I’m sure he will be merciful.” He looked away, uncomfortable. “Though it
is not his nature.”
I hoped for our sakes that Marcus was right. Kind words
about God had not been dripping from our mouths, far from it. “But you called
him a…I’ve said…you’ve said…”
A finger on my lips hushed me. “Don’t worry. God knows he
can be a bastard. He will say it himself and he has surely heard most of
Borealis verbalize it at one moment or another. If speaking the truth about his
nature was punishable by death, then he would be a very lonely God.”
“But you were afraid he might kill me that first day in the
healing room.”
“That was different. He had not properly imprinted with
you.”
“Which means?”
“God creates every being on Borealis. Creation is taxing on
God, as you can imagine. Although he does not create often, sometimes he loses
control.”
I watched him as he paced the room.
“God’s creativity and power stem from his orgasm. Courtesans
will help him get to that state of arousal. And sometimes he drinks too much
wine, which is what I think happened when he created you.”
My mouth dropped open. “Wait. Are you saying he was drunk
when he created me?”
Embarrassed, Marcus cleared his throat. “That is the
theory.”
When he had turned away from me, I rolled my eyes. “And?”
“And when he has all his faculties, he imprints with each
being he creates, sealing their bond. He tells them what their erotic role is,
starts them on their life path. It is a deeply spiritual experience that is so
intense, none of us remember it. It is said we would go mad if we did. All we
know is that the imprinting gives each of his progeny an undeniable belief in
his divinity. They know he is their Creator, their Master, their God. It is
never questioned. But—”
“He got drunk and didn’t imprint with me.”
“Something like that,” he said, huffing out air. “We think
you ran away before he could finish and he was not in a state of mind to go
after you.”
I didn’t believe a word of it, but was fascinated and
somewhat entertained by the story Boreas had cooked up to explain my memory
loss. “Nevertheless, he still hasn’t imprinted with me.”
“No, but he is quite taken with you.” He grinned and tugged
at a lock of my hair. “I doubt there is anything you could do to make him send
you away.”
I was counting on that. “What else can he do? What powers
does he have?”
A squeeze of my shoulder and a nod to the X-shaped table
ended the conversation. “Another time. We need to get back to training.”
Panting, I raised a limp hand in surrender. “I can’t go on,
Dominus.” I had enough of Submissive 101. “I’m exhausted.”
Marcus was covered in a slick film of sweat. Training me was
a workout for him too. In fact, I wondered if he hadn’t exerted himself even
harder than I had.
Tired or not, I couldn’t help but stare at my Dom. The ochre
hue of the torch lights danced across his body, highlighting the roped biceps,
broad chest and defined abs. I was entranced with the V of his pelvic girdle
which hinted to the delights concealed behind his loin cloth.
He narrowed the space between us, causing a fracture in my
resolve. “If you are too tired, we can stop, little sub.”
We were both soaked with perspiration. I wiped my forehead
with the back of my hand. “Yes, let’s stop. I need a bath!”
His eyes widened with warning.
“Dominus!” I squealed.
A couple of seconds of tension passed and we both burst out
laughing.
He shook his head and placed a kiss on my lips. “I’m going
to pretend you were too exhausted to remember your place.”
I gave him a crooked smile.
“To the lagoon for a bath,” he said motioning to the cell
door.
“And then rest or nap?”
“Maybe.”
At the lagoon, we were joined by the other residents of the
Dom’s Quarters. Instead of being shackled like before, they were unrestrained,
wading in the water, using the soap
is not his nature.”
I hoped for our sakes that Marcus was right. Kind words
about God had not been dripping from our mouths, far from it. “But you called
him a…I’ve said…you’ve said…”
A finger on my lips hushed me. “Don’t worry. God knows he
can be a bastard. He will say it himself and he has surely heard most of
Borealis verbalize it at one moment or another. If speaking the truth about his
nature was punishable by death, then he would be a very lonely God.”
“But you were afraid he might kill me that first day in the
healing room.”
“That was different. He had not properly imprinted with
you.”
“Which means?”
“God creates every being on Borealis. Creation is taxing on
God, as you can imagine. Although he does not create often, sometimes he loses
control.”
I watched him as he paced the room.
“God’s creativity and power stem from his orgasm. Courtesans
will help him get to that state of arousal. And sometimes he drinks too much
wine, which is what I think happened when he created you.”
My mouth dropped open. “Wait. Are you saying he was drunk
when he created me?”
Embarrassed, Marcus cleared his throat. “That is the
theory.”
When he had turned away from me, I rolled my eyes. “And?”
“And when he has all his faculties, he imprints with each
being he creates, sealing their bond. He tells them what their erotic role is,
starts them on their life path. It is a deeply spiritual experience that is so
intense, none of us remember it. It is said we would go mad if we did. All we
know is that the imprinting gives each of his progeny an undeniable belief in
his divinity. They know he is their Creator, their Master, their God. It is
never questioned. But—”
“He got drunk and didn’t imprint with me.”
“Something like that,” he said, huffing out air. “We think
you ran away before he could finish and he was not in a state of mind to go
after you.”
I didn’t believe a word of it, but was fascinated and
somewhat entertained by the story Boreas had cooked up to explain my memory
loss. “Nevertheless, he still hasn’t imprinted with me.”
“No, but he is quite taken with you.” He grinned and tugged
at a lock of my hair. “I doubt there is anything you could do to make him send
you away.”
I was counting on that. “What else can he do? What powers
does he have?”
A squeeze of my shoulder and a nod to the X-shaped table
ended the conversation. “Another time. We need to get back to training.”
Panting, I raised a limp hand in surrender. “I can’t go on,
Dominus.” I had enough of Submissive 101. “I’m exhausted.”
Marcus was covered in a slick film of sweat. Training me was
a workout for him too. In fact, I wondered if he hadn’t exerted himself even
harder than I had.
Tired or not, I couldn’t help but stare at my Dom. The ochre
hue of the torch lights danced across his body, highlighting the roped biceps,
broad chest and defined abs. I was entranced with the V of his pelvic girdle
which hinted to the delights concealed behind his loin cloth.
He narrowed the space between us, causing a fracture in my
resolve. “If you are too tired, we can stop, little sub.”
We were both soaked with perspiration. I wiped my forehead
with the back of my hand. “Yes, let’s stop. I need a bath!”
His eyes widened with warning.
“Dominus!” I squealed.
A couple of seconds of tension passed and we both burst out
laughing.
He shook his head and placed a kiss on my lips. “I’m going
to pretend you were too exhausted to remember your place.”
I gave him a crooked smile.
“To the lagoon for a bath,” he said motioning to the cell
door.
“And then rest or nap?”
“Maybe.”
At the lagoon, we were joined by the other residents of the
Dom’s Quarters. Instead of being shackled like before, they were unrestrained,
wading in the water, using the soap
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