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 embassy staff we passed—guards, clerks, diplomatic aides—all stopped their activities to watch our procession. Some maintained professional composure, but I caught glimpses of curiosity, sympathy, and in a few cases what looked disturbingly like anticipation.
“Keep your head up, Viola,” Prince Hendren murmured as we walked. “You represent more than yourself now. Show them dignity in submission.”
I forced myself to straighten my spine despite the awkward position of my arms, trying to project the bearing of someone accepting necessary correction rather than a broken prisoner. The effort felt both futile and essential—I was completely naked and bound, about to be brutally punished before an audience, yet somehow my master’s words made me want to do this with grace.
We passed through a heavy wooden door into bright morning sunlight. The punishment yard was larger than I had expected, a rectangular space surrounded by stone walls topped with decorative iron spikes. Tiered seating had been arranged along two sides, already filling with what appeared to be embassy staff, local dignitaries, and media representatives. At the center of the yard stood an apparatus that made my breath catch in my throat.
The punishment frame stood in stark contrast to the ornate Academy equipment I had grown accustomed to during my training. This apparatus served a single, brutal purpose—to position the penitent for maximum exposure while ensuring she couldn’t escape the correction she deserved. A horizontal bar, positioned at waist height, dominated the center of the device. Below it, metal supports waited to secure my feet in place, while above, restraint points would hold my hands steady as the cane did its work.
“The design is intentionally minimal,” Prince Hendren explained as we approached, his voice carrying clearly to both the assembled witnesses and the broadcast audience. “Unnecessary padding or concealment would compromise the educational value of the correction.”
I could see faces in the tiered seating now—Mistress Orela sat in the front row with her usual composed expression, while beside her Mistress Nurana watched with clinical interest. My fellow pupils from the Academy occupied the next row back, their faces showing the same mixture of sympathy and morbid fascination I had felt when watching others face discipline. Palla’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap, while Morandra leaned forward with scholarly attention despite the obvious distress in her dark eyes.
Colonel and Mrs. Quinst sat with military bearing in the diplomatic section, their presence a reminder of how my training had prepared me for this moment. The sight of them sent an unexpected pang of gratitude through me—they had helped shape me into someone who could endure what was coming.
“Position the penitent,” Prince Hendren commanded.
The sergeant-at-arms guided me toward the frame with firm hands. The horizontal bar pressed against my hips as he positioned me, forcing me to bend forward at the waist. My bound hands were released momentarily, only to be secured to restraint points that kept my arms stretched wide, my fingers unable to provide any protection for what was to come. When he fastened the supports around my ankles, spreading my legs wide for stability, I realized with burning shame that my bare pussy was now completely exposed to everyone in the yard.
“These restraints are for your own protection,” the sergeant-at-arms explained in his formal tone as he tightened the bonds. “The pain may cause involuntary movements that could result in injury.”
The leather straps bit into my wrists and ankles with unforgiving force, holding me so securely that I could barely shift my weight. I felt my backside elevated, positioned in the too-familiar way I could never seem to get used to—presented for punishment like an offering to the watching crowd. The morning air moved across my exposed flesh, making me acutely aware of every inch of skin that would soon bear the cane’s kiss.
Prince Hendren moved to stand beside the frame, the judicial cane resting across his palms as he addressed the assembled witnesses. His voice carried the authority of centuries of Magisterian tradition.
“What you witness today represents the culmination of our most fundamental principles,” he began, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. “For over a millennium, the Magisterian Federation has maintained order through recognition of natural hierarchies. Today’s correction demonstrates the importance of complete feminine submission.”
CHAPTER 27
Viola
My master paused, allowing his words to settle over the assembled crowd before continuing. “The subject’s nudity serves multiple purposes beyond mere humiliation. Magisterian law requires that nothing interfere with the administration of justice—no clothing to cushion the blow, no barriers between correction and flesh. More important, nakedness strips away the artificial constructs of rank and status that might otherwise cloud judgment. Before the cane, a former president is no different from any other wayward woman requiring guidance.”
I felt my cheeks burn as his explanation reduced my exposure to legal necessity, though I knew millions across the galaxy were hearing the same justification for my degradation.