Page 30 of Punished and Trained
Viola
“Betty, you’re doing an excellent job with Viola’s training,” Colonel Quinst said, setting down his napkin as he surveyed the empty dinner plates with evident satisfaction.
I stood frozen beside the table, the serving platter still clutched in my trembling hands, my face burning from the intimate touches both my Guardian and Mistress had subjected me to during the meal. The panties around my knees felt like shackles, terrible evidence of my degraded state as I waited for whatever humiliation would come next.
“Thank you, John,” Mrs. Quinst replied, her cheeks flushing with obvious pleasure at her husband’s praise. “She’s proving quite responsive to feminine guidance.”
Colonel Quinst rose from his chair, his gaze assessing me with the same clinical interest he had shown throughout dinner. “In fact, why don’t I handle the dishes tonight, Betty? You may take Viola to the bedroom and begin her instruction in pleasing another woman. I’ll join you in a little while.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My legs threatened to buckle as their meaning sank in, and I felt a too-familiar surge of involuntary heat flooding through my core despite my horror. Worse, my mind fastened immediately on the knowledge my governor would record every spike of shameful arousal, I knew, and transmit the fact of my body’s traitorous responses to Prince Hendren’s handheld, just as it did to my Guardian’s.
Mrs. Quinst’s face lit up with surprised delight, her maternal warmth taking on a dismayingly hungry edge. “Oh, John, how thoughtful! I was hoping we might have time for that lesson tonight.” She turned toward me, her pale eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Viola, dear, this will be difficult for you, especially at first, but you must make up your mind to accept it as part of your new life.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, though the growing heat between my thighs suggested my body understood perfectly well what they intended.
“Of course you don’t, dear,” Mrs. Quinst said gently, rising from her chair with fluid grace. “That’s why you need instruction. A properly trained woman must know how to please both her master and her mistress. I believe it’s an essential skill for any Magisterian concubine who may find herself in sophisticated company.”
Colonel Quinst moved toward the kitchen, pausing to cup my chin in his strong hand. “Consider this part of your diplomatic education, Viola. Prince Hendren will often entertain guests who expect their women to provide comprehensive entertainment.”
The casual way he discussed my future sexual servitude while his thumb traced my lower lip made my breath catch in my throat. I could feel my nipples hardening beneath the white cotton ofmy schoolgirl blouse, my body responding to his dominance with the same shameful eagerness that had become my constant torment.
“Now then,” Mrs. Quinst said, taking my elbow with firm possession, “let’s get you to the bedroom. Put down that platter before you drop it. Your hands are shaking terribly.”
She guided me down the hallway, my steps made mortifyingly awkward by the panties still tangled around my knees. Each shuffling step brought fresh awareness of my exposed state, the knowledge that Mrs. Quinst could see my bare bottom beneath the short skirt making my cheeks, impossibly, burn hotter with every step.
The master bedroom was much larger than my assigned room, dominated by a king-sized bed covered in crisp white linens. Soft lamplight cast intimate shadows across the space.
I noticed, dread growing in the pit of my stomach, that the heavy curtains had been drawn shut. A lingering, rational part of me thought it should feel cozy and inviting. The rest of me understood better: the hanging fabric created a private sanctuary for the dark sort of instruction my Guardian and Mistress had planned—a place where they could impose their desires and their will on me, and enjoy me as they chose free of any anxiety about their neighbors’ prying eyes.
“Don’t look so frightened, dear,” Mrs. Quinst said, closing the door behind us with a soft click. “I’m going to help you understand how natural it is for a woman to pleasure another woman. After all, who better to teach you about feminine needs than someone who possesses them herself?”
She moved to the bedside table, where I noticed a small collection of items had been arranged with the same precision that characterized the rest of their home. My stomach clenched as I recognized what appeared to be restraints, along with other implements whose shapes—their lengths, their girths—made my tummy flip.
“Tell me, Viola,” my Mistress continued, turning to face me with that maternal smile that had become so terrifying, “on Artemisia, surely women had intimate relationships with other women? It’s quite common throughout the galaxy.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I admitted reluctantly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Of course they did.”
“But it never interested you personally?” she pressed, moving closer with predatory grace.
I felt my face flame even hotter as I struggled to find words. “No, Mistress. I… I don’t know why, but it just never…”
“Perhaps,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “it was because deep down you wanted to be made to kiss another woman’s cunny. Because you craved the submission of being commanded to pleasure someone else, rather than choosing it freely.”
The words hit me like an electric shock, sending such a massive surge of arousal through my body that the clench between my thighs forced my breath from my chest in a helpless gasp. The shameful accuracy of her assessment threatened to make my knees buckle under me.
From the kitchen, I heard Colonel Quinst’s voice carry clearly through the house: “Whatever you’re doing in there, Betty, it’s working. Viola’s readings just spiked dramatically.”
The knowledge that my governor had betrayed my response, that both my Guardian and my master would know exactly how her degrading suggestion had affected me, only made the arousal worse. I felt trapped in a cycle of shame and need that seemed to feed on itself, growing stronger with each humiliating revelation.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed about what your body tells us,” Mrs. Quinst said softly, her hands moving to the buttons of my white blouse. “Now, let’s get you undressed properly. You can’t learn to please a woman while hiding behind your clothes.”
My hands flew up instinctively to protect myself, but Mrs. Quinst caught my wrists with strangely gentle firmness. “None of that, dear. You know better than to resist your Mistress’s instructions.”
“Please,” I whispered, even as I felt my arms going limp in her grasp. “I can’t… I’ve never…”
“That’s exactly why you need to learn,” she replied, her fingers returning to my buttons with practiced efficiency. “Prince Hendren will expect you to be accomplished in all forms of pleasure. Consider this an investment in your future happiness.”
The white cotton blouse parted under her ministrations, revealing the transparent halter I still wore from the Academy’s physical education session. Mrs. Quinst’s eyebrows rose with interest as she took in the gossamer garment that emphasized rather than concealed my hardened nipples.
