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)
“Go on,” Mistress Orela encouraged, as if sensing victory.
“Perhaps…” I forced the words out, hating myself for speaking them, “perhaps there is wisdom in recognizing one’s limitations.”
The admission tasted like ash in my mouth, but I saw satisfaction flicker in Mistress Orela’s eyes. Around me, my classmates watched with expressions ranging from sympathy to something like relief—as if my capitulation somehow validated their own.
“An excellent beginning,” Mistress Orela said. “Personal reflection is the first step toward genuine transformation. Miss Morandra, since you seem so eager to contribute today, please continue reading from where Miss Palla left off.”
Morandra shifted carefully in her seat, obviously still in pain from her earlier punishment. Her voice was steady as she read, but I caught the slight tremor that betrayed her ongoing discomfort.
“The Guardian–Mistress system provides optimal feminine development through structured guidance and loving correction,” she began. “Each woman benefits from both masculine strength and feminine wisdom, creating a comprehensive educational environment that addresses all aspects of proper behavior.”
I found myself listening intently despite my revulsion at the concepts being presented. The very idea of being placed under the control of a married couple, subject to both a man’s dominance and a woman’s guidance in submission, sent conflicting signals through my nervous system. Terror and anticipation warred within me as I imagined what such an arrangement might entail.
“The Guardian provides discipline and sexual instruction,” Morandra continued, her voice becoming smaller with each word, “while the Mistress offers emotional support and practical training in domestic arts. This dual authority ensures that no aspect of feminine development is neglected.”
Mistress Orela nodded approvingly. “Precisely. The system recognizes that women require both firm masculine guidance and nurturing feminine mentorship. You ladies will experience this firsthand beginning tomorrow evening.”
My stomach clenched. “Tomorrow?”
“You will spend tonight in the dormitory, but tomorrow you will each have your first night with your Guardian and your Mistress. They will come to fetch you in the afternoon.” She made eye contact with each of us in turn, an infuriatingly knowing smile on her lips. “Alright, ladies. That will do for your classroom learning for the morning. It’s time for you to move on to your physical education session.”
We followed Mistress Orela through corridors that seemed to wind endlessly through the Academy’s interior, our Mary Jane shoes clicking in unison against the polished marble floors. The sound created an oddly hypnotic rhythm that seemed to emphasize our collective subjugation.
“Physical education is just as important as the more abstract knowledge we’ve begun exploring in the classroom,” Mistress Orela explained as we walked. “Our program emphasizes grace, flexibility, and cooperative movement.”
We arrived at a set of double doors, and Mistress Orela pushed them open, revealing a spacious room with polished wooden floors and mirrored walls. Exercise equipment lined the perimeter: weight machines and treadmills, but also ballet barres, yoga mats arranged in precise rows, and what appeared to be specialized furniture designed for stretching and positioning.
“Ladies, meet Mistress Nurana, your physical education instructor,” Mistress Orela announced.
A woman in her thirties stepped forward, her auburn hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. She wore form-fitting exercise attire that accentuated her athletic build, and her green eyes assessed us with the same clinical interest we had come to expect from Academy staff.
“Welcome, girls,” Mistress Nurana said, her voice carrying a slight accent I couldn’t place. “Physical conditioning is essential to proper feminine development. A woman’s body must be both pleasing to observe and capable of the flexibility her Guardian and her husband will require.”
The implications of her words sent heat rushing through me again. I glanced at my classmates and saw similar reactions—Palla’s face had flushed pink, while Trellama seemed to be fighting tears.
“Remove your clothing,” Mistress Nurana commanded matter-of-factly. “Everything except your collars. Fold your garments neatly and place them in the designated cubicles.”
The order hit me like a physical blow. After the brief reprieve of being clothed, even in this degrading schoolgirl uniform, the prospect of nudity in front of my classmates felt overwhelming. But I had learned the cost of hesitation from watching Morandra’s punishment.
With trembling fingers, I began unbuttoning my white blouse. Around me, the other women were doing the same, their movements hesitant, but compliant. When I stepped out of my white cotton panties, the cool air against my bare sex reminded me sharply of my depilated state. I felt utterly revealed, more humiliated somehow than I had even during the reception at the embassy. Perhaps it was the intimacy of being naked among women who shared my circumstances, or perhaps it was the knowledge that this was only the beginning of more invasive humiliations to come.
“Excellent,” Mistress Nurana said, surveying our naked forms with professional detachment. “Now you’ll each receive a support garment designed specifically for our physical education program.”
She moved to a cabinet and withdrew what appeared to be transparent breast halters—gossamer-thin material that would provide minimal coverage while emphasizing rather than concealing our breasts. As she handed them out, I noticed with a mixture of fascination and horror that every woman in the class had been depilated just as I had. The uniformity of our bare sexes created an oddly compelling visual that made me acutely aware of my own nakedness.