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)
The venue proved as opulent as I had expected. The Euporian Cultural Center’s main hall had been transformed into an elegant showcase, with small groups of men in formal attire circulating among displays that would have scandalized less enlightened societies. Here, they represented the pinnacle of civilized achievement—the successful domestication of feminine willfulness into proper submission and the harnessing of women’s intellect to the constructive purposes of advancing civilization.
I paused at the entrance to survey the scene with a connoisseur’s eye. Each Guardian couple had arranged their pupil as they thought would best present her compliance, the young women positioned to demonstrate both their beauty and their training. Some knelt beside their temporary masters, others stood with practiced poise, but all wore the same essential uniform—a cloak that could be opened at any man’s discretion to reveal a lovely body, clad only in a tiny, lacy pair of panties that revealed much more than they concealed.
“Your Royal Highness!” Colonel Quinst’s voice carried across the marble floor as he approached with military precision, his wife at his side and a familiar figure following behind them. “Here you see our pupil, Viola Herranofar, in her first public appearance since beginning Academy training. We will be happy to present her to you, should you find her pleasing.”
Viola
My breath caught as I gazed at Prince Hendren’s feet, shod in gorgeous black leather dress boots. In my mind’s eye, I saw his handsome face, his penetrating eyes, taking in the sight of his concubine transformed.
“Shall I open her cloak for you?” Colonel Quinst asked. I felt my forehead crease hard and I took my lower lip between my teeth to keep myself from letting out a humiliating whimper.
I knew that the simple white lace panties in which Mistress Orela had dressed me emphasized rather than concealed my feminine curves. When she had draped the dark blue cloak around my shoulders, I had almost persuaded myself that no man would dare part its lapels. In the mirror, it had given me a regal bearing despite her state of undress. I had thought: I am a leader, a president again. My dark hair, arranged in a sophisticated style, recalled my days in power, too. I had simply tried to forget the collar at my throat that left no doubt about my current status.
“Magnificent work, Colonel,” I heard His Royal Highness say, allowing his appreciation to show in my voice. “May I open the cloak myself?”
“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” Colonel Quinst replied with evident satisfaction. “She may have been skittish before, but now Viola has been trained to accept such inspection with proper grace.”
I felt Prince Hendren’s fingers brush against the lapels of the cloak, and my entire body trembled with anticipation and mortification. The memory of his hands on my skin, the way he had claimed every inch of me during our nights together, sent an unwelcome need through my limbs, one the public setting only seemed to intensify.
“Look at me, Viola,” he commanded softly, his voice carrying that familiar authority that made my knees weak.
I raised my eyes slowly, meeting his icy gaze as he began to part the cloak’s lapels. The fabric whispered against my skin as the prince moved it aside, revealing my barely clad form to his appreciative assessment. The white lace panties felt impossibly scandalous under his penetrating stare, the delicate material doing nothing to preserve my modesty.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands tracing the edge of the cloak where it framed my exposed curves. “The Academy has only enhanced what already seemed perfect.”
Around us, I could feel the attention of other guests drawn to our tableau. Powerful men paused their conversations to observe how a Magisterian prince inspected his prized concubine, their own wives standing with downcast eyes in similar states of elegant undress. The weight of their collective gaze made my cheeks burn with shame even as my body responded with that familiar, treacherous need.
“Tell me, Colonel,” Prince Hendren continued, never taking his eyes from my trembling form, “how did she respond to your particular methods of instruction? I was able to observe from a distance, but remote viewing only goes so far. I’d appreciate hearing your firsthand impressions.”
“Your bed servant complied with notable enthusiasm once Mrs. Quinst and I had addressed her resistance properly,” Colonel Quinst replied with professional pride. “She proved quite receptive to both feminine and masculine guidance. The cunt and anus both proved extremely pleasurable, and I know Betty found the mouth delightful after a bit of a tutorial.”
How can they talk about me… about my body… that way? a part of me still wanted to know.
Frank… obscene… degrading. But I knew how, and why. For their own enjoyment—and, more dismaying, with a canny eye for training me to accept the response their humiliation evoked in that same body. My exposed nipples had hardened and wetness had gathered between my thighs as Prince Hendren’s possessive gaze traveled over every inch of my exposed skin. Their coarse words had brought that arousal to such a pitch that I felt, more than heard, a tiny humming whimper escape through my nose.