Page 39 of Punished and Trained
“I know,” Lara whispered, her other hand stroking Reb’s pale cheek with infinite tenderness. “But you need this. Your body needs to be ready, or it will hurt so much worse.”
The awful truth of her words hung in the air between them. We had all learned that resistance only brought greater pain, that our bodies’ responses lay beyond our conscious control. Watching Reb surrender to her friend’s touch while we sat impaled on these degrading devices felt like witnessing the systematic destruction of everything we had once believed about ourselves.
“Now, Miss Reb,” Mistress Orela announced with evident satisfaction, “you’re ready to take your position. Miss Lara will assist you.”
Reb’s legs trembled as Lara guided her toward the remaining saddle, her friend’s hands steady and supportive despite the mortifying circumstances. The pale woman’s face was streaked with tears, but her breathing had grown shallow with unmistakable arousal.
“Slowly,” Lara murmured, helping position Reb over the leather seat. “Let me help you down.”
I watched in horrified fascination as Reb lowered herself onto the artificial shaft, her face contorting with a mixture of discomfort and unwelcome pleasure. When she settled fully onto the saddle, a soft moan escaped her lips despite her obvious distress.
“Perfect,” Mistress Orela said, moving to stand before us with predatory satisfaction. “Now that you’re all properly positioned, we can begin today’s lesson. You will share with your classmates exactly what happened in your Guardian couples’ homes last night. Every detail. Every shameful response. Every moment of surrender.”
My stomach clenched with dread as the implications sank in. We would be forced to confess our degradation while impaled on these obscene devices, our bodies held open and vulnerable as we recounted our most intimate humiliations.
“Miss Viola,” Mistress Orela continued, her eyes finding mine with laser focus, “as our most distinguished student, you may begin. Tell us about your evening with Colonel and Mrs. Quinst.”
The thick shaft inside me seemed to pulse with my racing heartbeat as I struggled to find words. Around me, my classmates watched with expressions of sympathy and morbid curiosity, all of us united in our shared humiliation.
“I… they made me…” I began, my voice cracking with shame as the memories flooded back with vivid clarity.
The words came haltingly at first, my voice barely above a whisper as I described how they had made me serve dinner with my panties around my knees. But as I spoke, something strange began to happen. The shaft inside me seemed to grow warmer, more insistent, and I found myself unconsciously moving against it as the memories became more vivid.
“Mrs. Quinst examined me first,” I continued, my breathing growing shallow as I recalled her knowing fingers. “She… she prepared me while the colonel watched. Then he…”
I trailed off, unable to continue as heat flooded my cheeks. But Mistress Orela’s expectant silence demanded more, and around me I could see my classmates leaning forward slightly, their own breathing quickened with what could only be arousal.
“He took me,” I whispered, the admission seeming to tear itself from my throat. “In my… in my bottom. While I served his wife with my mouth.”
A collective intake of breath rippled through the room. Palla’s face had flushed crimson, her hips making small, involuntary movements against her own saddle. Morandra’s scholarly composure had cracked entirely, her lips parted as she listened with obvious fascination.
The realization that my shameful confession was arousing them sent a bolt of mortifying heat straight through my core. Worse, I could feel myself beginning to move more deliberately against the thick intrusion, my body seeking friction as the memories grew more intense.
“Continue,” Mistress Orela commanded softly, and I noticed her consulting a handheld device with evident interest. The small screen glowed with data that could only be from my governor—she was monitoring my arousal in real time as I recounted my degradation.
“I begged them,” I gasped, my voice growing stronger as shame and need battled within me. “I begged the colonel to fuck me, begged to kiss his… his cock. Mrs. Quinst made me tell her how wet I was getting.”
My hips had begun moving in earnest now, riding the saddle with increasing desperation as the words poured out of me. I could see the effect my story was having on the others—Trellamawas gripping her saddle’s edges, her knuckles straining as she fought her own responses.
“My… my governor…” I continued breathlessly, “you know, the device between my legs? They used it to make me… to force me to climax while the colonel was… while he was in my bottom and I was… oh, powers…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence as a small orgasm rippled through me, my vagina clenching hard around the artificial shaft as I relived the memory of that devastating night. The shame of climaxing while confessing my degradation to my classmates only seemed to intensify the sensation.
“As you can see and feel, ladies,” Mistress Orela murmured, her eyes rising from her handheld to meet each of ours in turn, “the correlation between memory and physical response is quite remarkable.”
When I finally finished my tale, our intimidating teacher turned to Reb.
“Miss Reb, you’re next. Tell us about your evening.”
Reb’s pale face went even whiter, if that were possible. Her small frame shook as she gripped the edges of her saddle, the artificial shaft buried inside her making her breathing shallow and uneven.
“Please, Mistress,” she whispered, tears already streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t… it was too…”
“I fear you have no choice, my dear,” Mistress Orela replied firmly, “unless you wish to feel the strap, which I know is not the case. Begin.”
Reb’s voice came out in broken sobs as she started to speak. “They… my Guardian and Mistress… they weren’t like the Colonel and Mrs. Quinst. They were… rougher.”
She paused, her hips moving involuntarily against the saddle as the memories surfaced. “They tied me to their bed as soon as we arrived. My wrists and ankles, spread out completely. I couldn’t move at all.”
