Page 24 of Punished and Trained
The woman—Betty Quinst—smiled with practiced warmth, though her eyes held the same steel I had seen in Mistress Aldrich. “Thank you, Mistress Orela. Viola, I am Betty Quinst, and I will be your Mistress during this phase of your education.” She stepped closer, her hand settling on my shoulder with firm possession. “My husband, Colonel Quinst, will serve as your Guardian.”
The Colonel stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes assessing me with military precision. Unlike Guardian Aldrich’s measured kindness, there was something harder in Colonel Quinst’s bearing—a man accustomed to absolute obedience.
“Viola,” he said, his voice carrying the authority of decades in command. “You will address me as Guardian and my wife as Mistress. You belong to His Royal Highness Prince Hendren, I know, but for the next phase of your training, you will obey us as you would obey him. Is this understood?”
“Yes, Guardian,” I whispered, my throat dry as sand.
Betty Quinst’s hand pressed down on my shoulders with gentle but inexorable force. “Kneel, girl. Show your Guardian the proper respect.”
CHAPTER 11
Viola
As I sank to my knees, the familiar position sending unwelcome heat shooting through me, I heard Colonel Quinst’s belt buckle chime softly. The sound made my stomach clench with dread and helpless, mortifying anticipation. My eyes remained fixed on the polished floor as I heard the whisper of fabric, the soft rustle of clothing being adjusted. The classroom had fallen into absolute silence except for the rapid breathing of my classmates and the steady tick of the wall chronometer.
“Look up, Viola,” Colonel Quinst commanded, his voice carrying the same authority I had heard at the embassy reception. “You will look at my manhood closely, and then you will meet my eyes as you perform this act of submission.”
I raised my gaze slowly, my cheeks burning with humiliation as I took in the sight before me. Colonel Quinst stood with military bearing, his uniform trousers open to reveal his imposing manhood. Unlike Guardian Aldrich’s measured presentation, there was something more demanding about the colonel’sposture, something that spoke of an expectation of absolute obedience.
I obeyed, and I looked my new Guardian’s erection: I couldn’t help myself. The rigid shaft seemed just as imposing as Prince Hendren’s, though where my master’s cock was thick and broad like a broadsword, the Colonel’s was leaner, more like a rapier—elegant in its severity. The comparison sent fresh heat flooding through my cheeks, and to my utter dismay, I felt my mouth begin to water involuntarily.
The treacherous response horrified me. Prince Hendren had used my mouth so thoroughly, so completely, that my body had apparently learned to anticipate such use. The memory of his thick shaft sliding between my lips, the taste of him, the way he had gripped my hair while claiming my throat—all came rushing back as I knelt before this stranger.
I shouldn’t find the prospect so shameful, I told myself desperately. After everything Prince Hendren had done to me, after the way I had learned to service him with my mouth, this simple kiss should be nothing. Yet somehow, being commanded to perform this intimate act before my classmates, before these strangers who would control my next phase of training, felt like crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.
“I can’t,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them. “Please, Guardian, I can’t do this.”
The classroom seemed to hold its breath. Colonel Quinst’s expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes—not anger, which would have seemed easier, I thought, but a kind of cold satisfaction, as if my refusal represented exactly what he had expected.
“I see,” he said calmly, making no move to cover himself. “Betty, I believe our new pupil requires immediate correction before she can properly demonstrate her submission.”
Mistress Quinst’s hand tightened on my shoulder, her maternal warmth never wavering even as steel entered her voice. “Of course, darling. Viola, stand up immediately. You’ve just earned yourself a very thorough spanking in front of your classmates.”
My legs trembled as I rose, acutely aware of Colonel Quinst’s exposed manhood still demanding acknowledgment, of the shocked faces of my fellow students, of the complete authority these strangers now wielded over my body. The familiar heat of arousal mixed with terror as I realized that my first real act of defiance at the Academy was about to be corrected with public humiliation.
Colonel Quinst moved to the nearest chair, his erection still proudly displayed as he settled himself with military precision. “Over my knee, Viola. Now.”
My trembling legs carried me forward as if my body understood what my mind still rebelled against. I positioned myself awkwardly across his lap, acutely aware of his rigid shaft pressing against my stomach through the thin fabric of my blouse. The intimate contact sent helpless need through me even as tears of humiliation pricked at my eyes.
“Skirt up,” Mistress Quinst commanded from beside us, her voice maintaining that maternal warmth that somehow made everything worse. “Let’s make certain your classmates see exactly what happens to disobedient girls.”
I felt hands—both the colonel’s and his wife’s—flipping up my pleated navy skirt to expose my white cotton panties to theentire classroom. The cool air against my thighs made me shiver, but it was nothing compared to the burning shame of being displayed so intimately before my fellow students. As so many times before, the rational knowledge that I had been displayed so often by my master, in much more embarrassing situations, seemed to have no effect at all. The Euporian Good Way seemed simply to override such abstract ideas with the concrete reality of having my bottom exposed for discipline
“These will come down as well,” Colonel Quinst announced, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties. “Proper correction requires bare skin.”
“No, please—” I started to protest, but his free hand pressed firmly between my shoulder blades, holding me in place as he stripped away my last barrier of modesty.
The cotton panties slid down to my knees, leaving my bottom completely exposed. I heard Palla’s sharp intake of breath, felt the weight of six pairs of eyes on my naked flesh. The position thrust my bare sex into view as well, and I knew with mortifying certainty that my arousal would be visible to everyone watching.
“Spread your legs slightly,” Mistress Quinst instructed, her hand guiding my knee outward. “Perfect. Now everyone can see exactly how a naughty girl’s body responds to old-fashioned discipline.”
Mistress Orela’s voice cut through the scene. “You’ve heard about her Prosperian governor, I’m sure, Colonel. I’ve set it to the neutral position, so Viola’s responses will be entirely natural.”
“Thank you, Mistress Orela,” the colonel replied. His hand rested on the curve of my exposed bottom, his palm warmagainst my skin. “Viola, this spanking will continue until you beg to kiss my manhood,” he announced to the silent classroom. “Let this be a lesson to all of you about the consequences of disobedience.”
The first smack landed with stunning force, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Pain bloomed across my right buttock, intense and focused. I gasped, my body jerking forward against his thighs, feeling his manhood press more firmly against my stomach.
The second blow fell on my left cheek with equal precision. These weren’t the measured strokes of Prince Hendren’s cane—this was raw, immediate punishment delivered with a soldier’s efficiency. My bottom began to burn as Colonel Quinst established a rhythm, alternating cheeks with methodical thoroughness.
