Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
She's too busy trying to keep from coming right then and there as she imagines her new owner bending her over, punished and sore, for the deeply shameful lesson he warned her about.
Because he's not just going to spank her ass red tonight.
He's going to claim it for the first time.
Publisher's Punished and Trained is a stand-alone entry in the Galactic Discipline series. The books of the Galactic Discipline series can be read in any order. Punished and Trained includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Viola
“Sire,” I said, as always hating how the word sounded in my ears and felt in my body, “please?”
Prince Hendren, the heir to the Magisterian throne and the man who for all intents and purposes owned me, looked down at me from his considerable height. The physical distance between us was greatly enhanced by my kneeling in front of him, but that disparity didn’t come close to the weight of the other difference: my master had his Magisterian uniform on, and I was naked.
“No, Viola. The fact that you were once the warmongering president of Artemisia makes it more important, rather than less, that your submission to me be fully visible at the reception. You will be naked except for your collar.”
I still couldn’t get used to it, the collar—probably, paradoxically, because of how slender and light it was. I could go long minutes without even remembering that Prince Hendren had marked me as his property that way, what I now wore at all times the sign of my precipitous fall from power.
“You still haven’t accepted your position, Viola,” Prince Hendren said, his voice carrying that aristocratic certainty that had from the beginning—even when Magisteria and Artemisia had negotiated the disastrous treaty—both captivated and terrified me. “You speak the words, you kneel, but in your mind, you still cling to the woman you thought you were.” He ran a finger along my jawline, tilting my face up. “This trip to Euporia will change that. By the time we return to Magisterian space, you will understand what it truly means to be my concubine.”
I lowered my eyes, feeling the familiar heat spreading through my core even as my cheeks burned with humiliation. That was the worst part—not the nakedness, not even the collar, but the way my body betrayed me at every turn. My nipples hardened at his touch, my sex grew wet at his commands. The transition from President Herranofar to royal plaything had been brutal, each day a new lesson in degradation. I had signed the surrender documents to save my world, but I hadn’t understood the personal price I would pay.
“Stand up and turn around,” he ordered suddenly. “Bend over and show me your anus.”
My breath caught. Something in me lurched forward, eager to please him, to earn his approval. My thighs trembled, my heart raced with the desire to obey—but my mind rebelled, locking my muscles in place. I couldn’t do it. Not this. The last vestige of presidential dignity screamed inside me.
“Please, Sire,” I whispered, hating the pleading tone that had replaced my once-commanding voice. “I’ll please you in other ways. Let me take you in my mouth, or—” I swallowed hard “—you could fuck me. Take me like… like that?”
His eyes hardened. “That isn’t what I commanded, Viola. Your body is mine to use as I see fit, and right now, I wish to see you display your sweet little bottom hole to me. Your continued resistance only proves my point.” He walked to the cabinet built into the stateroom wall and removed a leather whip. “You will show me your anus, and I will whip you for this reluctance, or you will be whipped until you obey, and then punished further afterward. The choice is yours, but there will be consequences either way, now.”
I stared at the whip, remembering the pain of my previous punishments, all given merely with the prince’s open hand. My right hand crept behind me almost unconsciously to clutch at my bottom cheeks, as if I could defend myself that way. The rational part of my brain—the part that had commanded the Artemisian defense force, negotiated interplanetary treaties, and managed economic crises—told me to simply obey and avoid the greater amount of pain. But something deeper, something I couldn’t explain even to myself, kept me frozen.
“Five seconds to decide,” he said, uncoiling the whip with obvious relish. “Five… four…”
“I can’t,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.
His smile was cold. “Three… two… one.” He gestured toward the punishment bench that represented a constant fixture of a stateroom on a Magisterian vessel. “You know the position.”