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)
I shook my head as I pulled on the white cotton panties she handed me, the fabric strange against my bare skin after days of nudity.
“Answer me, Viola,” Mistress Orela said sharply. “Show me the respect I deserve.”
I swallowed hard.
“No…”
“Mistress,” the awful woman said, tilting her head toward me and narrowing her eyes.
“No, Mistress,” I said. “Prince… I mean, His Royal Highness—he hasn’t told me…”
I felt like my sanity had started to slip away. I couldn’t even seem to form a thought in the face of Mistress Orela’s complete conviction of her authority and rectitude.
“Put on your blouse,” she commanded.
I obeyed, grateful at least for a task to occupy me. The blouse had buttons—small and fiddly ones—clearly designed to make dressing a deliberate process.
“Hippolyta is called Magisteria’s sister planet not only because the two worlds lie in close proximity, but because women from Magisteria who do not wish to submit to masculine authority are allowed to settle there and govern themselves in the same sort of egalitarian way your world thought you could.”
I remembered now that I had indeed heard about Hippolyta. During the treaty negotiations, it had seemed at one point that Artemisia might be allowed to remain sovereign under the same kind of plan. Then with a flash of heat that went to my scalp I remembered that I had been the leader of the opposition to that idea.
“Morandra and Palla were caught aiding the resistance and given a choice. They decided to volunteer for reformation here on Euporia. I hope their attitude may teach you something, Viola, even though the dormitory phase lasts only a few days,” Mistress Orela explained, watching me struggle with the skirt’s complicated fastenings. “In that time, however, we are able to assess each student’s particular needs and provide guidance to their Guardians. Your case, of course, will require special consideration.”
My hands stilled on the skirt’s waistband. “Special consideration?”
“Your former position makes you a unique challenge,” she replied, adjusting the collar of my blouse with practiced efficiency. “Not every Guardian couple would be suitable for training a former head of state. We needed individuals with both the experience and the… fortitude to handle such a case.”
CHAPTER 7
Hendren
I could watch her forever.
The thought struck me as I reclined in the leather chair of my embassy study, eyes fixed on the high-definition display that showed the Women’s Training Academy classroom in exquisite detail. Viola sat ramrod straight at her assigned desk, her schoolgirl uniform perfectly arranged, her hands folded in her lap with the precise positioning Mistress Orela had drilled into her during the morning session. Even through the video feed, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenched almost imperceptibly as she fought to maintain the required posture.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
The camera angle gave me a perfect view of her profile—the elegant line of her neck rising from the white collar of her blouse, the way her dark hair had been styled in what seemed the Academy’s prescribed manner, with a simple blue ribbon. The schoolgirl aesthetic was devastatingly effective on her. Where once she had commanded respect in tailored presidential suits, now she looked like what she was becoming: a woman learning her proper place.
“Attention, ladies.” Mistress Orela’s crisp voice carried clearly through the audio feed. “We will now practice what we Euporians call the seven essential postures. These postures aren’t taught to young women until they are almost on the point of marriage, for they are—as you will see—quite openly suggestive. But with more mature learners I find the lesson helpful as a beginning. We’ll start with position one, which we call Presentation.”
I leaned forward slightly, my interest sharpening. This was new to me—Magisterian concubine training involved its own formality, but didn’t prescribe particular positions this way. I watched as Viola and her five classmates rose from their desks with varying degrees of uncertainty.
Curious, I fetched my handheld from a side table and pulled up the readout from Viola’s governor. I saw that Mistress Orela had left the suppression setting off, so that Viola could feel all the arousal and pleasure her cunt would naturally experience. The graph showing Viola’s arousal history over the last few minutes showed an interesting, rather pleasing spike, that looked to have occurred when the mistress had said the word Presentation.
“Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart,” Mistress Orela instructed, her own posture demonstrating perfect form. “Hands clasped behind your back, shoulders pulled back to display your chest properly. Eyes lowered in deference. This is how you will present yourself when your Guardian enters a room.”
Viola’s compliance seemed reluctant, but complete. I felt a surge of satisfaction watching her assume the submissive stance, her body language conforming to the rigid Euporian standards. The white blouse stretched across her breasts as she pulled her shoulders back, the short navy skirt deliciously showing her trim thighs.