Savages Recruit (6 page)

Chapter Four

Once Zora proved her abilities beyond all shadow of a doubt, things began to happen. Her first days had been spent bored out of her mind in detox, but with the early challenges cleared, Savage informed her that she was expected to work.

She assumed that meant she was finally going to get to do whatever it was that they had yanked her out of her life to do, so the news was somewhat welcome. Hopefully she could get the job done and go home. As nice as the room she'd been assigned was, it wasn't the same as her own apartment that she was free to come and go from as she pleased.

Early one morning Savage roused her from bed and brought her back down to the C levels. Level 3-C turned out to be a large room filled with computers. There were several military personnel at work, but she didn't have a chance to see what they were working on, the moment she tried to see what was on their screens she was tugged onwards to a far corner that was empty save for one eccentric figure.

“Zora this is Ethan. He's in charge of communications and intelligence for our team,” Savage said by way of introduction. Ethan was reclining with an outrageously nonsensical pair of sunglasses on his head, wearing a psychedelic tie dyed shirt apparently designed to make him stick out like a sore thumb. His long beard had been parted in twain and fixed at the ends with colored beads. It was almost enough to make him look older than he really was, but his clear rosy cheeks showed that he couldn't have been any older than his mid twenties.

“Nice shirt,” Zora smiled.

“Thanks,” Ethan grinned.

“Ethan is going to give you a crash course in systems and codes. Pay attention,” Savage ordered in no nonsense tones.

“Righto,” Zora pretended to be amicable. When Savage left she sighed and slumped down in her chair. “That guy is such a fucking hard ass.”

“You get that around here,” Ethan agreed sympathetically. He held out his box of candy cigarettes. “Smoke?”

Zora took one with a smile. “So they don't let you smoke here?”

“They do not,” Ethan confirmed.

“Don't let you drink either I guess.”

“Well, not officially,” Ethan looked around shiftily, then reached under his desk and pulled out a hip flask. He handed it to Zora, who unscrewed it and took a tentative sniff. The aroma that rose from the flask was a heavenly blend of sherry aromas mixed with something darker.

“What is this?”

The reply came in lowered, secretive tones. “Home brewed bourbon.”

“Nice,” Zora purred appreciatively. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Ethan winked. “Just don't get caught.”

Zora sipped at the brew and found it just as delicious as it smelled. Almost immediately the warming sensation in her stomach made her feel at ease and she tool a long draught. “Oh god I needed that,” she sighed happily as the fire water ran through her veins, restoring some of her lost sense of normality.

Ethan slid the flask back into its hiding place. “More later, lets run over the codes first, okay?”

The taste had made Zora yearn for more, but she agreed. It wouldn't do for Savage to discover that she hadn't done anything all morning. God only knew what kind of punishment he'd dole out then. She applied herself to learning the codes with as much enthusiasm as she could possibly muster under the circumstances. They were easy enough, but there were a lot of them. Fortunately for Zora, her memory had not been affected by the small amount of alcohol in her system and she had no trouble learning them quickly. Numbers had always come more easily than spoken language to her.

“Impressive,” Ethan said when they ran through them a few minutes later.

“That's how I got here,” Zora shrugged. “I'm good with numbers.”

“Yeah I know, I saw your video online and showed it to Savage...” Ethan trailed off as Zora's expression became suddenly vicious.

“So this is your fault,” she said accusingly. “You're the reason I'm here.”

“Technically the Bulgarians are the reason you're here,” Ethan argued in his defense.

“What?” Zora frowned. “What Bulgarians?”

Ethan clammed up quickly, clearly aware that he'd put not one, but both of his feet in his mouth. “You should ask Savage,” he said, turning back to the computer and tapping away at it as if there was something terribly important he suddenly needed to do.

“Maybe later,” Zora growled. Her good mood had dissipated almost entirely. She was so tired of the secrets. All she wanted to do was drink. The little taste she'd had before hadn't sated her desire for a drink, it had only whetted it. Without the slightest compunction she reached under the desk and swiped Ethan's flask.

“Hey! That's mine,” Ethan protested.

She shrugged. “I'm sure there's more where this came from, right?”

“Well yeah, but...”

“But nothing. You got me stuck in this place. I reckon this is the least you can do for me,” Zora said, slipping the flask into her pocket.

“Be careful with it,” Ethan warned her, quickly giving up on any chance of getting the flask back.

“Don't worry about me, just try not to tell on me if Savage comes by, okay?” With a smirk set on her features, Zora headed out of the data center and back towards her room. She looked over her shoulder the whole way, half expecting Savage to pop out somewhere, but she managed to get back to the sanctuary of her private room without running into anyone at all. The compound was vast and there were far more places in it than there were people to be in them.

Taking the precaution of slipping into the en suite, Zora sat on the toilet, uncapped the flask and drank deeply. It burned as it went down, but it burned so good. She downed half the vessel before she started to feel a little bit queasy and hid the rest of it behind the toilet cistern.

Standing up was an interesting affair. The alcohol that had been pooling somewhere in her legs went straight to her head. It had been a while since she'd had a drink and the brew was strong, real strong. She stumbled out of the bathroom and crashed onto the bed on her back, giggling to herself. Now this was a good time and a damn good buzz. Determined to enjoy the brief moment of levity, Zora quickly lost herself in the twin pleasures of watching television and eating anything that came to hand.

Later on, the door of her room opened. She had no idea when it was precisely, at some point she'd fallen asleep amidst crumbs and when she woke up it was only because she was being shaken awake by Savage. “Zora, are you okay?” His expression was one of pure concern, until she stirred, then he sniffed and his demeanor changed instantly. “You're drunk.”

“Yup,” Zora giggled gleefully, stretching as she returned to consciousness. There was nothing better than waking up and still being a little bit buzzed. It was like a bonus from the alcohol fairy.

Savage frowned furiously. “How?”

“That's for me to know and you to find out,” Zora taunted him. She watched him glower all the more at her flippant response. “I can almost see the smoke coming out of your ears,” she laughed.

“Smoke is going to be rising off your backside before this is over,” he promised.

“Go ahead,” Zora lurched her hindquarters off the bed and gyrated her hips at him. “Spank me all you want, big boy,” she slurred.

He looked at her with something like disgust. “Not whilst you're like this. You won't feel it. Later, when you feel every lash.”

“Lash? Gonna spank me with your eyes?”

“With a tawse,” he informed her, folding his arms over his chest as he spoke. His jaw was clenched so tight she was surprised he could speak at all.

“What's a toorrsee?” Zora giggled as she formed the strange word with her mouth.

“You'll know the answer to that soon enough,” he said grimly, looking around the room.

“You're such a downer,” Zora sighed, dropping her hips down to the bed. “I did what you wanted me to do.”

“I wanted you to learn code, not drink yourself stupid.”

Zora rolled over on her back and began spewing lines of code towards the ceiling. When she was done, she looked over at Savage with a triumphant grin. “You mean that code? That code I totally know?”

He didn't reply, but that didn't bother her, she just pointed her finger at herself. “You know who... you know what I am?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he responded to her question. “What or who are you?”

“A drunken master. Like Bruce Lee.”

“No,” he shook his head emphatically. “You're a drunken brat and I'm going to tear strips off your hide when you sober up.”

“You can't be angry at me. I did what you wanted!” Zora protested.

“This is not what I wanted,” Savage said as he walked over to her drawers. She wondered what he was doing until he pulled the top drawer out and dumped the contents onto the bed next to her. Her panties cascaded onto the coverlet, followed by tops, then pants. When he didn't find the alcohol in any of the dresser drawers, he opened the wardrobe and pulled everything out of there too. He had an expression of stern determination on his face that Zora found rather amusing. She should have been scared, but she was enjoying the thrill of playing cat and mouse far too much to truly care.

“Off the bed,” he ordered curtly. She didn't move fast enough and was forced to scramble when he picked the side of it up and turned it over. In an instant Zora's clothing and sheets were tossed into a large jumble on the floor.

In short order all the cupboards were emptied, the television had been switched off and removed from the wall, the fridge had been pulled away from its slot in the counter and checked. Zora slid down the wall and sat on the ground, watching him silently as he tore her room apart. With every failed attempt to find the source of the alcohol, he grew more irritated. Finally he went into the en suite and she heard the sound of the top of the toilet being removed. Then all went silent until he re-entered the room holding the flask. “Always the last place you look, huh?” Zora tried a lame attempt at humor, but it failed miserably. In the aftermath of her rude awakening her buzz was almost completely gone, leaving her feeling cold and concerned.

“Where did you get this?” He snapped the question.

Zora shook her head. “I'm not telling.”

“You will,” he growled, striding over to her. She cowered away when he reached for her, but he didn't hit her, he simply grasped her upper arm and guided her up to her feet. “Back to detox for you.”

Minutes later, Zora found herself alone and locked away in the same dull white room she'd occupied when she first arrived at the compound. “This is not good,” she said to herself as she sat down on the thin mattress, fighting a wave of nerve induced nausea. Savage had been livid, no he had been more than livid, he had been super furious. He'd hardly spoken a word to her, but his silence had held a heavy menace. Zora's attempts to sleep her anxieties away failed miserably and she spent a long night tossing and turning uncomfortably.

The next morning, Savage arrived looking thoroughly merciless as he stepped through the door clad in a black t shirt that clung to his muscular frame and black tactical pants. In his hand he held what looked like a leather strap with a wooden handle. Nursing a hangover, Zora groaned when she saw it. She was sitting cross-legged on the middle of the bed, her head in her hands. She covered her eyes when she saw his stern face and the implement he'd threatened her with. He didn't look angry anymore, he just looked determined. For some reason, determination scared her more than anger. “You're going to beat me now?”

“Spank, not beat,” he corrected her. “You know why, don't you?”

“Yeah,” she groaned, burying her face further in her hands.

His voice was calm, but firm. “Tell me.”

Flushing with embarrassment at having to recount her crimes, Zora muttered as quickly as possible. “Because I got drunk.”

“And because you wouldn't tell me where you got the alcohol from.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “That's not fair.”

He sat on the end of the bed, the tawse held casually in one hand, the other hand resting on his knee. “Why not?”

“Because I'm not going to get someone else in trouble because of something dumb I did. It's not their fault.”

He considered her answer for all of a millisecond before dismissing it. “That's admirable, but defying me is going to earn you more punishment,” he said briskly. “Let's get this started. Stand up please, Ms Matthews.” She stood up. She didn't want to stand up, but she also didn't want to be accused of further defiance. “Good,” he nodded. “Now lower your pants and put yourself over my knee.”

Zora gawked at the very idea of meekly pulling her pants down so that he could thrash her. Her mouth opened and shut wordlessly as she tried to work out a way of the situation. His dark eyes bored into hers. “Now,  Ms Matthews.”

She broke out into a cold sweat and shook her head. “I can't,” she squeaked.

“You can.”

“No, I can't.” Her voice held a note of panic and her hands began to tremble. It was one thing to be pulled over his lap, to be a passive recipient of his discipline, but quite another to participate in it herself. He was demanding something she couldn't give.

“You can, Zora.” He spoke softly. It was not what she expected, she expected him to start barking orders at her. It would have been east to resist shouting, easy to grow aggressive in response, but he seemed to know that.

“I don't want to get hit,” she whimpered, looking down at her feet as her eyes filled with tears.

“Then don't misbehave next time.” He reached for her and pulled her closer to him by her hips. The touch of his strong hands was oddly intimate, and she was glad when he guided her over his lap without asking her to do it herself again. It was a small mercy and she was grateful for it.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, tugging down her pants and panties in one swift movement. The warning did not make it any easier. She lay tensely in place as he draped the split leather of the tawse over her cheeks, then pulled it away. With a quick snapping motion it was back, laying a hell fire sting across her sensitive skin. Zora shrieked as it landed, arching her back with the agony it caused. He held her down firmly, his forearm across her shoulders and repeated the treatment over and over, lashing her poor bare bottom until she knew she couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't speak or lecture, he didn't yell and he didn't comfort her with kind words, he simply spanked her over and over again. She had no idea how many times the tawse rose and fell, she only knew that it was falling on the same welted skin over and over again and with every new stroke the pain peaked at new heights.