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)
“Viola,” Palla whispered finally, her voice barely audible in the darkness. “What Solamo said tonight… about you being a symbol. Do you think others will try the same thing?”
I turned my head slightly, seeing the worry etched across her features. “Prince Hendren seems to think so. He said the Vionian remnant won’t give up easily.”
Morandra shifted restlessly, her academic mind clearly working through the implications. “They’ll keep trying to use you as a martyr figure, won’t they? A former president reduced to… to what we’ve become. It’s powerful propaganda.”
“But that’s just it,” Palla said urgently, propping herself up as much as the restraints allowed. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want that, Viola? Don’t want to be rescued from all this? Because if part of you does…”
The question hung in the air between us. I felt my throat tighten as I considered her words, the honest uncertainty they reflected. “I don’t want it,” I said firmly, but even as the words left my lips, I wondered if they were entirely true. Some buried part of me still remembered the dignity of leadership, still yearned for the respect I had once commanded.
“What did the prince tell you before we left?” Morandra asked softly. “You looked terrified when you got in the transport.”
I swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up my neck as I recalled his words. “He said… he said there would need to be something more demanding. More public than tonight. To prove definitively that I’ve surrendered to his authority.”
Palla’s intake of breath was audible. “More public than what you did tonight? But half the planet’s elite saw you…”
“What do you think he meant?” Morandra asked hesitantly, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.
I closed my eyes, my body beginning to tremble as I voiced the fear that had been growing since his words. “I think… I think it might mean terrible punishment. Public discipline. Something that would be broadcast, maybe throughout the Federation.”
The image formed unbidden in my mind—myself bound and helpless before cameras, subjected to whatever humiliation Prince Hendren deemed necessary to crush any remaining symbol of resistance I might represent. To my absolute horror, the thought sent a bolt of molten heat straight through my core.
My bottom began to squirm against the mattress involuntarily, my thighs clenching as shameful arousal flooded my system. The more I tried to push the images away, the more vivid they became—my body displayed and punished before millions…, my offered backside, bound in place, savagely whipped… my submission transmitted across the galaxy as proof of my complete surrender. The shameful heat building between my legs seemed to pulse with each imagined scenario of public discipline.
“Viola?” Palla’s worried voice seemed to come from very far away. “Are you all right? You’re breathing strangely.”
I tried to force my body to stillness, but the images wouldn’t stop coming. Prince Hendren’s hands positioning me for punishment while cameras recorded every moment of my degradation. My cries echoing through speakers as millions watched a former president reduced to a sobbing, penitent concubine. It seemed I could never get past my terrible weakness: the thought of such complete humiliation should have filled me with revulsion, but instead it sent waves of unwelcome need crashing through me.
Then, suddenly, I felt the familiar sensation of the governor activating between my thighs: a little tingle, and then a coolness. The building pleasure that had been spiraling out of control was abruptly dampened, the urgent throbbing reduced to a manageable warmth. My breathing gradually steadied as the device regulated my body’s responses with clinical precision.
He’s watching, I realized with a mixture of shame and strange comfort. Even now, even here in the dormitory surrounded by my fellow students, Prince Hendren was monitoring my responses through the governor’s data feed. He had seen my arousal spike at the thought of public punishment and had chosen to intervene, controlling my pleasure with the same authority he exercised over every other aspect of my existence.
To my amazement, instead of feeling violated by this intrusion, I felt profoundly grateful. The governor’s intervention had saved me from the mortifying experience of becoming aroused in front of Palla and Morandra while fantasizing about my own degradation. More than that, it reminded me that I wasn’t alone in navigating these shameful desires—my master was there, guiding even my most private responses.
“I’m fine,” I whispered to Palla, my voice steadier now. “Just… processing everything that happened tonight.”
The cool of the governor’s gentle regulation seemed to spread through my entire body, carrying with it a sense of security I hadn’t expected. Prince Hendren’s control over my pleasure wasn’t just about domination—it was about protection, about ensuring I didn’t lose myself completely to needs I couldn’t manage alone.
As the device continued its subtle work, I felt my eyelids growing heavy. The tension that had kept me rigid with arousal gradually melted away, replaced by a drowsy contentment that seemed to emanate from the very core of my being. My master was watching over me, controlling even this, and somehow that knowledge brought peace rather than resentment.