Page 19 of Punished and Trained
“Remove your clothing,” Mistress Nurana commanded matter-of-factly. “Everything except your collars. Fold your garments neatly and place them in the designated cubicles.”
The order hit me like a physical blow. After the brief reprieve of being clothed, even in this degrading schoolgirl uniform, the prospect of nudity in front of my classmates felt overwhelming. But I had learned the cost of hesitation from watching Morandra’s punishment.
With trembling fingers, I began unbuttoning my white blouse. Around me, the other women were doing the same, their movements hesitant, but compliant. When I stepped out of my white cotton panties, the cool air against my bare sex reminded me sharply of my depilated state. I felt utterly revealed, more humiliated somehow than I had even during the reception at the embassy. Perhaps it was the intimacy of being naked among women who shared my circumstances, or perhaps it was the knowledge that this was only the beginning of more invasive humiliations to come.
“Excellent,” Mistress Nurana said, surveying our naked forms with professional detachment. “Now you’ll each receive a support garment designed specifically for our physical education program.”
She moved to a cabinet and withdrew what appeared to be transparent breast halters—gossamer-thin material that would provide minimal coverage while emphasizing rather than concealing our breasts. As she handed them out, I noticed with a mixture of fascination and horror that every woman in the class had been depilated just as I had. The uniformity of our bare sexes created an oddly compelling visual that made me acutely aware of my own nakedness.
“These garments serve multiple purposes,” Mistress Nurana explained as we struggled into the flimsy halters. “They provide support during exercise while ensuring your bodies remain on display. Your Guardians will expect you to move with grace and confidence, regardless of your state of undress.”
The transparent material felt strange against my skin, offering the illusion of modesty while actually highlighting my breasts more effectively than complete nudity might have. I caught sight of myself in the mirrored wall and felt a fresh wave of humiliation at how the garment transformed me into something between a student and a sexual object.
“Today we’ll begin with basic flexibility training,” Mistress Nurana announced. “Partner exercises are particularly effective for building trust and cooperation among students.”
She began pairing us off, and to my dismay, I found myself matched with Morandra. The former professor’s dark skin still showed the faint marks of her earlier punishment, and I could see the careful way she moved, obviously still tender from the strapping.
“Face each other and hold hands,” Mistress Nurana instructed. “Miss Viola, you’ll lean back while Miss Morandra supports your weight. This exercise builds both physical flexibility and emotional trust.”
As I grasped Morandra’s hands and began to lean backward, I felt an unexpected intimacy in the position. Our nearly naked bodies formed a graceful arch, our faces close enough that I could see the intelligence still burning in her eyes despite everything she had endured.
“Deeper,” Mistress Nurana commanded, pressing her hand against the small of my back to force a more pronounced arch. “Your Guardian will expect a good deal of flexibility from your spine.”
The position thrust my chest forward, the transparent halter doing nothing to conceal my hardened nipples. I bit my lip to suppress a whimper as the stretch intensified, my body responding to the combination of physical stress and intimate positioning in ways that shamed me.
“Switch positions,” Mistress Nurana ordered.
Now it was my turn to support Morandra as she arched backward, her athletic body forming an elegant curve that I couldn’t help but admire. The trust required for the exercise seemed somehow to create a bond between us. I wished I dared ask how much her bottom hurt, or—more to the point—how she had come to give up her independent life on Hippolyta.
“This cooperation will help you adjust especially to your subordinate relationship to your Mistresses, ladies. That’s something that may come more naturally to younger women, who are more inclined to look up to the older woman who teaches them to serve a man. You, on the other hand, may have the instinct to question, rather than to trust that your Mistress knows best.”
CHAPTER 9
Viola
After we had done several different cooperative exercises, Mistress Nurana declared herself satisfied.
“Time for showers,” she announced briskly. “Follow me to the bathing facilities.”
My heart sank as she led us through another set of doors into a long, tiled room lined with individual shower stalls. Each stall had a frosted glass door that would provide some privacy, and I could see folded towels stacked neatly on benches between them.
“You will each shower in your own stall,” Mistress Nurana explained, her voice echoing off the white ceramic walls. “This alternation between nudity in others’ presence, and privacy at specified times, is designed to teach you proper modesty. When you’re dressed, you understand the value of covering yourself. When you’re naked, you appreciate the privilege of garments.”
She gestured toward the stalls with practiced efficiency. “Take your time to cleanse yourselves thoroughly. Pay particular attention to your intimate areas. Your bodies must be maintained in pristine condition at all times.”
I selected a stall at random, my legs still trembling from the exercises. The frosted glass provided the illusion of privacy while still allowing our silhouettes to remain visible to anyone observing. As I stepped inside and turned on the water, I heard Mistress Nurana’s voice continuing her lecture.
“Remember, ladies, women are always in danger of succumbing to temptation when washing themselves.” Her tone carried a warning that made my stomach clench. “Your hands may wander to places they shouldn’t go. If they do, I assure you the consequences will be dire.”
The warm water cascaded over my shoulders, and I reached for the soap provided on a small shelf. As I began to wash, Mistress Nurana’s words about temptation echoed in my mind. I found myself acutely aware of every touch, every sensation as I cleaned my body. When I reached between my legs to wash my bare sex, the contact sent an unwelcome jolt through me.
I found my mind turning over and over what Mistress Nurana had said about trusting my Mistress, about cooperation and submission. Despite myself, I found the concepts strangely compelling. The idea of having someone else make the difficult decisions, of surrendering the burden of constant choice and responsibility, held an appeal I couldn’t entirely dismiss.
My hand lingered between my thighs, ostensibly for cleaning purposes, but I felt a sudden, powerful surge of arousal. I wondered for a moment if Mistress Orela had turned on the governor’s stimulation, but then to my dismay I understoodthat somehow the very idea of the device, and the memory of my master turning its suppression up, had amplified every sensation. Suddenly I desperately wanted to touch myself properly, to seek the release that had been building inside me since my capture.
My fingers pressed more firmly against the little bud, the tender, demure hood that covered the forbidden center of my need, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan. Just for a moment, I told myself. Just to relieve some of this terrible tension.
But even as the thought formed, I heard Mistress Nurana’s footsteps outside my stall, her shadow visible through the frosted glass. I jerked my hand away as if burned, my heart hammering with the knowledge of how close I had come to disobedience and its terrible consequences.
