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)
“There’s no need to be embarrassed about what your body tells us,” Mrs. Quinst said softly, her hands moving to the buttons of my white blouse. “Now, let’s get you undressed properly. You can’t learn to please a woman while hiding behind your clothes.”
My hands flew up instinctively to protect myself, but Mrs. Quinst caught my wrists with strangely gentle firmness. “None of that, dear. You know better than to resist your Mistress’s instructions.”
“Please,” I whispered, even as I felt my arms going limp in her grasp. “I can’t… I’ve never…”
“That’s exactly why you need to learn,” she replied, her fingers returning to my buttons with practiced efficiency. “Prince Hendren will expect you to be accomplished in all forms of pleasure. Consider this an investment in your future happiness.”
The white cotton blouse parted under her ministrations, revealing the transparent halter I still wore from the Academy’s physical education session. Mrs. Quinst’s eyebrows rose with interest as she took in the gossamer garment that emphasized rather than concealed my hardened nipples.
“How delightfully appropriate,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of the flimsy material. “The Academy’s methods are quite inspired. This little thing makes you feel almost naked while still technically clothed, doesn’t it?”
I could only nod, my throat too tight for words as she peeled away the halter with the same maternal care she might use to undress a child. The cool air of the bedroom raised goosebumps across my exposed breasts, my nipples tightening into painful points under her assessing gaze.
“Beautiful,” she said softly, her hands cupping my breasts with possessive appreciation. “Prince Hendren chose well. Now I’m going to take off your skirt, dear.”
The pleated navy fabric pooled around my ankles, leaving me standing in only my knee socks and the white cotton panties still tangled around my knees. I felt more keenly than seemed logical how my bare sex had just come into full view, and then how the idea itself made fresh wetness gather between my thighs as Mrs. Quinst’s eyes traveled over my exposed form with obvious hunger.
“Step out of everything,” she commanded, her voice husky with desire. “Except your collar, of course. That stays on always. You must remember that you aren’t the one in charge of your body.”
I obeyed with trembling legs, the panties finally freed from their degrading position. Standing completely naked except for my collar, I felt somehow more bare and revealed than I had even during my most intimate, degrading moments with Prince Hendren. There was something about being stripped by another woman, assessed and prepared for her pleasure, that struck me as fundamentally different from masculine dominance—as if my master and my Guardian, the men to whom I belonged, had delegated their ownership to my Mistress, and in the process deepened my abasement.
Mrs. Quinst moved to the bed, drawing back the crisp white covers to reveal more restraints, these already secured to the headboard and footboard. “Lie down on your back, Viola. Arms above your head.”
“Mistress, please,” I began, but she silenced me with a gentle finger to my lips.
“Hush, dear. These restraints aren’t meant to frighten you. They’re simply to help you learn to receive pleasure properly, without the distraction of trying to control the situation.”
I climbed onto the bed, every part of me seeming to quiver with anxiety and helpless need. The soft leather cuffs closed around my wrists, securing my arms above my head with just enough slack to allow slight movement. Mrs. Quinst’s touch remained gentle yet inexorable as she moved to my ankles, spreading my legs and fastening the restraints there as well.
“There,” she murmured with satisfaction, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re properly positioned for your lesson.”
My body laid spread over the white sheets as if in a display of sheer powerlessness. I tugged experimentally at the bonds, finding them secure, but not painful—surely meant, I realized with growing dread, for extended use.
“The first thing you must understand,” Mrs. Quinst said, beginning to undress with deliberate slowness, “is that pleasuring another woman requires patience and attention to detail. You can’t simply rush to completion as men sometimes do.”
Her navy dress slipped from her shoulders, revealing elegant lingerie beneath—a matching set in deep burgundy that emphasized her mature curves. I found myself staring despite my mortification, taking in the confident way she moved, the obvious pride she took in her body.
“Are you looking at me, Viola?” she asked with evident pleasure. “Good. You should study my body, learn what pleases a woman of experience.”
She continued undressing, each garment removed with a degree of theatricality that brought a little surge of heat to my cheeks as I considered how different my own undressing had been. When she finally stood naked except for her own collar—a more elaborate piece than mine, I noticed, marking her high status—I couldn’t deny a reluctant appreciation for her form. Years of disciplined self-maintenance had kept her figure trim and graceful.