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)
“Mistress Orela,” Prince Hendren replied with a slight bow. “Of course I remember. May I again present Viola, my concubine, this time formally, and for your instruction.”
The formal introduction made my cheeks burn. To be presented like a possession, handed over for training as if I were a misbehaving pet to this woman who had already proven herself so very odious, struck me as somehow worse than all the intimate degradations I had already endured.
“Of course, Your Highness. She will be well cared for.” Mistress Orela’s gaze swept over my simple dress—the only clothing Prince Hendren had permitted me for the journey. “Come, Viola. Your education begins immediately. Your Royal Highness will follow her progress closely, I know, as you said last night. I will also consult your preferences for your concubine’s training as appropriate.”
“As I mentioned last night, Viola has had a Prosperian governor installed,” the prince said. “Would it be of use during her Academy training?”
“Very much, Your Royal Highness,” Mistress Orela replied with a smile. “In fact, the Euporian council will soon debate the wisdom of a pilot program here to see whether Euporian women would benefit from having governors to help them control themselves, and please their husbands more fully. If I understand correctly, you’re able to transfer control of Viola’s governor to me?”
“That’s right,” Prince Hendren said, nodding. He took his handheld from his breast pocket. “I must say that her cunny seems extremely… amenable, shall we say… to the governor’s control. Indeed I was rather surprised last night by the results.”
I felt like I might actually vanish into the ground, or simply evanesce from the face of the planet. My forehead had creased so hard it hurt, and my eyes had fixed themselves on Mistress Orela’s sensible black shoes. Worst of all, as I remembered how brutally my master had used me the previous night, my pussy clenched between my thighs.
To my horror, the device in Prince Hendren’s hand beeped.
“Ah,” he said. “Viola’s cunny just clenched. Such a little whore. I’ve set her governor not to impede her pleasure, but you may wish to turn it down.”
I bit my lip, but a tiny whimper escaped my throat.
Mistress Orela had her own handheld in her hand now. “We will teach her at least a modicum of self-control, certainly,” she said. “Perhaps the governor will help with that.” She studied the screen of her device. “Ah, yes.” She tapped. “Thank you, I believe I now have control of the governor.”
She put her finger to the screen again, and moved it downward. I couldn’t keep from another humiliating little whimper as I felt the sensation in my pussy dampen.
“There we go,” she said. “We’ll leave you there at three for a while. You should be able to concentrate better, Viola.” She turned to Prince Hendren. “She was enjoyable for you last night, I gather? She took you well in her anus?”
“Oh, powers,” I whispered, as my face became scalding hot and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.
My master replied as if I weren’t there.
“Very well,” he said with a smile. “I’m sizable, and it was uncomfortable for her, of course, but the cane did the trick in securing me my rights. Her bottom is heavenly on the cock.”
I had no idea how much more I could take of their degrading conversation before I simply died of shame, but at last Prince Hendren turned to face me, his eyes boring into mine. “Two weeks,” he said simply. “When I return, I expect to find a very different woman.”
He leaned down to kiss my forehead, a gesture that might have seemed tender if not for the circumstances. Then he was gone, striding back toward the waiting transport, leaving me alone with Mistress Orela.
“Follow me,” she commanded, her voice crisp and authoritative.
I trailed behind her through corridors lined with portraits of stern-looking men and demurely posed women. The Academy’s interior matched its exterior—everything clean, ordered, and precisely maintained. We passed several closed doors from behind which I could hear the murmur of voices, though I couldn’t make out words.
“You’ll be joining five other students,” Mistress Orela explained as we walked. “All women who require… adjustment to their natural roles. Some are volunteers from progressive worlds who found equality unsatisfying. Others, like yourself, are reformation cases.”
We stopped before a door marked ‘Preparation Room.’ Mistress Orela opened it, revealing a space that looked part classroom, part medical facility. Several wardrobes lined one wall, while examination tables and mirrors occupied the center.
“Strip,” she ordered abruptly.
The command hit me like a physical blow. I had expected this moment, but the casual efficiency of it still caught me off guard. My hands trembled as I reached for the clasps of my purple shift dress, the magnetic fasteners coming apart with soft clicks.
“Quickly now,” Mistress Orela said, consulting a tablet she had produced from her pocket. “We have a schedule to maintain.”