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“Yes, actually,” I told George. “I think I’d like to have her in lingerie tonight. White lace, if you can manage it.”
The lieutenant nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Very Prosperian,” he said. “Yes. I see where you’re going with this.”
Like most Magisterian men, I had as a rule favored simple garments when choosing clothes for my concubines—when they were allowed to dress at all, which, as with nearly all sexual servants on Magisteria, was seldom. I had owned the indentures of three young women thus far in my life, and I had never permitted them any underwear at all—let alone pursued the notion, foreign to Magisterian culture, that had occurred to me in relation to Sara.
But Prince Hendren had specified that for the subjugation of Artemisia we at Reparation Services would make use of the Prosperian governor. I had done my research and found several other aspects of Prosperian marital customs highly intriguing.
“What sort of garments were you thinking?” the director asked.
“Just a brassiere and panties,” I said. “The kind I think they call athong, or something like that, on Prosperia. Sara has a very strong reaction, I’ve observed, to feeling naked, which will of course be greatly enhanced when the cameras start filming. As I understand the allure of lacy lingerie…”
George chuckled. “Absolutely. It’s all about what she’s allowed to keep hidden, and who gets to take down those pretty panties. Those Prosperians—we look down on them for pretending they’re so proper and old-fashioned, but they have some very good ideas. I think we can find some appropriate things—there’s a Prosperian marital aid business that’s getting ready to open here in the capital, at the invitation of His Royal Highness.”
I had to laugh at that. “With some large share of the profit going to His Royal Highness’ purse, I’m sure.”
George tsked as he shook his head, waving a forefinger. “His foundation, Philip.”
I tried to keep the smile off my face and failed. “Right. The foundation that pays for his palaces on every newly subjugated world…”
“Which are always important cultural heritage sites, where I film stunning documentaries,” George finished. “And at whose lavish cultural training centers you are always welcome to fuck as many newly recruited concubines as your schedule allows.”
He meant it as a laugh line, of course, but it made me serious. I saw surprise on my friend’s face.
“Or…” George said. His brow crinkled. “Are you thinking about buying Miss Sara Granzofar? And…” He shook his head, and didn’t finish the thought, going in a different though related direction instead, since he had clearly read my answer in my eyes. “Have you ever considered a life bond before? You took good care of your girls, but I can’t remember you ever talking about extending their terms.”
I shook my head. “I knew I was headed off world for the war, remember?”
George inclined his head, his eyes showing some skepticism.
“Sure, but you didn’t seem all that interested—and now a girl you just met, from a backward egalitarian world we just conquered?”
I shrugged. “Maybe that’s what I needed—plus some Prosperian magic.”
* * *
Sara
Lying there naked and restrained in the state bedroom of the deposed president of Artemisia, waiting for the next part of my ordeal to begin, I knew I should probably have some dramatic ideas filling my head. Tragic thoughts about human suffering and the eternal, vicious cycle of dominance by the strong over the weak.
The only thing occupying my mind, however, was my terrible need to relieve the pressure building in my bladder.
I couldn’t have imagined a more distressing sight in that uncomfortable state than the Magisterian prince, drawing a clearly reluctant former president Viola Herranofar by the hand. Major Harrow walked a pace behind them, as if wishing to give the prince the respect due to royalty.
As the three of them neared the awful examination chair to which my guardian had bound me, I saw the look on his face and it sent a thrill of fear, embarrassment, and unwelcome arousal echoing from my neck down to the terribly exposed places down between my legs. The major’s expression said once again that he meant to assess me and to evaluate me—and that at this moment that evaluation had a very special meaning.
My new guardian, I read in his steady gaze, felt responsible for me. He wished me to demonstrate to this diplomat prince and to my traitorous former chief executive that I had begun my training well. That I had started to learn how beneficial to me and even to my world his sexual domination of me would prove.
And if I don’t show my gratitude for his having installed a governor in my pussy… for his horrible promises of the way he would take his pleasure and teach me to give pleasure to the men who would use me…
I felt my face crumple as my eyes went from Major Harrow’s face to Viola’s, and saw the effect my naked bondage atop the gynecological exam chair had on her. The wild thought went through my mind that if I didn’t do as my guardian wished, the prince would permit Viola—requirethe former president, even—to witness my punishment.
The cane.My eyes darted from Viola’s bright red face to the dresser, almost invisible in the shadows at the side of the state bedroom, cast by the bright lights the Magisterians had set up to illuminate the exam chair and the enormous bed. I couldn’t see the horrible thing my guardian had promised to use for serious infractions, but I felt as if my nervous system could sense it lying in wait there, ready to quell my defiance if Major Harrow deemed it necessary.
I looked back at Viola, another ungovernable thought flitting through my mind—that she must know about the cane, that she must want to see me made to undergo its fiery teaching. Something in her face, despite the distress I could see in her dark eyes and even the way they shone with unfallen tears, told me how very mixed, how complicated, her feelings about having me bound and spread naked before her were.
The prince had to draw her forward, yes. But Viola’s very reluctance, combined with her blush and the way she seemed both to want to keep her eyes on the carpet and to steal glances at me, made it much too clear that, like me, she responded between her thighs at the thought of my sexual servitude.
