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 watched in horrified fascination as Trellama sank down, her schoolgirl skirt spreading around her on the classroom floor. The position thrust her face level with Guardian Aldrich’s waist, and I felt my own breathing become shallow as I wondered what would come next, sure that it couldn’t be what a dark, hot part of me suspected.
But, indeed, Guardian Aldrich reached for the fastenings of his formal trousers with the same measured precision with which he had spoken. “The first act of submission a woman must learn,” he said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent classroom, “is to show proper reverence for masculine authority.”
His manhood emerged, thick and imposing, mere inches from Trellama’s terrified face. I heard Palla’s sharp intake of breath beside me, felt my own pulse hammering against my collar as the scene unfolded.
“Now, girl,” Mistress Aldrich said, her hand resting on Trellama’s shoulder with gentle firmness, “you must kiss Guardian Aldrich’s manhood to demonstrate your acceptance of his authority over you. Just a soft, respectful kiss to show your willingness to learn.”
“I can’t,” Trellama whispered, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “Please, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Mistress Aldrich replied, her voice still warm, but carrying an undertone of steel. “This is not a request, my dear. This is an essential lesson in proper feminine behavior.”
Trellama’s sob echoed through the silent classroom as she leaned forward with agonizing slowness. Her lips barely brushed against the fluted head of Guardian Aldrich’s erection—the most chaste of kisses—but the symbolism seemed devastating. The former engineering student from Draco had just publicly submitted to masculine authority in the most intimate way imaginable.
“Beautiful,” Mistress Aldrich murmured, helping Trellama to her feet with tender efficiency. She pulled the sobbing girl into a maternal embrace, stroking her hair with gentle fingers. “You’ve taken your first step toward true womanhood, my dear. I’m so proud of you.”
The contrast was jarring—Mistress Aldrich’s nurturing warmth following such a degrading act. Trellama clung to the older woman like a drowning person to driftwood, her shoulders shaking with silent tears.
“Miss Viola.” Mistress Orela’s crisp voice cut through my horrified fascination. “Please approach Guardian and Mistress Quinst.”
My legs felt like water as I stood, every eye in the room tracking my movement. A couple stepped forward from the line—the woman elegant in a navy dress that complemented her silver-streaked brown hair, the man tall and imposing in his military bearing. I recognized him with a jolt of terror: Colonel Quinst from the embassy reception.
“Mistress Quinst, may I present your pupil, Viola Herranofar, formerly president of Artemisia, now concubine to His Royal Highness Prince Hendren.”
The woman—Betty Quinst—smiled with practiced warmth, though her eyes held the same steel I had seen in Mistress Aldrich. “Thank you, Mistress Orela. Viola, I am Betty Quinst, and I will be your Mistress during this phase of your education.” She stepped closer, her hand settling on my shoulder with firm possession. “My husband, Colonel Quinst, will serve as your Guardian.”
The Colonel stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes assessing me with military precision. Unlike Guardian Aldrich’s measured kindness, there was something harder in Colonel Quinst’s bearing—a man accustomed to absolute obedience.
“Viola,” he said, his voice carrying the authority of decades in command. “You will address me as Guardian and my wife as Mistress. You belong to His Royal Highness Prince Hendren, I know, but for the next phase of your training, you will obey us as you would obey him. Is this understood?”
“Yes, Guardian,” I whispered, my throat dry as sand.
Betty Quinst’s hand pressed down on my shoulders with gentle but inexorable force. “Kneel, girl. Show your Guardian the proper respect.”
CHAPTER 11
Viola
As I sank to my knees, the familiar position sending unwelcome heat shooting through me, I heard Colonel Quinst’s belt buckle chime softly. The sound made my stomach clench with dread and helpless, mortifying anticipation. My eyes remained fixed on the polished floor as I heard the whisper of fabric, the soft rustle of clothing being adjusted. The classroom had fallen into absolute silence except for the rapid breathing of my classmates and the steady tick of the wall chronometer.
“Look up, Viola,” Colonel Quinst commanded, his voice carrying the same authority I had heard at the embassy reception. “You will look at my manhood closely, and then you will meet my eyes as you perform this act of submission.”
I raised my gaze slowly, my cheeks burning with humiliation as I took in the sight before me. Colonel Quinst stood with military bearing, his uniform trousers open to reveal his imposing manhood. Unlike Guardian Aldrich’s measured presentation, there was something more demanding about the colonel’s posture, something that spoke of an expectation of absolute obedience.
I obeyed, and I looked my new Guardian’s erection: I couldn’t help myself. The rigid shaft seemed just as imposing as Prince Hendren’s, though where my master’s cock was thick and broad like a broadsword, the Colonel’s was leaner, more like a rapier—elegant in its severity. The comparison sent fresh heat flooding through my cheeks, and to my utter dismay, I felt my mouth begin to water involuntarily.