Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You want to know if your sponsor has the right to discipline you the way you were disciplined this afternoon?” she asked.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Yes,” Ann said simply. “Your sponsor is allowed to spank you, paddle you, or even whip you—all on your bare bottom and thighs—when you’re disobedient, disrespectful, or irresponsible.” She paused, her fingers touching her pearl necklace again. “For severe offenses, sponsors are also permitted to spank your naked vulva.”
My mouth fell open. “My… what?”
“Your vulva. Your pussy, if you prefer the colloquial term.” Ann’s tone remained perfectly professional, as if we were discussing something as mundane as parking privileges. “It’s outlined clearly in the agreement. Sponsors have found it to be an extremely effective deterrent for serious behavioral issues.”
I couldn’t breathe. The thought of being spanked there, on that most intimate, sensitive place— now bare thanks to Nurse Samuels… my mind recoiled from the image even as my body betrayed me with a pulse of shameful heat.
“But I… I mean, if he’s going to do that, can’t I just… can’t I end the arrangement? Before he punishes me?” The words tumbled out desperately. “Like, if I know he’s angry, can’t I just cancel it?”
Ann shook her head, and something in her expression told me she’d heard this question many times before. “No. An arrangement remains in effect for twenty-four hours after cancellation is initiated. And sponsors are explicitly allowed—in fact, encouraged—to administer a final punishment during that period.”
“What?” My voice came out as a squeak. “That’s not f—”
“It’s designed to ensure that associates face the consequences of their actions,” Ann interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “We’ve found that young women who can simply walk away when discipline looms never develop the self-control they need. They continue making the same mistakes, the same poor choices.” She leaned forward slightly. “Many girls come to appreciate how their sponsors help them develop genuine self-discipline. Structure. Accountability. Things they’ve been lacking.”
The words stung because they hit too close to home. Wasn’t that exactly why I’d been expelled? Poor choices. Lack of discipline. Cheating because I couldn’t make myself study properly, couldn’t make myself do what I knew I should.
“I understand this is frightening,” Ann continued, her voice softening again. “But you should know that sponsors are vetted with extraordinary thoroughness. We run background checks, psychological evaluations, financial audits. These men are carefully selected. And Selecta security is always watching through the surveillance systems to ensure your safety. If a sponsor ever crosses a line, we intervene immediately.”
I stared at the tablet screen, at the floor plan of the apartment that would be mine—and his. The camera icons seemed to pulse at me, reminding me that every moment would be observed, monitored, recorded.
Suddenly, a wave of rebellion rose from my belly to my chest and into my mind.
No.
No. This wouldn’t work… I couldn’t let this happen, no matter how hopeless my situation was.
“No,” I said, the word coming out stronger than I expected. I stood up, ignoring the pain that shot through my welted bottom. “I’ve seen enough. There’s no way I’m going through with this.”
Ann’s expression remained calm, almost expectant, like she’d been waiting for this moment. “I’m afraid the decision about whether you leave isn’t yours to make anymore, Laura. It’s Selecta’s.”
The words took a moment to penetrate. “What? No, I’m an adult, I can—”
“You signed the waiver,” Ann said, her voice still maddeningly professional. “You consented to the evaluation process. We determine when that process is complete.”
“Then I’m un-consenting!” I stood up and backed toward the door, my heart hammering. “I changed my mind. I’m leaving.”
I turned and bolted for the door, yanking it open. The corridor stretched before me, and I ran, my sneakers slapping against the polished floor. I didn’t know where I was going—just away, anywhere away from this place.
Heavy footsteps thundered behind me. Before I’d made it twenty feet, Hank’s massive, too-familiar hand closed around my upper arm, spinning me around.
“Let go of me!” I tried to wrench free, but it was like trying to escape from a steel trap. “What are you even doing here?”
“That’s enough,” he said, his voice flat. “The algorithm predicted you would wildcat—that’s what we call it—and I got notified to come over here. The software is pretty accurate.” He began walking, half-dragging me with him, and I stumbled along beside him, my protests echoing uselessly in the corridor.
We ended up back in Examination Room 4. The sight of that exam chair with its stirrups made my stomach drop.
“Take off your clothes,” Hank told me.
I stared at him open-mouthed. All I could think was, Not again.
“Take off your clothes, Laura,” the orderly repeated. “I don’t want to have to cane you again.”
I let out a little sob at that, my tummy lurching even as my hands flew to obey the humiliating command. Naked once more, weeping, I climbed into the horrible exam chair for the second time.