Page 41 of Punished and Trained
“Don’t close your eyes,” Mistress Orela commanded sharply. “Watch each other. See how beautiful you all look when you surrender to what your bodies need.”
Reb’s soft whimpers filled the air as she struggled against the relentless stimulation, her pale skin flushed pink with arousal and shame. Beside her, Lara reached out instinctively, their fingers intertwining as they rode the mechanical intrusions together, finding comfort in shared degradation.
“Think about your Guardians,” Mistress Orela continued, her voice cutting through our desperate gasps. “Remember how it felt to be claimed so thoroughly, to have your resistance broken down until you begged for their use of your bodies.”
The memories she evoked combined with the relentless vibration to push me toward the edge with terrifying speed. I could see the same effect on my classmates—Morandra’s composed demeanor had vanished entirely as she bucked against her saddle, while Trellama’s red hair whipped around her face as she threw her head back in irresistible pleasure.
“Oh… oh… no, please…” I gasped, my voice breaking as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me completely. “Please, Mistress, I can’t hold back…”
“None of you can,” she replied with evident satisfaction. “That’s exactly the point. Your bodies belong to others now—to your master, to your Guardians, to the Academy. Even your pleasure is no longer your own to control.”
The vibrations increased again, and I felt my control shatter completely. My climax tore through me with devastating force, my scream joining the chorus of my classmates as we all surrendered simultaneously to the mechanical violation. The sight of five other women writhing in forced ecstasy while impaled on identical devices created a feedback loop of shame and arousal that seemed to prolong the sensation endlessly.
When the vibrations finally ceased, we slumped forward on our saddles, gasping and trembling in the aftermath. Tears of shame and exhaustion streaked down our faces as the reality of what had just happened sank in.
“Beautiful,” Mistress Orela murmured, consulting her handheld with clinical interest. “Your arousal readings during that exercise were remarkable. Prince Hendren will be particularly pleased with your responses, Miss Viola.”
CHAPTER 19
Hendren
Three days after Viola’s return to the Academy, following her eventful night with Colonel and Mrs. Quinst, I sat in my study looking at my handheld with profound satisfaction. The data from Viola’s latest lessons under the capable tutelage of Mistress Orela had at the very least confirmed what I had suspected since first claiming Viola as my concubine.
The systematic breaking of her resistance and training her for a nobleman’s bed, though, had proceeded even more smoothly than I had dared hope. Moreover, what had begun as political necessity—acquiring Artemisia’s meddling, belligerent former president as a symbol of Federation dominance—had evolved into something far more personally gratifying. Some extraordinary alchemy in Viola Herranofar’s relationship to power and its inverse continued to attract me as no other concubine’s charms had done.
The high-society gathering tonight, what the Euporians called a Presentation, would provide the perfect venue to displaymy prize—and, I hoped, to demonstrate to Viola herself how rewarding a life as my sexual servant and diplomatic partner could prove. The Euporian elite took great pleasure in these exhibitions, where properly trained women served as both entertainment and testament to the effectiveness of their methods. I had looked forward to this particular evening since the first time I had reviewed the agenda for my state visit, weeks ago.
My aide knocked softly before entering my study. “Your Royal Highness, the formal attire has been prepared for this evening’s event. Shall I have the transport ready at eight, so that your entrance draws the attention it merits?”
“Make it seven-thirty,” I replied, straightening my cuffs as I rose from my desk. “I want to arrive early enough to observe the other bestowals before the Quinsts bring Viola to me.”
The drive through Euporia’s capital provided a pleasant opportunity to review my strategy for the more delicate moments that would pass this evening. These gatherings served multiple purposes beyond mere entertainment for this planet’s elite, and the presence of my Magisterian delegation would provide opportunities for both sides of the new alliance to advance their interests.
A Euporian Presentation reinforced social hierarchies, demonstrated the success of training methods, and allowed influential men to assess each other’s acquisitions. My position as a Magisterian prince and the head of the Federation’s delegation to the ongoing negotiations would naturally draw attention, and Viola’s former status as a planetary president would make the occasion of her bestowal on me, according to Euporian law, truly remarkable.
Over the centuries since humanity had begun to disperse itself across the galaxy, the worlds who had adopted traditional gender roles had proved themselves most successful in gathering power and influence in the new intra-planetary order. The Magisterian Federation and the Vionian Empire represented only the most obvious examples of the principle; the success of worlds like Euporia truly proved the point.
In the course of the establishment of the social networks that supported amicable ties among such worlds, the diplomatic shorthand of displaying the depth of submission of a leader’s most prized concubine had come to carry a great deal of weight. To have a brilliant, successful woman as an obedient bed girl would serve me extraordinarily well not only on Euporia, but throughout the galaxy.
The venue proved as opulent as I had expected. The Euporian Cultural Center’s main hall had been transformed into an elegant showcase, with small groups of men in formal attire circulating among displays that would have scandalized less enlightened societies. Here, they represented the pinnacle of civilized achievement—the successful domestication of feminine willfulness into proper submission and the harnessing of women’s intellect to the constructive purposes of advancing civilization.
I paused at the entrance to survey the scene with a connoisseur’s eye. Each Guardian couple had arranged their pupil as they thought would best present her compliance, the young women positioned to demonstrate both their beauty and their training. Some knelt beside their temporary masters, others stood with practiced poise, but all wore the same essential uniform—a cloak that could be opened at any man’s discretion to reveal a lovelybody, clad only in a tiny, lacy pair of panties that revealed much more than they concealed.
“Your Royal Highness!” Colonel Quinst’s voice carried across the marble floor as he approached with military precision, his wife at his side and a familiar figure following behind them. “Here you see our pupil, Viola Herranofar, in her first public appearance since beginning Academy training. We will be happy to present her to you, should you find her pleasing.”
Viola
My breath caught as I gazed at Prince Hendren’s feet, shod in gorgeous black leather dress boots. In my mind’s eye, I saw his handsome face, his penetrating eyes, taking in the sight of his concubine transformed.
“Shall I open her cloak for you?” Colonel Quinst asked. I felt my forehead crease hard and I took my lower lip between my teeth to keep myself from letting out a humiliating whimper.
I knew that the simple white lace panties in which Mistress Orela had dressed me emphasized rather than concealed my feminine curves. When she had draped the dark blue cloak around my shoulders, I had almost persuaded myself that no man would dare part its lapels. In the mirror, it had given me a regal bearing despite her state of undress. I had thought:I am a leader, a president again.My dark hair, arranged in a sophisticated style, recalled my days in power, too. I had simply tried to forget the collar at my throat that left no doubt about my current status.
“Magnificent work, Colonel,” I heard His Royal Highness say, allowing his appreciation to show in my voice. “May I open the cloak myself?”
“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” Colonel Quinst replied with evident satisfaction. “She may have been skittish before, but now Viola has been trained to accept such inspection with proper grace.”
I felt Prince Hendren’s fingers brush against the lapels of the cloak, and my entire body trembled with anticipation and mortification. The memory of his hands on my skin, the way he had claimed every inch of me during our nights together, sent an unwelcome need through my limbs, one the public setting only seemed to intensify.
