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)
My breath caught as the implications sank in. Had my decision to stay been genuine self-sacrifice, or had some part of me craved exactly what had followed? The thought was too disturbing to fully process.
“This is why the egalitarian communities ultimately fail to satisfy women like yourselves,” Mistress Orela explained, moving back to her desk with practiced grace. “They offer equality, but equality cannot fill the need for surrender that exists in your very souls. They provide choices, but some women require the peace that comes only from having choices made for them by those they trust completely.”
I felt tears prick at my eyes as her words resonated with uncomfortable truth. The constant pressure of presidential decisions, the weight of responsibility for millions of lives, the endless burden of choice—had been exhausting in ways I’d never fully acknowledged. Now, wearing nothing but a simple, if obscene, uniform and knowing that every aspect of my existence was controlled by others, I felt a strange lightness despite my degradation.
“The Federation’s genius, like our own Good Way,” Mistress Orela continued, “lies not in forcing this recognition, but in creating systems that allow it to emerge naturally. The egalitarian worlds serve as proof that our methods work by choice rather than compulsion. Those who truly belong there can thrive in equality. Those who don’t…” She gestured toward us with elegant precision. “Eventually find their way to where they belong.”
In the Hall of Movement that afternoon, Mistress Nurana made us strip to our collars and then kneel on the mat-covered floor.
“Position three, ladies,” she commanded.
I couldn’t look at my fellow pupils as I remembered, and obeyed, sitting back on my heels, with my hands open on my thighs. It got much more embarrassing, then, because the physical education mistress began to inform us of our masters’ individual desires for our training. Looking down at our naked forms with an assessing eye, she consulted her handheld with the same detached interest we had come to expect from all our Academy mistresses.
“Your masters have provided very specific requirements for your final training phase,” she announced, her voice echoing in the spacious gymnasium. “Each of you will focus on developing the particular skills your owner values most highly.”
She gestured toward a series of stations that had been arranged around the room, each equipped with different implements that made my stomach clench with dread and shameful anticipation.
“Miss Morandra and Miss Reb,” Mistress Nurana continued, “your masters have expressed particular interest in your ability to accommodate anal penetration with grace and enthusiasm. You’ll be working with graduated training devices while maintaining arousal through manual stimulation.”
I watched Morandra’s composed facade crack slightly as she processed the crude instruction, while Reb’s face went a scalding red. Mistress Nurana pointed to a station where an array of increasingly large plugs waited on a pristine white towel, the largest specimens making me wince in sympathetic discomfort.
“You may crawl over there and resume position three as you familiarize yourself with the implements on the towel.”
“Miss Trellama,” Mistress Nurana’s attention shifted to the red-haired woman, “your master has requested sensitivity training for disciplinary purposes. You’ll be using adjustable clamps on your nipples while bringing yourself to climax repeatedly.”
Trellama’s hands moved instinctively to protect her breasts, but she caught herself and forced them back to her sides. The station she was directed to featured a pair of small metallic clamps, fastened to each other by a silver chain, their jaws gleaming under the gymnasium’s bright lights.
“Miss Lara and Miss Palla, your masters desire exceptional oral proficiency. You’ll be training with the throat-conditioning apparatus while maintaining arousal levels.”
My eyes followed their reluctant progress toward a station dominated by mechanical devices that looked disturbingly clinical. The machines featured adjustable arms topped with realistic phalluses, their apparatuses clearly designed to produce rhythmic thrusting when activated.
Finally, Mistress Nurana’s clinical gaze settled on me, and I felt my breath catch as I awaited whatever degrading specialization Prince Hendren had requested for my training.
“Miss Viola,” she said, consulting her handheld with the same detached professionalism, “His Royal Highness has very specific requirements for your internal muscular development. You’ll be working with a pressure measurement device to control and strengthen your vaginal contractions, so that you can grip a man’s penis on his command.”
CHAPTER 23
Viola
My cheeks burned as Mistress Nurana gestured toward the final station, where a sleek apparatus waited that looked dismayingly medical in its precision. The central component was unmistakably phallic, but its surface was covered with sensors and measurement devices that gleamed under the harsh gymnasium lighting.
“Your master desires you to be able to pleasure his manhood with an exceptionally tight cunny,” Mistress Nurana continued with matter-of-fact brutality. “The device will measure the pressure of your internal contractions while you maintain arousal. You’ll practice bearing down rhythmically until you can achieve the specific measurements he’s requested.”