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)
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice strained as he maintained his punishing rhythm.
“Yes,” I gasped, no longer caring about dignity or resistance. “Yes, Sire, thank you, Sire.”
His fingers found my clit, circling the sensitive nub with merciless precision. The governor amplified every touch, sending thrills of intense pleasure radiating outward. My inner muscles clenched involuntarily around his invading cock, drawing a grunt of satisfaction from him.
“You’re going to come for me,” he said, his voice a command rather than a question. “You’re going to come with my cock in your backside, like the slut you truly are.”
“I can’t,” I sobbed, even as my body tensed, hovering on the precipice. “Please, I can’t.”
He pressed something on the controller again, and suddenly the world exploded. The governor had switched to its stimulation function, sending pulses of electric pleasure directly into my clit. I screamed, my body convulsing as an orgasm tore through me with devastating force.
“That’s it,” Prince Hendren encouraged, maintaining his thrusts as I shuddered beneath him. “Show me how much you love being taken this way.”
The orgasm seemed endless, wave after wave crashing over me as he continued to fuck my ass with relentless determination. Just as the intensity began to ebb, he adjusted the controller again, and a fresh surge of stimulation sent me careening into another climax.
“No,” I sobbed, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. “Please, I can’t—”
“You can,” he insisted, his voice tight with his own approaching release. “And you will. Again.”
The third orgasm ripped through me with such force that my vision blurred at the edges, consciousness threatening to slip away entirely. My entire body convulsed with the force of it, muscles spasming around the prince’s thick shaft as he continued his relentless invasion.
“Mine,” he growled, his rhythm even more punishing as his own release approached. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I sobbed, the word tearing from my swollen lips. “Yours, Sire.”
With a guttural grunt, Prince Hendren drove himself to the hilt and stilled, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside me. I felt the hot splash of his seed marking me internally, claiming my most private passage as his own. The governor continued its merciless stimulation, forcing yet another climax from my exhausted body as he filled me.
When he finally withdrew, I collapsed against the whipping block, trembling and spent. The prince adjusted something on the controller, and the intense stimulation subsided to a gentle hum, keeping me balanced on the edge of arousal without pushing me over again. I whimpered, too overwhelmed to form words.
“You’ll go to the Academy tomorrow,” he said, his voice returned to its usual aristocratic composure as he cleaned himself with a soft cloth. “You’ll learn your place more thoroughly than I could teach you alone.”
He moved to release my restraints, his touch businesslike yet not unkind. When I was free, he helped me to stand on trembling legs, my body still quivering with aftershocks.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I raised my eyes to meet his, expecting to see triumph or mockery. Instead, I found something more complex—satisfaction, certainly, but also something almost like approval.
“You’ll remember this,” he said, tracing a finger along my tearstained cheek. “When your Guardian takes you, when your Mistress instructs you, you’ll remember who truly owns you.”
“Yes, Sire,” I whispered, my voice raw from screaming.
He guided me to the enormous bed, laying me down with unexpected gentleness. “Sleep now. Tomorrow begins your true education.”
CHAPTER 6
Viola
I thought I had known humiliation until I walked through the doors of the Women’s Training Academy.
The next morning, after a short ride in an autocar, the building rose before me like a monument to feminine submission, its pristine white walls and orderly gardens seeming to anticipate the rigid structure that I knew must await within. As a concession to Euporian custom, Prince Hendren had allowed me to wear a simple shift dress made of purple synth silk and matching sandals, but I had nothing under it, unless my collar counted.
He walked beside me, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back as we approached the entrance. Despite everything that had transpired between us, I found myself clinging to his familiar presence, dreading the moment he would leave me here.
“Remember what we discussed,” he murmured as we climbed the marble steps. “You belong to me. Whatever happens here, that fundamental truth remains unchanged.”
The massive oak doors opened before we could knock, revealing a woman in an elegant navy dress with crisp white trim. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a severe chignon, and her pale blue eyes assessed me with clinical interest. I recognized her, to my horror: Mistress Orela.
“Your Royal Highness,” she said, curtsying deeply. “I don’t know if you remember me from the reception last night. I am Mistress Orela, Headmistress of the Women’s Training Academy. We are honored by your presence.”