Page 89 of Shamefully Trained

I went still.

My hand slipped away from my sex. My other hand dropped from my bottom. I lay there panting in the quiet of my lovely apartment, feeling my own wetness cooling on my thighs, hearing the terrible little sounds of recovery in my breathing.

Then memory returned all at once.

What I had said… how I had moved… what I had offered.

How completely I had disgraced myself… if my sponsor had indeed been watching.

A sound of misery escaped me before I could stop it. I pulled the nightgown down at once, absurdly trying to cover myself after everything. I rolled onto my back and then sat up too quickly, panic surging through me now that the arousal had quenched itself.

“Sir?” I whispered into the room. “Porter?”

Nothing.

The silence made it worse. It left room for hope, which left room for dread.

“Oh, God,” I said, and this time I meant it in an entirely different way. “Please… please, if you saw that…”

My throat tightened. Tears rushed to my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the room. “Please have mercy on me. Please. I know I disobeyed. I know what you said. I’m sorry.”

For three awful seconds nothing happened.

Then the speaker came alive.

The sound of his voice nearly stopped my heart.

“Thank you for the performance, Alex.”

I made a helpless little cry and clapped a hand over my mouth.

He continued in the same calm tone he might have used to discuss a car service or a dinner reservation. “You were quite explicit.”

I could barely breathe. “Sir… please…”

“You knew the consequences,” he said. “You have been warned clearly more than once. Since you chose to ignore the rule, you will be caned without mercy tomorrow night. I intend that you learn your lesson properly.”

CHAPTER 28

Alex

When sleep finally found me, I got little rest. I dreamed almost at once, and the dream had the stark vividness of something my body had been waiting all day to stage for me.

I stood in the hideaway office in the Capitol building: the place where my life had taken its humiliating left turn, thanks to Gowry’s hard cock and his horrid belt. Dark wood. Leather. Flags in one corner. A bank of windows looking out over gray winter light.

The asshole senator himself stood near his desk with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, broad and implacable, watching me with the arrogant, appraising gaze I remembered much too well. Porter stood beside me with a cane in his hand.

I wore nothing at all.

My hair fell over my shoulders, my scalp tingled with shame, and both men could see how wet I was because my need dripped down my thigh. Porter’s hand closed on the back of my neck and guided me forward with complete certainty.

“Bend over the senator’s desk,” he said.

In the dream I obeyed at once.

The immediate way my body complied, as if all the struggle had been driven out of me and only obedience remained, terrified me, even in the dream. I felt the polished wood under my palms. I heard the tiny sounds my body made against the hard surface as I leaned over. I heard my own breathing. Then I felt Porter’s fingers on my ass, lifting slightly, probing, tugging.