

“Simply disrobe and step inside. The mister will activate on sensing your presence.”

“Okay.” That seemed straightforward enough. “And, uh, your restroom facilities?” I asked, feeling embarrassed. I hoped they weren’t weird—by this time I
really
needed to pee. Being abducted and dragged through a mirror onto an alien spaceship tends to do that to me.

“This way.” Al showed me to another small alcove which had what looked like a silver chair with a solid bottom. Like the silver beanbag bed, it was large—obviously built for someone a lot bigger than a regular human. But there was no hole in the middle of it. No place for anything to
go
, if you know what I mean.

“Uh…” Just what I was afraid of—I was going to have to ask for an explanation.

“Simply remove any encumbrances to elimination and seat yourself upon the waste disposal unit,” Al said helpfully. “The center will open for your convenience and remove the products of elimination via air suction.” He nodded at a grouping of three silver buttons mounted on the wall beside the unit. “There are three suction strengths to choose from, depending on your need.”

Okay,” I said again. “That all sounds nice but I don’t see any, uh, toilet paper.”

“Toilet paper?” Al sounded like he was frowning in confusion. “What is that?”

I could feel my cheeks going red. I’m a private bathroom person so I’ve never liked talking about this kind of thing—not even to a robot, or whatever Al was. It’s embarrassing.

“It’s this soft roll of paper—that is, thin sheets of disposable material—that we use to, um, clean up after the elimination process,” I told him.