Page 4 of Punished and Trained
His seed dripped down my chin and onto my neck, a warm, viscous reminder of my new status. I couldn’t look away from his face, from the satisfaction in his eyes as he surveyed his handiwork. The face that still graced my presidential portrait, back on Artemisia, hanging now in what had become a Magisterian reformation center, made a canvas for his masculine pleasure.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, tracing his forefinger through the wetness on my cheek. “Now you look like what you truly are.” He pushed his finger between my lips. “Clean it.”
I sucked obediently, tasting the salt of him, my body still trembling with denied release.
“You’ll wear my seed to the reception,” he said, releasing my bottom at last. “My mark on your skin, even more meaningful than your collar. No one else will see it, but you’ll feel it. You’ll know.”
He stepped back, tucking himself away with casual efficiency, once again the immaculate Magisterian prince while I remained a debased creature, face covered in his seed, bottom burning from his discipline.
“We’ll be in orbit over Euporia in three hours,” he informed me, straightening his uniform. “You’ll be bathed and prepared by my servants, but I know for certain that this pretty picture—” he gestured to my face “—will remain present in your mind, no matter how you try to scrub my seed off, reminding you of what you truly need.”
I didn’t see Prince Hendren again until just before we disembarked, when he came to the sumptuous bathroom where two serving women had just finished bathing me. I stood dripping as they patted my skin dry with soft towels, my face burning with the memory of what had happened earlier. Though they had washed his seed from my face, I could still feel it there, just as he had predicted, marking me as his possession.
“On the bench,” Prince Hendren ordered, gesturing to the padded surface near the bath. “Put her on her back.”
The servants exchanged a glance before one of them guided me toward the bench. “Yes, Your Highness,” she murmured, her eyes downcast.
“Legs up and open,” he instructed them as they positioned me. “Hold them for me.”
I gasped as they complied, each servant taking one of my legs and pulling them back and apart, exposing my pussy and my anus completely. One of them slid a soft towel beneath me.
“Perfect,” the prince said, his gaze traveling over my displayed body. He reached into a leather case and withdrew what looked like a sleek metal wand. When he pressed a button, a soft blue light emanated from its tip.
“Do you know what this is, Viola?” he asked, holding the device where I could see it.
I shook my head, my heart racing.
“A heat razor. Standard issue for Magisterian women.” He stepped closer, positioning himself between my spread thighs. “It removes unwanted hair without pain or irritation.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized his intention. “No,” I whispered, “Please. I thought…”
Other women on Artemisia, I knew, had been made to submit to the removal of their pubic hair. I had felt certain that because the prince had left mine intact until this moment I had been allowed this one bit of dignity, in exchange for having been the leader of a whole world.
He ignored my plea, bringing the device to the triangle of dark curls between my legs. “Hold her perfectly still,” he instructed the servants.
The heat razor hummed softly as he pressed it against my skin. It felt warm, but not painful, and I watched in horrified fascination as my pubic hair simply fell away beneath its glowing tip. PrinceHendren worked with meticulous precision, removing every trace of hair from my mound.
“Wider,” he instructed the servants, who pulled my legs further apart. The position exposed me obscenely, allowing him access to every fold and crevice.
He continued his work, moving the heat razor along my outer lips, then carefully tracing my inner labia. Despite my humiliation, I felt my body responding to his touch, to the gentle heat of the device as it glided over my most sensitive areas.
“Raise her slightly,” he said. “I need access to her bottom.”
The servants adjusted my position, tilting my hips upward. I closed my eyes, unable to watch as Prince Hendren ran the heat razor along the cleft of my buttocks, removing even the fine hairs there. His fingers spread me open to ensure he missed nothing.
“There,” he said finally, setting the device aside. “Much better.”
His hand caressed my newly bare mound, the touch sending unwelcome shivers through my body. “It’s extremely important to me that your cunt looks and feels submissive, Viola,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “This smoothness will help you learn your place, as well as display my ownership of your beautiful body and the subjugation of your strong will.”
I bit my lip to keep from protesting. The loss of such an intimate part of myself—even just the hair that had covered my sex since puberty—felt like another piece of my identity stripped away.
“Every time you feel the air against your bare skin, every time you notice the smoothness between your thighs, you’ll remember who you belong to,” he continued, running his thumbover my exposed labia. “You’ll remember that your body exists for my pleasure, not yours.”
The servants released my legs at his signal, but remained nearby as he helped me to my feet. My knees felt weak, my bare sex uncomfortably sensitive as I stood.
“You may leave us,” Prince Hendren told the servants. When they had gone, he lifted my chin with one finger. “It’s time for our mission to Euporia to begin.”
CHAPTER 3
