Page 95 of Shamefully Trained

I let the words hang there. Gowry said nothing, but his attention intensified almost palpably.

“Tell him properly,” I said. “Where.”

“In my apartment.”

“Wearing what?”

“A… an… um… a green babydoll nightgown… he… Porter… I mean, my sponsor… he told me to wear it.”

“The senator deserves the details, I think. How did you begin?”

She let out a tiny breath through her nose. I watched the struggle in her and felt, against my own better instincts, the same harsh fascination I had felt watching the feed from California. Alex seemed to have a way of becoming more herself the more completely I drew her into her shame.

“I…” Her cheeks flamed hotter. “I was on the bed. I put my hand between my legs… over… you know, over the nightgown first.”

“Then?”

“Then… um… under it.” Her voice had gone quieter. “I touched my… my… my cunt.”

Gowry’s gaze moved over her with brutal directness now, and I saw Alex register it. I thought I could even see a part of her congratulate herself for having used such a hot, filthy word in the senator’s presence. From behind, I saw her bottom tense, as if she had just squeezed, down there, helpless to control her naughtiness.

“Don’t omit the interesting parts,” I said.

She shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I was very wet.”

“From what?” I led her onward. “What were you thinking about?”

Her voice came out small and strained. “Being… being… punished.”

“More specifically, Alex. Senator Gowry should know the whole situation, don’t you think?”

“I was… I was thinking about being…” Her voice got even lower. “Being caned by… by my sponsor.”

* * *

Alex

It seemed cosmically unfair that it should arouse me so much to be humiliated this way, but I could no longer deny it.

My throat worked.

I could feel Gowry’s eyes on me, and Porter’s, and the memory of my own body on that bed in the green babydoll seemed to flare inside me, not as a memory but as something like a porn video, with myself as the slutty star.

“I touched my clit,” I said, and even that made my face burn harder. “At first just lightly. Then… you know… harder.”

Porter’s tone remained maddeningly calm. “And after that?”

I knew what he wanted: what part of the story he thought most worth sharing with Gowry, but I couldn’t seem to get there, as humiliating as the process of having it drawn out of me had already become. “I… I spread my legs.”

“Why?”

I saw it in my head. The girl in the green nightgown, on the bed, wanted to be seen. She wanted to do dirty enough things to earn the cane. She wanted her sponsor to look at her and know what he had made of her. But I couldn’t say that with Gowry there, his hand still resting with infuriating casualness on my hip as if my body were on loan to him.

“So I could touch myself better,” I whispered.

“That’s incomplete.”

The room seemed to narrow. I had the crazy feeling that if I looked anywhere but at Porter I might simply dissolve from shame. “I… I touched my ass too.”