Keith was surprised to find himself more intrigued than anything else
at the scene through the observation room window. What she'd called
the third-stage room resembled, more than anything else the young
Sandeman could think of, was a museum exhibit of a twentieth-century
operating room he'd seen once, with cabinets of supplies and equipment,
monitoring machinery, even a surgical table. But operating rooms
didn't have chains hanging from the ceiling, and patients weren't held
spreadeagled, naked, between those and eyebolts in the floor--and he'd
had no particular feeling toward the doctor in the display, where he'd
developed a strong fondness for the Inquisitor.
A couple of minutes after they entered, Odeon glanced toward the
observation room, raised a hand in acknowledgement, and said something
to Cortin. She turned toward them. "Colonel Bradford?"
"Yes," Bradford said, "with Ranger Medart and Lt. DarElwyn."
"If you'd care to, you're welcome to join me in here."
"Thank you, Excellency." Bradford switched off the intercom and turned
to the others, looking surprised. "That's a first; she doesn't
normally allow anyone in there except Captain Odeon or other
Inquisitors. The disadvantage is that you can't avoid her prisoner's
screams by shutting off the intercom."
"Even so," Medart said thoughtfully, "if an invitation's that rare, we
ought to accept."
The three entered the larger room, which smelled of antiseptic--rather
to Keith's surprise. Why should Her Excellency care about infection in
people she was torturing to death? He might ask her later, if it
looked like she wouldn't mind discussing her work.
"The interview went all right?" Cortin asked.
"Quite well," Bradford replied. "I'll get the operation moving as soon
as I get back to my office."
"Good--thanks, both of you." Cortin turned back to her prisoner, still
addressing the observers. "This one's nothing special, except in the
number of his crimes and the fact that he wanted witnesses until he got
to the last victim in each series. It was the rapes that were his
particular thrill; the murders were enjoyable, but more of a side
effect. So I'll be concentrating on the punishment for rape."
Keith watched attentively. These were the preliminaries, obviously,
but he was interested in anything and everything she did. It was
several hours before she was satisfied with the prisoner's general
condition: his entire body except the genital region so bruised or
abraded that even a light touch brough curses--and by that time, Keith
was admitting to himself that what he felt for her was more than
fondness.
Cortin stepped back to survey her prisoner, then smiled at her
audience. "That takes care of the preliminaries; now we can get to the
real punishment." She went to a cabinet, removed a vial and syringe.
"This is eroticine," she said, forcing the liquid in the vial down her
prisoner's throat. "In small doses, it's a male aphrodisiac. In
larger ones, like this, it forces an erection and increases semen
production by several hundred percent. He has no way to stimulate
orgasm, so that is forced out by simple hydraulic pressure--quite
uncomfortable, I've been assured. This dose is oral, so he'll be that
way for about twelve hours." She picked up a syringe, cleared it of
air. "And this is algetin, a pain-enhancer that's most effective on
swollen tissue such as an erection. It's a combination I think
particularly appropriate for a rapist."
"An intriguing combination," Keith said. It sounded rather like a
peculiar form of induced need, with no intent of release--and he had to
agree with the Inquisitor; it did seem appropriate for a rapist. That
reaction made Keith more than a little surprised at himself. Since
this was a punishment situation, the prisoner's nudity hadn't bothered
him; that was a normal part of punishment for serious violations of
custom at home. But that didn't include sexual arousal, even
drug-induced. He should have been seriously embarrassed, to the point
of having to leave; instead, he found himself intrigued by the
phenomenon as the man's erection firmed and grew moist. "Is that
wetness normal, or is it a drug effect?" he asked curiously.
Cortin glanced at him. "Neither, Lieutenant; it's a side effect of the
satyr plague."
"I see." Keith continued watching, pleased by the prisoner's
increasing discomfort, his moans and small spasms as semen began
oozing. "You said he can't bring himself to climax, Excellency, and
this does seem effective--but what would happen if he did? Would it be
a temporary relief, or would the algetin make it as much an agony as it
usually is a pleasure?"
After several seconds, Cortin said thoughtfully, "We're cautioned
against it in training, since it's presumed orgasm would bring relief;
if anyone had experimented and found otherwise, it should've been
reported in the professional literature. Since I've never read about
such an experiment, I doubt it's ever been tried--but now that you
suggest it, the idea seems plausible. If you'd like to try,
Lieutenant, be my guest."
"No," Medart said firmly. "He can observe, since this is within your
law; taking part would go against a number of the laws that govern the
Imperial military." He turned to the Sandeman. "What's wrong,
Lieutenant? You're not acting like any warrior I've ever
met--including yourself, a couple of days ago."
"I feel fine, sir--I'm just not embarrassed by his display, the way I'd
have expected, and I . . . admire Colonel Cortin's work, which I
wouldn't have expected at all." And herself, to an even greater
degree . . .
"Just how strong is this admiration, Lieutenant?"
Keith looked from Ranger to Inquisitor and back, certain his expression
was answering Medart's question before he spoke. "Strongly enough that
if I thought there was any chance of acceptance, I would offer her my
fealty."
Cortin looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled. "If that means what I
believe it does, Lieutenant, you'd be in no danger of refusal."
Keith returned the smile, feeling a blast of elation, then acted on her
promise and knelt. "Colonel Joan Cortin, I wish you as my chosen lady,
if that should be your will. I offer all that is in me to give: body
and mind, will and honor, whatever courage is mine. And death itself
may not deny the service I offer, in whatever afterlife is to come."
She extended her hands, smiling again. "I accept your service and
yourself with thanks, warrior."
Keith took her hands and rose, wishing he could display his elation,
but that would be improper with others around. Instead, he bowed to
her. "You do me great honor, Thakur."
"The honor is mine," Cortin replied. "Are there any formalities that
need to be taken care of?"
"I'll handle those when we finish here," Medart said. "His release
from service, back pay and allowances--but it'll be up to you to notify
his clan and make arrangements for his tattoo."
"When we're done here, as you say." Cortin turned to her new sworn
man. "To give you a status recognized here, I'm commissioning you a
Royal Enforcement Service officer. Now, would you like to test your
theory?"
"Very much, Thakur." Keith paused, then continued apologetically.
"I'm afraid I don't know how, though. One of our strongest customs
forbids any same-sex physical intimacy. Since it seems yours doesn't,
that no longer applies to me, of course--but the fact remains that I
have no such experience."
Cortin chuckled. "That can be remedied easily enough, if you decide
you want to, but for your present purposes you don't need experience.
All you have to do is take hold of him, snugly enough to provide a
friction surface but not tight. The eroticine will make him take care
of the rest."
"That sounds simple enough." Keith reached for the prisoner.
He grasped slippery flesh, pleased when the man winced and tried to
pull away. That should be a good sign. He followed the flinch,
keeping the snug hold his thakur had recommended--and she was right,
the prisoner began pumping, almost immediately accompanied by cursing
and moans. For a bit, Keith remained still, getting used to the feel
and rhythm. This was all he had to do, she'd said, and Keith was sure
it would have the desired effect--but she wanted the man to suffer as
much as a human could. Sure that there had to be a way to elicit more
pain on the way to its peak, he tried modifying his grip, going with
the prisoner's movements, kneading gently at the end of each thrust.
He was rewarded when moans grew louder and curses became incoherent
cries. He wanted to turn, see if his thakur was pleased, but he didn't
allow himself the distraction, contenting himself instead with a brief
smile. He was surprised at the ease with which he'd been able to make
even this sort of sexual contact with another man, but his primary
emotion on that subject was gratitude; since his thakur clearly had no
objection to man-loving, even seemed to actively approve, he had to do
so as well, and it was kind of the gods to make such a drastic change
so easy for him.
He was less surprised, though still a bit so, by his unexpected
enjoyment of a painmaster's role, since Sandeman did have some
circumstances where such was appropriate, though it had no
professionals. That was a fortunate turn, since it saved him another
adaptation--though if he were to serve his thakur properly in this
capacity, he really ought to get some training; a true painmaster
should be getting at least some screams by this time.
The prisoner's movements became faster, more urgent, and Keith smiled
again. A few more seconds . . . yes, good! The prisoner convulsed,
thrashing as wildly as his bonds would permit, but warrior reflexes let
Keith keep his grip while the man climaxed in a prolonged series of
spasms, his screams eloquent testimony to his agony. Keith felt a
sense of accomplishment at that, a deep pleasure that didn't end even
when the climax was over, the flesh in his hands softened slightly, and
the prisoner sagged, going limp but kept from fainting by the algetin.