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I opened my eyes and shook my head, not understanding—but knowing it could only mean something unwelcome: some part of the ordeal the doctor had promised. Then I recalled the thing Major Harrow had said right before he had started to paddle me.
Oh, no. No, no, no. Not that. Not a…
“Certainly, Major,” the doctor said. “My consent can be based on my observations of Sara’s suitability for concubine service thus far, and my review of her records.”
“Wait…” I cried. “I… I object!”
I saw that the doctor held a tablet, and had already started to trace his finger across its surface to sign whatever form the Magisterians used to consign girls to sexual service.
“I’m afraid, Sara,” Doctor Greenway replied, “that citizens of subjugated states aren’t permitted any objection in these circumstances. It’s my medical opinion that you’re basically healthy, though I’ll still have to conduct some additional assessments to calibrate your sexual training. More important, in my judgment, you are entirely suited to undergo that training. A few years of careful, regular use by your master, even use of the most vigorous kind, will do you a great deal of good.”
I stared at him. He had his eyes fixed on the tablet as he signed it, and his face wore a tolerant expression, as if he were disappointed in my failure to see immediately the benefit to me in sexual service to a… a…
Master.He had saidmaster.Notguardian.
My eyes went to Major Harrow, whose attention I saw, had remained fixed on my face even as he rubbed the paddle against my burning bottom. He wore that little smile that drove me so crazy, as if he derived some special, private enjoyment from watching me learn with more and more precision just how much degradation the federation meant to make me suffer.
Heat rushed into my cheeks as my eyes met his. I watched him lower his gaze, as if to observe how the paddle looked against the bright red shade he had turned my backside—as if to compare, I suddenly thought, the color of my face’s cheeks to the rosy hue of the punished globes of my bottom.
My own eyes went between my slightly parted legs, still held up by his enormous hand, and to my dismay I, too, could see a little of that red color, just as I could see my pussy, its coral lips lewdly visible through my yellow curls. I closed my eyes as the heat in my face redoubled, and—much, much worse—a wanton warmth down there once again mirrored it.
“There, Major,” the doctor said. “You are now officially her guardian under Magisterian law.”
But not my master?What did it mean?
“Look at me, Sara,” said the major’s deep voice.
I opened my eyes, my lips parting with the increasing shallowness and rapidity of my breath. He had returned his attention to my face, and his expression made my heart rate jump; the smile remained, but his eyes had narrowed, too. He seemed to search me, to assess me, as if he wanted to discover exactly what pleasure he might get from me.
“Doctor,” he said, without breaking his eye contact with me. “Would you take the paddle, please? Lieutenant, you’re dismissed.”
I heard them obeying his polite orders, but I couldn’t look away to see the doctor putting the horrid punishment implements back on my dresser, or Lieutenant Withers leaving the state bedroom. I could only look at Major Harrow, my—oh, no—guardian.
A guardian is supposed to keep someone safe… to… toguardthem. Me. To guard me.
Guard… keep… teach… train…
My brain seemed able only to think of verbs, each of them more distressing, more helplessly arousing, than the last.
The paddle had gone away. My raised legs, in the humiliating diaper position, still displayed my thoroughly disciplined bottom and my terribly warm pussy.
The major spoke, gently and slowly, as if to a valuable animal whose training he had just begun.
“I’m going to touch you now, Sara,” he said. “I’m going to touch you where you need your guardian’s hand the most.”
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Please… not… not there.”
He nodded slowly.
Where was his hand? The one that had held the paddle? The… thefirmone. It had spanked me… it had paddled me…
I cried out softly as it touched me… two fingers, very gently. Two fingertips, rubbing downward from my tingling clit to the place that felt open and empty.
My hips responded in the most embarrassing way possible: they bucked up from the chair as far as my muscles could make them move, desperately thrusting my pussy toward that softly caressing hand, begging it… begginghim, without words, to do whatever he wished to me, down there.
“Please don’t allow her to climax, Major,” the doctor said. “It’s best if she’s quite aroused when I install the governor.”
I gave another cry, this one of mingled surprise and need. His voice had come from directly in front of me, and I tore my gaze away from the major’s face to see, in the narrow window between my knees, that Doctor Greenway stood a few feet away observing my new guardian’s mortifying training methods.
