Page 49 of Punished and Trained
“Miss Viola,” Mistress Nurana’s voice cut through my distracted observations, “it’s your turn. Please assume position seven and then insert the device.”
Position seven—on my back with my knees raised and spread wide. The command sent a familiar jolt of mortification through me as I shifted from my kneeling position onto the padded mat, acutely aware of how the pose exposed my bare pussy and cringing anus to both Mistress Nurana’s evaluative gaze and the peripheral vision of my struggling classmates.
The measuring device felt cool and clinical in my trembling hands as I positioned it at the entrance to my vagina. Unlike the warm flesh of Prince Hendren’s magnificent cock or even the slick artificial phalluses from our previous lessons, this apparatus carried the sterile feel of medical equipment. I could almost feel the sensors along its surface pressing against my tender folds as I began to work it inside me, each increment accompanied by soft beeping from its invisible end, where I guessed the unseen display would register my success or failure.
“Deeper, Miss Viola,” Mistress Nurana instructed, her attention now fully focused on my performance. “Your master requires measurements from your full internal length. The device must be completely seated.”
I gasped as I pushed the intrusion further into my body, imagining the sensors mapping every ridge and contour ofmy vagina. The beeping changed a little, speeding up, clearly quantifying my most intimate responses for Prince Hendren’s review.
“Now then,” Mistress Nurana continued, settling beside me with her handheld ready to record data, “you must stimulate yourself to full arousal while practicing your contractions. His Royal Highness has specified that you should be able to grip his manhood with pressures between forty and sixty units, maintained for intervals of at least five seconds.”
The clinical terminology made my degradation somehow worse than crude language would have. To have my body’s responses reduced to precise measurements, to know my master had calculated exactly how my intimate muscles should serve his pleasure, sent fresh shame flooding through me even as my body began responding to the device’s presence.
“Begin with gentle contractions,” Mistress Nurana commanded, her eyes fixed on the readouts. “Use your free hand to maintain arousal while you practice the rhythm.”
My fingers found the swollen nub of my clit with practiced ease, the weeks of training having taught my body to respond quickly to such stimulation. As pleasure began building in my core, I attempted the internal contractions Mistress Nurana had described, hearing the device beep with a falling tone that I felt certain meant I hadn’t achieved my goal.
“Twenty-three units,” the physical education mistress noted. “Insufficient. Your master requires much stronger responses. Do your best to increase both your arousal and your muscular effort.”
The humiliating feedback made my cheeks burn as I worked more frantically at my sensitive flesh, trying to generate the internal strength Prince Hendren demanded. Around me, the sounds of my classmates’ training provided a symphony of degradation—Reb’s whimpering as Morandra worked a larger plug into her bottom, Trellama’s gasps as the nipple clamps were adjusted to tighter settings, the wet choking sounds from Lara and Palla’s mechanical throat training.
The beeping from the device in my pussy changed slightly, the fall in its pitch less severe. “Thirty-two units,” Mistress Nurana said, her voice taking on a tone of very slight approval. “You’re learning.”
Mistress Nurana rose from beside me, consulting her handheld as she moved to check on the other pupils. “Continue practicing, Miss Viola. I expect to see those readings improve when I return.”
Left alone with the humiliating device, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the muscular contractions Prince Hendren required. But as my fingers worked between my legs and the sensors measured my intimate responses, my mind began to wander to dark places.
I found myself imagining the public punishment my master had warned me about—not in the elegant function halls of Euporian society, but somewhere far more devastating. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself bound and helpless before the very planetary council chambers where I had once presided over Artemisia’s government. The irony was exquisite and terrible: the former president displayed naked and at the mercy of the men who had once deferred to my authority.
Prince Hendren stood behind me in this fantasy, a punishment cane in his hand, addressing the assembled council with cold precision. “Former President Herranofar, now my owned fuck toy, has requested this correction for her failures of leadership that led to Artemisia’s downfall,” his voice echoed in my imagination. “She will receive fifty strokes for her incompetence, and you will witness her complete submission to Federation authority.”
The imagined scene sent mortifying heat flooding through my core even as I tried to push it away. I could picture my naked bottom raised high on some terrible apparatus, my former colleagues watching in stunned silence as the cane whistled through the air to stripe my pale flesh with brutal precision.
Suddenly, without warning, I felt the governor between my legs surge to life with an intensity I had never experienced before. The stimulation was overwhelming, making me cry out and buck my hips involuntarily against the measuring device buried in my pussy. My back arched as waves of forced pleasure crashed through me, the clinical apparatus shifting inside me to create friction that sent ecstasy shooting through my limbs.
“Oh… oh, God… Sire…” I gasped, my voice echoing through the gymnasium as my body convulsed with the governor’s relentless stimulation. My hips moved frantically, working the measuring device deeper as I sought more friction, more pressure, anything to satisfy the desperate need the governor was creating.
The device’s beeping changed dramatically, its tone rising as the pressure readings climbed. Through the haze of forced arousal, I felt my internal muscles clenching around the sensors with a strength I hadn’t imagined I could muster, gripping the artificial phallus as if my body was trying to milk it of imaginary seed. The contractions came in rhythmic waves, each one strongerthan the last as the governor drove me toward a climax I knew I couldn’t prevent.
The fantasy of public caning merged with the physical reality of the measuring device until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. My mind filled with images of Prince Hendren’s disappointed expression as he reviewed my political failures, the way Artemisia had fallen because I hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t made the right choices. The shame of it mixed with the governor’s overwhelming stimulation until I was sobbing with need.
“Sixty-eight units and climbing,” Mistress Nurana’s voice cut through my desperate gasps as she returned to my station. “Excellent progress, Miss Viola. Your master will be most pleased with these readings.”
But her praise barely registered as the governor drove me to the edge of climax, my body writhing against the mat as the measuring device registered pressure readings I couldn’t have imagined achieving. The fantasy of punishment had unlocked something deep in my core, some desperate need for correction that made my muscles clench with devastating force around the sensors.
“Please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I was begging the governor to stop or continue, my hips bucking frantically as the stimulation threatened to tear me apart. “Please, I need… I need…”
And then, suddenly, I knew exactly what I needed. The realization crashed over me with the force of revelation, so clear and urgent that it cut through even the governor’s overwhelming stimulation. My eyes snapped open, meeting Mistress Nurana’s surprised gaze as the truth spilled from my lips.
“I have to ask him,” I gasped, my voice raw with desperate certainty. “I have to ask Prince Hendren to punish me publicly. For what I did to Artemisia. For my failures as president. It’s the only way.”
The words tumbled out of me in a rush, unstoppable now that they had begun. “My people suffered because I couldn’t protect them. I need to be caned for it, publicly, severely. I need to confess my failures and accept the correction I deserve.”
Mistress Nurana’s eyebrows rose with evident surprise, but there was something approaching admiration in her expression as she processed my desperate confession. “Miss Viola, are you certain of what you’re saying? You’re requesting severe public discipline?”
“Yes,” I sobbed, still rubbing my clit desperately in search of more. “Yes, I deserve it. I need it. Please, you must tell him that I’m begging for punishment. That I understand what I’ve done wrong and I want to be corrected for it.”
CHAPTER 24
