Janys believed it would take many days to fully recover from her punishment, but Shalimerie's salves worked their usual miracles. Two days after the Professor's departure, she scarcely noticed the soreness. That night she and Martel made love for the first time since the forbinner.

As her husband lowered her onto the bed, his mouth licking at the tender places where he'd applied the strap, she remembered the Professor's kiss. Should she take her friend's advice and tell Martel what happened during those seconds before she pulled away? Or should she just enjoy resuming their intimacies? Maybe she should simply write what happened in the bibalon and let him deal with it.

But when the next decedonner rolled around, the bibalon page remained blank. Nonetheless when Martel blew out the candles, she brought the marital paddle to the bedroom and got ready. Whatever he decided to do, she hoped it wouldn't be too hard, because the bruises hadn't completely faded from her rear end.

She felt him move behind her and pick up the book. "Interesting," he commented. "Between the forbinner and the ending of lessons with my mother, nothing has been written for me to address today. Are you sure you have nothing to report requiring my attention?"

Again she thought of the moments when she'd lost herself in her former lover's arms. If she told him, it would be over in a few minutes. She knew he'd be angry she'd led him to believe nothing but conversation happened with the Professor, and undoubtedly hurt she'd crossed the line, but surely he'd forgive her?

Yes, of course he would. But she suspected the paddling he'd deliver would make her first decedonner seem like love taps. As much as she wanted to end the secrecy, she couldn't bring herself to trigger an otherwise avoidable walloping.

"No, there's nothing I want to add." At least literally that was the truth. "Does that mean you don't need to spank me this time?"

"Oh, we never let a decedonner pass unnoticed." He slapped her bottom lightly. "But I think we can do this one in a way you will like more than usual."

Right. I'm going to like a spanking. Even if the Prof were correct about her being brainwashed, they hadn't pushed her so far she'd claim she enjoyed it.

"You can go ahead and take the paddle back downstairs," Martel directed. "My hand will do for tonight."

At least that was a relief. She practically ran down the stairs to get the paddle reinstalled before he changed his mind, although she knew from experience her husband didn't need wood to make an impression on her backside.

When she got back he'd sat down on the bed with pillows piled on either side. To her surprise, he'd taken off his tunic, giving her a wonderful view of his shoulders and long, tapered arms. The butterflies in her stomach turned into something much more interesting as he motioned her over, his hands undoing the clasps on her sleep tunic until she stood naked in front of him. He guided her down over his lap, then arranged the pillows under her head, chest and legs. "Comfortable?"

That was a first. He'd never cared before about the rest of her body when he prepared to assault her buttocks. "Yes," she admitted. The pillows supported her perfectly, and under other circumstances, she could imagine drifting off to sleep in the position.

"Then relax and open your legs a little wider."

She started to tense up, remembering how he'd spread her thighs on the spanking bench so the strap could hit home. How helpless she'd been with her hands and feet restrained, unable to do anything to protect her mound from the snap of the doubled-over leather. But now his hands glided over her, gently playing with her globes as she separated her limbs to accommodate him.

"You have such a beautiful bottom, Janys." He traced circles on her right cheek, then switched to the left. "Sometimes I have to turn it red, or—" he touched one of the bruises—"other colors, but tonight I will make it a lovely pink. You will be able to look at it and know how much I care about you."

Janys almost snorted. He might think turning her skin pink constituted some form of love, but she'd have preferred flowers. Except what was he doing? Instead of the smacks she expected, her husband started rubbing her gently. And it did feel awfully good.

Later she couldn't say how long she lay across his lap as he massaged, kneaded, and caressed her from her waist to her knees. The sensations grew stronger as he dug his knuckles in or gathered up her soft flesh. Then he began patting her softly, building up to firmer strokes. Yet even when she realized he'd crossed the line into spanking, she welcomed the feeling.

Moisture trickled between her legs. He must have noticed as well, because he started fingering her with his right hand while continuing to smack with the left. The slight stinging continued as she moaned and arched to meet him. Underneath, his hardness pressed up against her while he thrust two fingers inside. With a small cry she came.

"Your turn," she whispered, getting off his lap and kneeling beside him on the bed. Quickly she freed his cock, taking it in her mouth. He laid his hand on her backside, cupping it across the warmest part as she sucked him to climax.

They lay together on top of the quilt, too soaked in sweat to put on sleep tunics. Janys explored her rear end. Now the action had stopped, it felt tender and hot, and no doubt he'd turned it pink. Yet Martel had been right—what he'd done had been lovemaking, and she'd enjoyed every minute.

"How can that be?" she marveled. "I really hated the other times, but this—"

"Was different," he finished. "Because they were meant as punishments, and I have to make them hurt so you will not want to repeat the experience. This one was for pleasure, but a little pain at the right time can make it even better."

She licked her lips. "Do we have to wait until the next decedonner to do that again?"

They'd turned out the lights so she couldn't see his face, but she sensed his smiling back at her. "No, you can have a 'good wife' spanking any time you want. Just drape yourself across my lap and tell me your bottom needs attention."

Now she welcomed the dark so he couldn't see how red her face had gotten. Could she ever bring herself to do that? Of course with other men she'd often taken the first step towards sex, but never this way. She hadn't listened closely when Shalimerie spoke as though women liked the activity, feeling the others must just be pretending, but now she saw how it might be true. While her mind still reeled, the rest of her gave over to sleep.

The next days passed uneventfully, leaving Janet fine but bored. When someone knocked on her door shortly after Martel left one morning, she sprang to answer it. Even Elondelle would be a distraction from the silence.

Instead a rotund woman wearing a bright turquoise tunic smiled at her over large glasses. "Meisin," she announced holding out a chubby hand. "I must be at the school in ten minutes unless I want to mark myself tardy, but I wanted to stop by. Shalimerie said you might be interested in helping us out with the reading and literature classes."

"Well, yes." Barely had Janys gotten the words out when the school mistress dumped three books into her hands.

"These are what we have been using for textbooks. Of course our classes are so small you may have to teach from all of them, so I thought I should give you a head start. Can you join us the day after Planetfall?"

"I guess so." Janys looked dubiously at the stack. Her vision of teaching involved reading a favorite book to a circle of rapt children. Now it looked like she'd have everything from kids learning to write their name to older students preparing essays. Grades? Tests? This was going to be a lot more complicated than she'd thought.

"Good. We will start you part-time." The school mistress named an hourly rate more generous than Janys expected. "If it works out, we can expand your duties." Before she could say goodbye, Meisin's sturdy legs flew off towards the school.

Janys carried the textbooks into the living room and began looking at them. Within a few minutes, she wanted to give up. Even the materials for the youngest students contained Demetian references she didn't know, and she hadn't heard of most of the writers mentioned in the highest level class. "They'll end up teaching me," she confessed to Shalimerie when her friend dropped by to find out her plans for Master Rodogan's party.

. "The textbooks are the same as I used, so I can help you out with lesson plans for the little ones." The other woman rifled through one of the books. "Most of the stories are right here, so why not just start reading them?"

"Of course I can do that, but I think I should know more about the authors. For example, Master Dardannon." She pointed to a name in the Table of Contents. "It says in the biography section he wrote a novel considered the most important work of literature on the planet, yet it's never been published off world. I couldn't have read it if I wanted to."

"No, the Elders generally do not allow writings to be distributed outside our communities," Shalimerie acknowledged. "Sometimes they make an exception for those not involving our customs—Mistress Alexandrine published fairy tales—but if people want to write about their lives, the books stay here. But Rodogan should have a complete collection. At the party, you could ask him to borrow them."

"I guess I'll just have to plow through as much of this as I can before then." Although she'd spent many hours reading reports and gathering information, never before had Janys forced herself to read fiction. Yet she found herself enjoying the stories, and through them began absorbing different aspects of Borocovian life than she'd found doing sociological research.

The night of the party, Martel came home early from work. "Are you sure you can get your nose out of those books long enough to come with me?"

"Wouldn't miss it." While she still wasn't sure she felt up to meeting all of Wyteen society at once, she couldn't wait to acquaint herself with Rodogan's library.

"Then put on your best tunic and fix your hair."

"Shalimerie said she'd help me with it if we stopped by their house," Janys told him nonchalantly, trying not to betray her nervousness at making plans for them as a couple. Until now, she'd just followed Martel's lead. "Also if Alicitia decides to babysit for them instead of going herself, they'll walk over with us."

"Let us hope it works out so they can come along. I can introduce you to many people tonight, but Shalimerie knows the women better," he smiled, apparently pleased by her arrangements.

They arrived to hear Shalimerie shouting behind the door. She flung it open, revealing a gray-haired woman whose red face suggested she'd been doing her share of the yelling. "You know Master Martel," Shalimerie said tiredly. "This is his wife, Mistress Janys. Janys, Mistress Lollegan. My mother."

For the first time since she'd landed on Demeter, Janys found a person with absolutely no interest in her, either as an offworlder or person of notoriety. Instead Mistress Lollegan glared, apparently incensed they'd interrupted the argument. "Shalimerie!" she snapped.

"We will deal with this later, Mother. Right now I need to help Janys with her hair. Come." Shalimerie practically dragged her to the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.

"Is Chardontal here?" Janys asked cautiously.

"No. Kronitin whisked him away the second we raised our voices." The other woman began pulling combs out of drawers. "In some ways it is good my mother came for a visit, because Alicitia decided not to miss her first grown-up party, but I will have to wait for Kronitin to come back before we can attend."

"You're going to leave Chardontal with—" Janys fell silent. Being childless, she knew she didn't have the right to give advice, but she doubted she'd feel secure having Mistress Lollegan look after her son.

Shalimerie nodded. "She loves him deeply. I am the one who causes her problems. And Kronitin, whom she still will not speak to. But enough of that! Tonight should be a time of welcome for you! Let us see what we can do to make you even more beautiful."

She'd never understand how Shalimerie could coax hair into such smooth curves, held back by artfully placed combs. Finally her friend gave her permission to model the final result for Martel. "What do you think?"

"I think both of you ladies will outshine all others," he replied, giving Janys a quick kiss. She'd taken special care to wash and press his tunic. Although she hadn't viewed the entire male population of Wyteen, she knew no one could look more handsome than her husband.

"Do you have a hairbrush for touch-ups?" Shalimerie asked. Janys nodded and pointed to the new laniter belt. A cross between a purse and fanny pack worn sideways, it circled her waist under her tunic. Depending on her needs, she could keep it on, accessing it through a special divide on the tunic, or slip it off. Martel had bought it for her to celebrate her new freedom to roam around the community by herself.

"We will try to get there as soon as possible. In the meantime, be sparing with the mulled winnotal. Mistress Nilanerian uses a secret recipe, and too much will knock you on the floor." Shalimerie waved them down the path. From the look on Lollegan's face, Janys thought it unlikely the woman ever touched a drop of the stuff.

Although Janys wanted to ask about her friend's family troubles, she assumed Martel would just refer her back to Shalimerie. Instead they walked silently along the path, the night air cooler than before as the tilt of Demeter's axis lessened the impact of the suns. Although she could barely remember her Christmases on Earth, she'd always associated cold with holidays.

They came to a house much older even than the one Elondelle and Zellin owned, complete with an old-fashioned swing in the front yard. A beaming man with glasses on his nose threw open the door. "Our first guests! This must be Mistress Janys!" he boomed, giving her a hug. "Come in, my new friend!"

He whirled her over the threshold, setting her down in front of a willowy woman with short dark hair. "My wife, Mistress Nilanerian."

"Just call me Nila." Dark brown eyes sparkled at Janys over an impish smile reminding her of Shalimerie. "We've so glad you're here. Rod's been trying to start a book group for ages, but we couldn't get Martel to come."

"I had work to do," Martel protested. "Besides, you kept trying to make me read all those Earth novels from hundreds of years ago where the names change every few pages."

"What about you, Janys? How do you feel about Tolstoy? Dostoevsky?" The host grabbed her arm. "No, Martel told us you like mysteries. Raymond Chandler? Lawrence Block? Or Nogelxx 3-469 from Siri XII?"

"Some of the above," she laughed. "But right now I'm interested in catching up on Demetian writers."

"Got that too. Everything including—well, some lesser known folks." He dropped his eyes.

"Look at him, pretending to be modest." Nila rolled her eyes at Janys. "If by some miracle you managed to avoid seeing the five books on the center shelf, you probably couldn't miss the blow up of the review from—"

Rodogan lightly smacked her behind. "As I will not miss THIS with my cane tonight!" Nila threw her arms around his neck and planted a big kiss on his lips. He cupped her bottom and lifted her to him, then broke away. "Can you believe it?" he asked Martel. "Married over fifty decedonners, and I still have to spank her thoroughly almost every day."

She giggled, then caught Janys's arm. "Let's get you two something to drink before mean old Roddy starts threatening both of us with his toys."

"Who are you calling 'old'–" her husband grabbed for her, but a noise from down the path distracted him. "I will settle with you later!" he promised as Nila steered Janys and Martel towards the kitchen where a large pot simmered.

"Hot winnotal," the hostess announced. "Or if you prefer, as Rod says we have less 'potent potables'."

"We can both have one cup," Martel allowed. "But after that we will be switching to juice or water. Nila, you know how much I enjoy your recipe—"

"But caution is advisable. I know." She began ladling out the beverages.

Janys accepted the delicate earthenware, sipping its contents as Nila showed them the two food tables before resuming her role as a greeter. Although the Demetian delicacies looked wonderful, she decided to wait a while before eating as the drink warmed her.

As soon as Martel returned with his plate, she leaned over and whispered, "Nila's obviously an offworlder. She's still not picked up the formal way of talking."

"True." He crunched on an unknown vegetable. "Though Rodogan did so. But then his father was our last resident Ambassador from the Protectorate, and he lived here as a boy. He left with his family with the transition ended, and we doubted he would ever return. Yet one day he was back with a new bride and a shuttle full of books."

"Does she—fit in here?"

"Well enough, I suppose." As he considered the matter, others arrived, and Janys bent closer so they wouldn't be overheard. "No one sees much of either of them. She paints while he writes, and every few decedonners they spend time at the university teaching a few classes. Early on they had trouble with the Council over a punishment Rodogan refused to carry out, and my mother suspects they just play lip service to many of our customs."

"Really?" From the way Rodogan and Nila talked, Janys figured they'd embrace bibalons and everything else. "You mean he doesn't actually do anything to her?"

Her husband raised an eyebrow. "Yes, he certainly does. Before you decide to trade me for someone who can keep all those names straight, you should know I have seen her pretty little bottom blistered with a variety of things. I would be very surprised if we got through this evening without his demonstrating his latest acquisition. But from what I gather, she loves it as much as he does."

Janys shook her head as she drank down the last of the winnotal. Here she'd thought she'd found someone more like her than Shalimerie, but she couldn't begin to understand her new friend's attitude. "She loves being punished?"

"I doubt she ever gets punished," he told her matter-of-factly. "That was the problem they had with the Council. No, he spanks her hard and often, and sometimes she does protest or pretend to fight him, but except for that one time the Council ordered down in the square, they always seem to be enjoying themselves."

Janys had other questions, but the room started to fill with people, many looking vaguely familiar. She clasped hands with most, trying to remember each one. Except for tradespeople like Mistress Kelusia and Master Grelatik, many people she knew she'd have preferred to avoid, such as the various elders and Mistress Donawirt. Had their hosts invited all of Wyteen? Perhaps this was their annual effort to blend into the community.

Fortunately Mistress Meisin soon tracked her down. Seeing Janys would be in for a long discussion about textbooks and preliminary plans, Martel took the opportunity to chat with his friends in the trade office. By the time Meisin moved on to another person, Janys wasn't sure where her husband had gone. Nor had she seen Shalimerie or Kronitin arrive, though they might be somewhere in the chattering crowd.

As she started towards the kitchen to get a glass of water before finally sampling the food, she found her way blocked by a man with uncombed gray hair and beard. "Mistress Janys!" he greeted her with a mock bow that showed the effects of too much winnotal. "Our newest offworlder beauty, come to slay our hearts."

She recoiled from the sneer in his voice, veering from her destination to head towards the front door. Although Nila had vanished, Rodogan still claimed the vantage point. "Have you seen Martel?" she asked anxiously.

"I believe he is taking a stroll around the yard with a gentleman from his office," the host assured her. "Would now be a good time to look at my meager collection?"

"Absolutely." Yes, she use a break from all the strangers, especially the one who'd accosted her.

"Come this way." To her surprise, he led her outside, stepping off the porch onto the grass. They crossed the scraggly lawn to a building she'd taken to be the neighbor's house. Taking a key from his tunic, he opened the door for her. "These are the few things I have managed to put together with available finances."

Janys saw why Nila teased him about false modesty. While the arrangement of shelves would have filled only a niche in the Institute library, it was the largest private collection she'd ever seen. "It's amazing," she told him as she wandered about, breathing in the delightful odor of leather and paper.

She halted in front of the five volumes sitting primly between crystal bookends. As Nila predicted, they would have been hard to miss. The middle title seemed familiar, and she carefully pulled it out. "I read this one once. An Institute librarian downloaded it into my implant right before I went to Actinon. I remember being mad because he didn't include the first two books in the series. So you're Rod Egan?"

"Indeed," he smiled. "Though for my next book, my editor wants me to use 'Master Rodogan'. It will be a suspense novel set on Rydell where I met Nila, involving a romance between a dashing literature professor who lives to warm ladies' buns and the waif who delights in provoking him. As long as I never mention this planet or any of their peculiar disciplinary ideas, I should be able to sneak it past the Elders."

Janys laughed nervously. "Why Mistress Janys," he teased. "Are you going to tell me you now believe in all this mumbo jumbo about 'instanters' and 'forbinners' and writing everything down? Around here, we only have one rule: Whatever happens, Nila gets spanked."

She didn't want to insult a man who was doing everything he could to make her feel welcome, but she felt she had to know. "I can see how someone might like a spanking. But the cane? Isn't that incredibly painful?"

He crooked his finger at her and ambled past the shelves towards the end of the room. "I was going to point you down this way in case you want to sit for a while and look at the some of the books, but let me show you my other collection." Janys followed him to a section formed by the backs of bookcases. A comfortable leather chair and footrest dominated the space, but one glance around showed her the area got used for a lot more than just reading. From the walls to the canisters flanking the chair, she counted at least sixty canes and rods of varying sizes and lengths.

One lay across the stuffed arms of the chair. He picked it up, flexing it before swishing it through the air. "I will be trying out this newest one tonight on my favorite derriere. We have been looking for one that will deliver just the right amount of sting."

Janys found herself staring at the cane and all its companions in horror. "These all look like they'd do a whole lot more than just sting."

"Depends on the technique. And the position of the bottom. But most can be mild as well as severe." Rummaging in one of the canisters, he picked out a thick, black one. "Now this I would worry about. We stopped using it because it was hard to control, and I knew it could easily break skin. The Council asks for it sometimes for extreme forbinners." He dropped it back into the container.

"As to the others—" he shrugged. "Under other circumstances, I would show you what I mean. You would see how exquisite a well-applied cane can be. Of course if Martel would like to study the technique, or borrow any of these—"

"That's okay," she said hastily. "The books are more than enough."

He chuckled. "You may be surprised how your feelings will change the longer you stay here. Someday I will ask again Now I need to get back to the others, but take as much time as you want." His fingers closed on the end of the new cane. "Think I will take this along with me. With me out of sight for a while, Nila must have found a way to get into trouble."

Janys thanked him, then methodically started working her way through the sections of the library. He'd categorized everything first by planet of origin, then alphabetically by author. In a few minutes she located the Demetian collection and pulled out several possibilities. Maybe if she read several pages from each, she could make her final selection.

Although it gave her a slight quiver to sit down in the leather chair, she quickly forgot its other purpose as she leaned back and stretched out her legs. The first two novels didn't do much for her, but the third centered on a woman who'd abandoned her post with the Protectorate to live in Wyteen. Caught up in the story, she continued well into the first chapter.

When she heard the door open, she glanced up guiltily. Undoubtedly she'd gone far beyond the few minutes Rodogan expected her to stay in his special place. Gathering up her books, she stood up. "I was just coming back out," she announced.

The man who'd blocked her way to the kitchen now stood between her and the library door. "Mistress Janys," he mocked. "First you and Master Rodogan had your time together. Now who are you waiting for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Janys eyed her escape route. "I came in here to see the books. Now I want to go find my husband."

"My wife said that too. Said I did not know what I was talking about. All the time I saw the way they were together. Mister Patrick Johnson." He practically spit the words out. "Another beautiful offworlder."

What was he raving about? As he stepped closer, she wondered if she should grab one of the canes. But what would she do with it? None of them looked thick enough to knock someone out, or stiff enough to spear him. Plus despite his unsettling words, she couldn't assume he intended to harm her.

Still she needed some form of defense. She clutched the books more tightly against her chest. Could there be somebody outside in the yard? Would a shout carry that far through the walls? At least from the way his body swayed, she figured he'd had even more winnotal since their last encounter, giving her an advantage.

He licked his lips. "They look so good. Offworlders. All that medical and science stuff. She also said he tasted good. Now I want to know. Do all offworlders taste good?"

"I don't think so." She started inching towards him, keeping her back against the main shelves. If she could just get by him, she would beat him to the door.

"'I don't think so," he mimicked. "Do you know what I think, Mistress Janys? I think you should give me a taste from that pretty mouth of yours. Right "—he ran a finger slowly along his bottom lip—"here."

As he reached for her, she yelled "Catch!" and threw the books at him as hard as she could. His arms flew up overbalancing him so he fell down as she dashed to the door. Jerking it open, she ran out into the chill night air.

Apparently everyone had gone inside, as no one from the house peered out in the darkness to track down her cry. She stumbled up the porch and opened the door, her heart threatening to break loose from her chest. Where was Martel?

Her arrival went unnoticed by the partygoers, all who had gathered round something going on in the next room. As she drew closer, she heard the murmur of Rodogan's voice, followed by a female yelp and laugh… "See what a nice line that makes?" he announced to the group. "This one will go right below it—"

If this was their version of pin the tail on the donkey, she'd pass. Instead she turned and continued on to the kitchen. With shaking hands, Janys poured herself a large cup of steaming winnotal, gulping it down so quickly she burned her tongue. Refilling it, she drained it again, then carried a third glass towards the living room. By the time the crowd began breaking away, she'd started to calm down.

She kept one eye on the door, making sure her unwelcome visitor in the library couldn't creep up on her again. Probably he was still lying on the floor, sleeping off his intoxication. As her breathing slowed and heart rate returned to normal, Janys found the whole situation more distasteful than frightening. How many drunken embraces had she fended off on other occasions with no harm done? But Martel might not see it that way. If she told him, it might ruin the party, all because the host had been kind enough to show her the library.

"There you are!" Her husband maneuvered around Alicitia and her boyfriend who were still giggling together over the caning. "I was going to come fetch you from the library, but I figured you might prefer to miss this particular entertainment."

"But you watched it?"

"To be polite." He shrugged. "And to study the way Rodogan uses his wrist. There is a real art to caning, and—" he leaned over and sniffed at her cup. "Winnotal? But I told you we would both stop after one serving."

"I felt I needed it," she told him as he took the remainder away.

"No, what you need is to listen to me," he retorted. "Unless you have enough food with it—"

Suddenly the full impact of the drinks hit her. "I'm going to be sick," she mumbled, holding a hand over her mouth and running for the stairs. She'd seen other people coming down and assumed the bathroom would be at the top. Miraculously it was empty. Dashing in, she barely made it in time.

A few minutes later while she rinsed out her mouth, she heard a light tap on the door. "Janys?" Shalimerie inquired. "Are you all right?"

She opened the door. "We just got here," her friend said as she began running water over a guest towel. "Martel told us you had too much to drink, and sent me up here to help. And also to tell you to write down in your bibalon to receive twenty swats for each cup of winnotal beyond the first."

Janys used the wet cloth to wipe off her face as she sank down on a small chair by the vanity. "I didn't mean to drink anything more, it's just—". Quickly she relayed the events of the evening to Shalimerie.

The other woman took her arm. "But love, you must tell Martel! Right this minute!"

"Why? So he'll forget about the twenty swats?" She folded up the towel and hung it back on the rack. "If so, I'll explain to him later. I just don't want to cause any trouble for Rodogan and Nila."

"Forget about that," Shalimerie told her firmly. "Your marriage vows are much more important. Remember honesty? A wife who does not immediately let her husband know when another man makes overtures may be assumed to welcome them."

"But I didn't welcome them!" Janys's stomach still churned from the winnotal, and her head began to ache. "I don't even know the guy's name!"

"It sounds like Master Haraldo. Several decedonners ago, his wife ran off with a shuttle pilot, and it has been very difficult for him. But none of that makes any difference. Just let Martel know what happened and let him handle it…"

"All right." Crossly she stood up and followed the bobbing brunette head out of the bathroom. Halfway down the steps she realized from the number of people grimly looking up at her that something must have happened more dramatic than a guest making a run for the facilities.

Martel walked up the last few to take her arm, steering her past the others. As people moved out of the way, she saw Tadewidan standing in the middle of the room, Master Haraldo at his side with a red mark on his cheek.

Seeing her, the Elder turned. "Would you like to repeat what you said, sir, when Master Rodogan found you in the library?"

Haraldo bent a thumb towards Janys. "She threw books at me."

"And why, Master Haraldo, would Mistress Janys do such a thing?" Tadewidan's eyes bored into his prey.

The man scowled. "All I wanted to do was give her a little welcoming kiss. She took it the wrong way."

"I guess she did," the Elder told him drily. "And we can all see why. We will deal with this later, when you are no longer under the effects of winnotal. In the meantime, Elder Carolliton and I will escort you to your home so you can get some sleep."

He turned to Janys. "But first Mistress Janys, I wish to apologize for you on behalf of Wyteen that your first social gathering was marked in this fashion."

"It's okay," she muttered. "It was nothing."

"Still it must have been upsetting to you and your good husband," he murmured, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"I suppose." Desperately she searched for a way to end the dialogue.

"One thing I find surprising," Tadewidan continued. "Master Martel, I would have thought you would have gone immediately to the library to confront Master Haraldo. Did you not ask your wife where to find him?"

As Martel's eyes darted frantically, Janys realized his quandary. Either he'd have to lie to the Elder or admit she hadn't told him about her problem. Were there penalties for husbands who failed to defend their wives' honor? If so, she couldn't let him be exposed. "He didn't know," she interjected. "I hadn't gotten around to telling him."

"Really?" The voices around them increased in volume as Tadewidan looked like a snake searching for the proper place to strike. "When were you planning to make your report? Before more books got thrown by the next person Master Haraldo tried to assault?"

"He seemed to be targeting me because I was an offworlder," she parried. "I didn't think anyone else was in danger."

"Not even another offworlder?" Tadewidan took a long look around. "You may be our most recent arrival, but there are many here who came from other places. Our hostess, Mistress Nila. Your esteemed mother-in-law. Mistress Plettigan."

"I didn't think he'd go after them."

"Probably not," he countered. "Because you believe Master Haraldo bestowed his unwanted attentions not because you are a new arrival, but because he found you attractive."

Now the Elder had her boxed in. If she insisted Haraldo had been going after all offworlders, she should have warned the others. If he'd fixated on her, she needed to tell her husband. "Okay, it didn't seem like that big a deal, but I guess I should have said something." She held up her hands. "Mea culpa. Next time I'll go running to Martel every time a man looks cross-eyed at me."

Someone poked her in the side. "Janys, stop talking. This is not helping," Shalimerie whispered in her ear.

Tadewidan looked at Martel. "You know what must be done."

Her husband wet his lips. "I will take her home as well—"

"No," the other man cut him off. "Do it here in the presence of others. Can I trust you to carry it out while we get Master Haraldo out of here?"

"Yes," Martel answered shortly. Gripping Janys's hand, he began pulling her towards the room where Rodogan caned his wife.

Their host materialized before them. "Martel, if you need to use anything we have—"

"I believe not," her husband replied… "The hairbrush Janys has in her laniter will serve quite well."

Something hard and cold gripped her chest. "What do you mean?"

He regarded her sadly. "I think you know. Please give it to me now, and with a few minutes over my knee we will take care of this matter."

"Wait a minute!" As firmly as she could, she planted her feet on the floor. "There's no way I'm going to let you do that to me in front of everybody!"

"I am sorry, but it has to be this way." People cleared away in front of them as he steered her towards the sofa at the end of the room.

"Like hell it does!" Wrenching away, she tried to get to the door, but Rodogan stepped in front of her, grabbing her shoulders. "Let me go!"

"Sorry, my dear, but we need you to stay." Without breaking stride he turned her around while Martel put his arms on her waist. Despite her struggle, the two men forced her towards the couch.

Her husband sat down heavily, overbalancing her. She landed hard across his lap, her breath knocked out. Before she could recover, Rodogan shifted around to the side of the couch where he held her hands tightly stretched out above her head… On the other side, someone latched on to her ankles. Martel fumbled with the laniter, easily extracting the wooden brush. A few seconds later he jerked up her tunic, then slid down her prander.

She knew how she must look to the other guests stretched out along the couch, anchored at both ends while her bare bottom tilted to receive its punishment. Glaring up at Rodogan, she clenched her teeth. "I hate you! Both of you!"

Rodogan flipped his hands under hers so their palms lay together. "I am very sorry to hear that my dear, because I want to help you get through this. During the more painful moments, Nila sometimes likes to hold onto to someone else. "

Janys deliberately relaxed her fingers. "I don't need to hold onto any–". The hairbrush cracked down across her left cheek. Automatically she squeezed Rodogan's hands as hard as she could. "Damn it!" The wood bit again on the same spot as she gasped.

By the tenth smack, Janys gripped Rodogan as though her life depended on it. Compared to the marital paddle, the hairbrush seemed small and benign, but it stung her fanny like a large wooden insect. Soon she began sobbing from pain and humiliation.

"Martel." Shalimerie's low voice cut through the loud smacks as the brush impacted her skin. "Perhaps Janys did not fully understand the significance of the situation."

"I appreciate that, Shalimerie," he replied, never letting up on the pace. "And I agree. The matter involving him would have concluded some time ago. But I have to teach her not to resist punishment, even if she does not consider it justified. Most of all, I want to be sure when something happens to her like this, she tells me."

Something like this. Janys's thoughts strayed from a moment from the status of her hind end to the Professor's visit. Haraldo just threatened to kiss her, but the Professor had succeeded. Tonight she might have been confused by unknown expectations, but she knew she should have confessed to Martel what transpired with her former lover. Although she hadn't been able to make herself ask for venatin, maybe she could accept this current spanking as such. Almost immediately her tears of anger and embarrassment transformed to contrition as she cried even harder.

By the time Martel put down the brush, she'd stopped resenting him, and even managed to give Rodogan a weak smile as he drew his hands away. However her attitude almost flipped again when their host nodded towards the corner. "If you want to go the traditional route—"

"Yes, some display would be appropriate." Her husband cupped his hand under her chin, forcing him to look up at him. "Janys, I want you to hold your tunic up, but not touch anything else. Walk over and stand there with the tunic above your waist until I give you permission to rearrange your clothes."

"Please don't make me—" she began.

"Janys," he replied firmly. "You know what happens when you disobey. Now you can choose between getting into the corner right now as I instructed, or first spending more time with the hairbrush."

Scooting off his lap, Janys awkwardly stood up, trying to retain some vestige of dignity. With the prander down below her knees, she wobbled towards her destination, painfully aware that both sets of her cheeks blazed scarlet. As soon as she faced the plain walls, she began crying again.

Voices drew softer as the crowd mercifully dispersed. A few minutes later, she felt someone rustling behind her. Some guest wanting a closer look at the target area? She closed her eyes and tried to will the person away.

"Janys," Shalimerie whispered. "I am so sorry all of this happened… The next gathering will be so much better."

"Next one?" Janys badly wanted to turn around and laugh at her friend, but she suspected she'd face severe consequences. "I'm never going to another party again even if I die of old age here."

"I know you feel upset now—"

"Well, yes, considering everyone I might ever hope to know in this damned community just saw me get my tail whipped." She laughed bitterly. "How could any of them ever respect me after that?"

"Easily. More easily, love, than you can imagine." Shalimerie spoke slowly and calmly. "At one time or another, almost everyone has been spanked in public."

"You mean like Nila and the cane? Forgive me if I don't consider that the same thing."

Shalimerie didn't answer for a moment. "Nila sees things differently than most of us. To her our customs are fun—a way for her and her husband to play their games with the blessing of everyone else. She loves Rodogan to treat her that way, which makes it difficult for some people here to understand her."

"Put me on that list. I can't begin to understand why someone would volunteer to be humiliated this way." She dropped her voice even lower. "Is there anyone else around?"

"No, Rodogan took them outside for the lightning play. He regretted you would miss it, but felt you would prefer the solitude."

Lightning play. Considering the fireworks already played out on her behind, Janys didn't mind missing the celestial show. She took advantage of the opportunity to surreptitiously swipe her eyes. "Look, I know you're trying to make me feel better, but you really don't believe I could ever walk into a room again filled with people who've seen me held down and howling—"

"It happens," her friend insisted. "No one will ever bring it up—"

"Or if they do, it won't matter, because I won't be here to listen to it." Janys gave her tunic an angry tug. "Sorry but I don't believe anyone who went through this horror would ever let themselves be seen in public again."

"Then I will have to prove it to you," Shalimerie sighed. "In just a few moments, when they come back—"

"Shalimerie!" Kronitin's voice echoed through the room. "Is Janys talking to you during display?"

Her friend paused, then muttered, "I suppose this will be as good a way as any," before raising her voice. "No, but I am talking to her. I am apologizing to her for the treatment she has been given tonight. Not one of us warned her about Haraldo, or paid attention when he became drunk again as he has other times with the last few decedonners."

"Shalimerie," her husband spoke softly and urgently. "We can discuss later what you should receive for breaking display silence. But come outside with me before others hear—"

"Hear what?" she responded, increasing her volume. "Hear what I think of other people being hypocritical? Haraldo has been on a rampage since his Mistress eloped. Have any others been punished for failing to report his inappropriate behavior?"

"What do we have here?" Janys's heart sank as she realized Tadewidan had rejoined the party. "Master Kronitin, would you care to explain?"

"No, but I will." Although she stayed facing the wall, Janys could imagine her friend flouncing across the room. "You and the rest of the Elders knew Haraldo had gotten out of line, but you turned away because you felt sorry for him. But let a woman, especially an offworlder do the same thing, and you order her husband to publicly humiliate her—"

"Enough!" From the rising background noise, Janys figured they again had an audience. "Master Kronitin, it appears Mistress Shalimerie could benefit from a dose of what Mistress Janys received. Pray use the hairbrush lying there on the couch to restore her to her normal attitude."

"Shalimerie," Kronitin joined in, his voice brittle. "Fetch the hairbrush, and we will go upstairs."

"No, if you want to spank me for speaking my mind, you will have to do so right here." It sounded like she stomped her foot. "And because I do not deserve it one little bit, I will not cooperate with you."

"We can take of that," Tadewidan said quietly. Shalimerie squealed as Janys felt a group driving towards the couch.

Consequences or not, Janys whirled around. "Stop it! You can't punish her! She's just trying to make me feel better—" Within seconds Martel materialized behind her and turned her back towards the wall while delivering ten hard smacks on her buttocks.

Although she couldn't see, she had no problem imagining the next few minutes. Suddenly the first rhythmic slap rang out along with Shalimerie's reaction. Although the other woman started out more quietly than Janys, she grew louder as the process continued until Janys began crying with her.

Finally it stopped, and Shalimerie stepped beside her in the corner, her face still dripping tears. "Why—" Janys started, but her friend shook her head. They stood silently for what seemed like forever as the party mingled and mixed behind them.

Two hands touched their respective shoulders. "We can go now," Martel told Janys, as Kronitin murmured the same to his wife.

Janys started shaking. "How can we go out there—"

"Like this, love," Shalimerie interrupted. Taking out a piece of cloth from her laniter, she offered it first to Janys, then mopped her own cheeks. "We go as if this never happened, holding the arms of our husbands. If Tadewidan is still here, we say good night to him politely, and we thank our host. Then whether it will be another decedonner, or four, or the full ten before we celebrate again, we come back proudly."

Can I really do this? Although Janys wanted to run the other way, she let her friend lead her through the gathering, stopping along the way for nods and goodbyes. To her amazement, no one stared at her behind or paid any attention to her tear-streaked face. In fact, most seemed to greet her even more warmly than when she'd first arrived.

Rodogan and Nila waited at the door. "I believe you have some books to retrieve before we go home," Martel told her huskily. Janys nodded, letting him take her hand.

"We'll walk with you," Nila smiled. Skillfully the others maneuvered Janys and Shalimerie away from the other guests.

"I put them on the table," Rodogan pointed out as they stepped through the library door. Janys hurried over and picked up the one that intrigued her. A quick examination failed to reveal any bent pages from their use as missiles. "Good choice—I look forward to your thoughts. You will be back soon?"

Janys looked over at Shalimerie, whose hair had fallen into an uncharacteristic disarrangement. Thanks to her sacrifice, she no longer felt she'd been thrown out of their society before ever joining it. "Yes, I will."

"Good." Rodogan said nothing more other than to wish them a joyful Planetfall. Yet when his hands clasped hers goodbye, she remembered her time on the couch. The pain became more bearable when she'd held his hands, just as Martel's arm around her now made the emotional sting fade.

Yet would she ever be like Shalimerie? Deliberately provoking a punishment to help a friend? Or stranger yet, Nila, gleefully accepting Rodogan's ministrations.

With the head rolling with images from the party, Janys didn't notice the uncharacteristic silence among the other three until Kronitin stopped at the point they would normally have turned towards his house. "Martel, does the offer still stand?"

"Yes," he replied. "Janys and I will walk down by the stream for a while so you may have privacy."

In the starlight, she saw Shalimerie shiver as Kronitin reached in under his tunic. An object Janys knew from her reading to be a riding crop glinted in the starlight. Holding it in one hand, he took Shalimerie's hand with the other and started towards Martel's cottage.

"What are they doing?" Janys took a step towards the departing couple. "He's not going to—"

"Yes, he is." Martel tried to pull her in the opposite direction. "We discussed it while both of you were on display. He needs to settle with her tonight about her conduct with Tadewidan, but he did not want to do it with her mother in the house. So I told him if Rodegan could lend him something suitable, he could use the cottage."

"But that's not fair!" she exploded, wrenching away. By cutting through a small patch of trees, she managed to land in front of Kronitin. "You've already punished her once tonight, and she didn't do anything other than try and make things better for me."

"I know what she was trying to do." He tightened his grip on Shalimerie's hand. "But it is never smart nor safe to bait an Elder. Both of you should learn that before you end up on the whipping block."

"Then Martel should be correcting me instead. I'm the one that started it. How could she bear knowing Shalimerie would be going through hell again on her behalf? The words burst out before she fully understood what she was saying. "Instead let him use that thing on me while you two go home."

The two men exchanged glances as Shalimerie stepped towards her. "Never mind, love. I can take more than you can, and—"

"But it's not right," Janys insisted, training her eyes on Martel. "Please don't make me responsible for her being hurt anymore."

For the first time, Kronitin looked at her without wariness or distrust. "You would take her punishment?"

"Yes," she got out, more shakily than she intended. Don't think about the riding crop. Just do what you need to so you don't have this on your conscience as well.

"Well," he began thoughtfully. "I believe my wife still needs a few strokes to remind her not to talk back to the Elders. But I intended to give her fifty. If you would be willing to take half of those from my brother—"

"I will," she promised, feeling faint. Martel nodded.

"Then let all four of us proceed."

Later Janys would wonder how she walked the rest of the way home. Mercifully the details blurred, though she remembered being asked to kneel by Shalimerie on the couch, holding up her tunic as she leaned over the back. The rustle of cloth as their undergarments once more gathered around their knees. The swish of air as Kronitin took the first swing, and Shalimerie's sharp cry. The line of fire across her own backside as Martel took control of the crop. The alternation of sounds and sensations as the brothers delivered their respective twenty-five strokes, all the while telling them over and over to watch their mouths around the Elders.

Afterwards the good byes went on forever, accompanied by more tears. Even Kronitin hugged her fiercely, murmuring "Good night, sister" into her ear. Could this really have become her family? For once the idea didn't seem ridiculous.

As soon as they were alone, Martel began covering her face with kisses. "Janys, despite everything happened, you made me very proud tonight. Are you going to be all right?"

"Well, I don't think I'll be sitting down again until Planetfall, but—"

As she folded herself into her husband's arms, she knew she would definitely be all right.