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Yes, as I told her, I would take my time breaking her bottom in. On the other hand, gentleness only went so far, in training a girl to receive her master in that most intimate of places.
“Answer the doctor, my dear,” I told her, putting a note of steel into my tone. “Do you see? Doesn’t it feel good to have a man’s finger in your bottom-hole?”
Sara’s body gave a violent shudder. I watched her close her eyes again, and then open them; a good deal longer than a simple blink—so the reopening and the shift of focus to my face that followed must have come through one of those sudden delicious waves of alarm for her backside. I took pride in instilling that essential reaction: a mere two punishments thus far had brought it about.
Quick and decisive consequences, I had always found, worked best: in each instance I had followed up my threat with remorseless discipline that nearly crossed into excess. As Sara herself could see in the mirror, the wooden paddle had left ample evidence of her just reward for foul language. Already the beneficial disciplinary effect of those consequences had begun to make itself known—the lovely girl had started to act in a generally obedient way in the most basic reflexes of her body.
She bit her lip, her brow furrowing adorably, and I could tell her mind was searching desperately for some way to obey without fully accepting my authority over her. Finally, she whispered, as if hoping the very softness of the response would detract from the fact of her uttering the humiliating answer.
“Yes, sir.”
Then, to my delight, she showed that captivating spirit that had begun to make its way into my heart. She spoke again, a little louder, her eyes looking straight into mine.
“But… but I don’t like it.”
* * *
Sara
The doctor laughed, and his laugh shook his finger inside my bottom so that I couldn’t help emitting an involuntary little whimper of forced pleasure.
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “That’s hardly the point.”
Again the little word, “But,” emerged from my mouth. It had sounded stupid and weak before—and it had sent another echo of the sting from the paddle through me as I flicked my gaze nervously to the too-handsome face of Major Harrow. I knew instinctively that my guardian wouldn’t have much patience for my personal misgivings about what the Magisterians had planned; he had demonstrated that amply already.
This secondbutsounded even more feeble, since I had nothing at all concrete with which to follow it. The only words that came to mind—But you have to care about my feelings!—seemed absolutely nonsensical in the circumstances. As if Major Harrow had listened to my wishes concerning the way he treated me. As if I hadaskedto be taken from home, stripped naked, and trained as a sexual servant for the pleasure of him and whoever…
I shook my head. They couldn’t, they justcouldn’t. Itmatteredwhether I liked having a man’s finger in my anus: it had to. It mattered whether I wanted them to… to sell me.
My hips jerked as I underwent another of the humiliating aftershocks the horrible clitoral calibrator had caused. I felt tears again begin to trickle from the corners of my eyes as the memory of how the doctor had snatched away that release from me just before it had taken hold.
My eyes locked on Major Harrow’s. I had just complied with his command to answer the doctor. Wouldn’t that make him a little softer, a little more gentle with me? His face had gotten serious, though.
“You’ll install the governor now, I expect, Doctor,” he said, without shifting his attention, his gaze still searching me out so that I felt faint for a moment as much under the sheer weight of that attention as at the reminder about the awful Prosperian device.
Doctor Greenway nodded. I shuddered as he took the finger away from my anus at last. My attention went involuntarily to the mirror, where I saw his other hand move to a tray just at the edge of my field of view. I watched him extend a finger to a little dish that seemed empty and touch a spot on its bare white surface.
“Ingenious little things,” he said, clearly directing his remark to Major Harrow. “I can just barely see it, but it’s designed to sense my finger and cling to my skin, then to let go when in close enough proximity to a girl’s clitoris and find its way to the precise spot where it needs to go.”
I took the inside of my cheek between my teeth and chewed, trying desperately to concentrate on that sensation. I bit down hard so that I had a sharper feeling there, trying to distract myself. I watched the doctor bring his hand up from the tray and I followed the gesture out of the mirror upward, to see him hold his finger in front of the major’s face.
“Do you have sharp eyes, Major?” he asked. “I can’t make it out without my lenses, but there’s a tiny inscription there—it’s something Prosperian husbands generally do, putting their monograms on their brides’ governors.”
Major Harrow chuckled as he looked at the thing on the doctor’s finger, still invisible to me. I heard myself let out an involuntary snort of air through my nostrils, half of a gasp I tried to forbid my body from making.
“Show Sara,” the major said. “I bet her eyes are sharp enough to see it.”
The doctor brought his fingertip close to my face, and I could see it at last, the horrid device about which I had read despite myself. No bigger than the head of one of the ancient pins people had once used to hold cloth together, with short, nearly invisible wires underneath that I knew would make their way into my clit without causing harm or even pain. And on its slightly shiny, purple-tinted surface, words in an impossibly tiny but still legible script that I could barely make out.
Property of Magisteria
“Oh…” I said, as I understood. “No… you…”
“What, Sara?” the major asked. “We what? You may speak freely, if you like.”
I looked up from the speck of a device that would violate my autonomy with such terrible thoroughness, and yet in such a simple manner. I expected to see amusement in his eyes but instead I saw a serious desire to… tohelpme. I couldn’t speak, though, just shake my head weakly.
“I imagine you meant to say that we can’t do this to you. Is that right?”
