Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 96271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“The Guard traces its origins to ancient Rome,” she continued, “though the current organization was founded after what they called, so quaintly, the War to End Wars. It considers itself the custodian of civilization.”
I heard the wax warmer’s small sound change. My ears strained to hear every little noise as if I could somehow use my knowledge to defend myself. I heard stirring, I thought, and then a shudder went through me as I felt the first application of warm wax against the crease of my left thigh, much too close to the center of my helpless, humiliating need.
“The women who serve the Guard belong, as I’ve said, to the Order of Ostia,” she said. “As I told you, I am a bellatrix of the Order. A warrior.” A pause in which I felt the wax being spread with the same methodical patience she brought to everything. “You are a columba. A dove. The lowest rank. The newest. The most in need of instruction.”
The cloth strip went down. I braced myself.
The strip came away and the pain was sharp and bright and immediate. I cried out into the leather, and my hips tried to pull forward. The restraints held me in position with a totality that reminded me, horribly, of the nymphobus’s hands.
“Hold still,” Giovanna said, her voice suddenly sharp.
I held still, thinking of the mastix with a thrill of fear. I breathed. The sting faded into a heat that was not entirely unpleasant, and I didn’t like that I’d noticed that.
“The Guard operates throughout the world,” she continued, applying fresh wax with the same unhurried efficiency. “In politics, in finance, in intelligence. Its members occupy positions of considerable power.” Another strip. Another bright, sharp removal. I whimpered and held still. “The Order serves the Guard’s male members. In various capacities. Some of them administrative. Some of them domestic.” A pause that I thought might have contained a fraction of something almost like amusement. “Above all, though, in more intimate ways: the women of the Order of Ostia are the submissive sexual servants of their Guard masters.”
She worked methodically, and the picture that emerged between the applications of wax was one of an organization so thoroughly embedded in the structures of the world I had been living in that it seemed impossible I had not encountered it before. But of course I hadn’t. That was the point of it. The Guard’s power depended on invisibility, on the elegant facade of the modeling agency and the tailored suit and the beautiful woman at the café who looked like she belonged in the pages of a fashion magazine.
The wax reached the center of my pussy and I stopped thinking about the Guard’s institutional history.
“Easy,” Giovanna said, in a tone that was almost gentle. “Be still, columba.”
I tried to be still. I tried with every effort of will I possessed, my face pressed into the leather that smelled of the women who had been still before me, and I breathed through the heat and the vulnerability of being bared in this way, stripped of the last little bit of my grown-up thatch.
“You may consider me your mistress,” Giovanna said, when she had finished with my pussy and I was crying quietly into the cushion as much from relief than pain. “For I am your mistress, and you will address me and obey me as such.” She smoothed something cool over the newly bare skin, a soothing pass of her palm that made me shiver. “But I am not the only authority over you, Ilsa. And I am not the most important one. Very soon you will have a master.”
So simple, and so anticipated, and yet the confirmation of it, and very soon… made my heart race and my stomach lurch with fear, even as in my newly bare pussy another helpless clench betrayed me.
“A master,” I repeated, into the leather. My voice came out muffled and very small.
“A powerful man,” Giovanna said, “to whom you will belong. You will still be in my service, but you will belong to him.” She moved behind me, and I heard the wax warmer’s soft metallic sound again, but she didn’t touch me yet. “I am your mistress. I will always be your mistress, in the sense that I began your training. But a mistress prepares. A master civilizes.”
I took my lower lip between my teeth. The word civilizes was doing something to me that I couldn’t account for inside any framework I possessed.
“That means,” Giovanna said, with an untiring patience that seemed to have some hypnotic effect on me, “that he will use your body for his pleasure. Systematically. With increasing sternness, as you learn to meet each previous demand and become ready for the next.” A pause. “He will train you to please him more and more, columba. That is what civilization is, at its root. The refinement of a thing into its best and most useful form.”