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)
“The First Minister of Euporia is particularly interested in meeting you,” he said. “He wrote a treatise on the inherent instability of female leadership decades ago. Your… current situation rather proves his point, wouldn’t you say?”
I bit back a retort, knowing it would only earn me punishment. Instead, I watched as Euporia grew larger in the viewport, a blue-green sphere marbled with white clouds. It looked peaceful, ordinary—the kind of world where I might once have conducted diplomatic negotiations as an equal. Now I would walk its surface as property.
The shuttle descended through the atmosphere, the cabin filling with the subtle vibrations of reentry. Prince Hendren placed his hand on my knee, a casual gesture of ownership that made me shiver despite the cabin’s warmth.
“You’re trembling,” he observed, his fingers tracing small circles on my skin. “Nervous about your diplomatic debut in your new role?”
“Please,” I whispered, unable to stop myself. “Must I be… like this? Couldn’t I wear something, just for the arrival?”
His hand stilled. “Even if I were willing to part with this important part of Magisterian tradition—the open display of a nobleman’s owned concubine—what you’re asking for is a privilege, Viola. Privileges must be earned.” His fingers dug into my flesh, just enough to hurt. “You haven’t earned anything yet.”
The shuttle banked, revealing a sprawling metropolis below—Euporia’s capital city. Unlike the organic, flowing architecture of Artemisia, everything here was ordered in precise geometric patterns. Even from this height, I could see the rigid organization of districts, the careful planning that must have gone into every aspect of the urban landscape.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Prince Hendren said, following my gaze. “A society built on natural order rather than chaotic equality. Men and women each in their proper roles.”
The shuttle slowed, hovering over what appeared to be a private landing pad attached to an imposing white building. The structure gleamed in the sunlight, its clean lines and precise angles seeming almost painful to my eyes. As we descended, I could see a welcoming party assembled on the platform—a dozen figures in formal attire, standing in a loose formation.
My heart hammered against my ribs. In moments, I would be paraded before these strangers, naked and collared. The reality of my situation came over me anew, and I fought to control my breathing.
“Remember,” Prince Hendren said softly, his lips close to my ear, “you represent the might of Magisteria now. Your submission reflects our power. Walk with grace, keep your eyes lowered unless instructed otherwise, and speak only when spoken to.”
The shuttle touched down with barely a tremor. As the engines powered down, Prince Hendren released my safety harness, his fingers lingering on the strap between my breasts.
“Stand,” he commanded.
My legs felt like water as I rose. The prince adjusted my posture with brusque efficiency, his strong hands moving my limbs into the posture he desired—shoulders back to display my breasts, hands clasped behind my back to emphasize my vulnerability, chin slightly lowered in deference.
“Perfect,” he murmured, stepping back to admire his work. “Now follow, three steps behind me.”
The shuttle door opened with a soft hiss, revealing the bright Euporian day. Prince Hendren strode forward with regal confidence while I followed, counting my steps carefully, painfully conscious of the cool air against my exposed skin and the eyes that would soon be upon me.
The sunlight hit me like a physical blow as I emerged onto the landing pad. After days in the artificial light of the Magisterian ship, the natural brightness made me squint. I could feel the warmth on my bare shoulders, my breasts, my newly smooth sex. The breeze caressed my naked body with intimate familiarity, as if the planet itself were claiming the right to touch me.
“Your Royal Highness,” a deep voice announced. “Euporia welcomes you and your… companion.”
I kept my eyes lowered, focusing on the polished white surface beneath my bare feet, but I could feel their collective gaze like a weight. The pause before ‘companion’ told me everything I needed to know about how they viewed me.
“First Minister Havelorn,” Prince Hendren replied warmly. “The pleasure is mine. May I present Viola Herranofar, former president of Artemisia, now serving the Federation as my personal concubine. She is to be addressed informally, by her first name, as an owned sexual servant.”
My cheeks burned at the introduction. The formal diplomatic phrasing—as if this were a normal state visit, as if I were still a dignitary rather than a possession—made the reality of my position all the more humiliating.
“Look up, Viola,” Prince Hendren commanded. “Greet our hosts.”
I raised my eyes slowly, forcing myself to meet the gaze of First Minister Havelorn. He was a tall, distinguished man with silver-streaked dark hair and keen gray eyes that assessed me with clinical interest. Behind him stood a row of officials—all men—in formal Euporian attire: crisp white tunics with blue sashes that denoted their governmental ranks.