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“Look,” he commanded. I heard the threat in his voice, and I knew the conspiratorial smile had gone from his mouth. I opened my eyes because I knew that note in Philip’s voice meant he would get the paddle in a moment. He might want to have an understanding with me, about my helpless needs, but he intended to train me with a very firm hand.
What I saw made me cry out, even as I felt the governor control the arousal between my legs.
In my guardian’s hand lay a pink object, clearly made of neoplastic, whose innocuous pastel color seemed to mock me almost as much as the implement’s shape threatened me with abject humiliation. Tapered to a rounded point, bulbous in the middle, tapering again and then flaring at its base. I had never seen one before, though I knew Artemisians used them in bed sometimes.
Because it felt good. I understood that, but I had always turned away from every opportunity I might have to see that kind of toy, or read about it—let alone to use it. For me the very thought led not to ideas of feeling good, in that naughtiest place, but of being taught a lesson there.
Of beingmadeto feel that terribly ambiguous mixture of discomfort and helpless pleasure.
There: where this pink plug, the thickness of two fingers at its widest point and perhaps the length of my middle finger, was meant to go.
“Take it, Sara,” Philip said.
A movement in the corner of my eye, on the other side of the bed, made me turn my head in that direction. One of the cameramen stood there, another purple-uniformed, masculine figure, his camera on his shoulder with its viewscreen in front of his eyes. Without moving his gaze from it—where he could see exactly what his camera lens was picking up—he lifted his hand in a little wave, his face smiling amidst his concentration as if to reassure me.
How could I feel reassured, though, that the presentation of an anal plug by the man who intended to train me as a submissive concubine had become the subject of a reality show?
“No, Sara,” my guardian said, his voice again severe. “You’re not to look at the cameras unless I tell you to. Look at the plug, and take it.”
I heard once more in his tone the threat of punishment—of a spanking, a paddling, or even a whipping with the terrifying cane. Trembling all over, with the humiliating tingle of the governor’s effect between my thighs, I turned back to Philip’s outstretched hand. My hand shook visibly as I reached it out and took the device, feeling its solidity and the slight resilience of its rubbery neoplastic surface under my grasping fingers as I took an almost convulsive hold of it. Something in the neoplastic the Magisterians had made it from had been designed to make it very slippery, the smooth surface feeling almost frictionless. I had to cup my hand around it carefully to keep it from getting away from me.
“Listen to me, now, my dear. This is the beginning of your training, and I would like to get it going on the right foot.”
I cast my eyes up to his face and saw how serious his expression had become. I had a dim awareness that the second cameraman had set up on the other side of the bed, a little further away than the first and with his camera pointed not at me but at my guardian, but I didn’t have the impulse to look away from Philip’s face. Again I had the idea—absurd as the logical part of my mind found it—that I could trust him.
“As I train you, there’s really only one thing to remember—one thing, with two parts. When you do as I instruct you, and give in to your naturally submissive impulses despite your modesty, I will allow your cunny to experience more pleasure. When you disobey, or resist, I will punish you.”
I felt my face twist into a pout of frustrated need. I held the awful plug in both hands, in my lap so that I could cover my pussy from the cameras’ view a little. My fingers curled around the smooth rounded surface with spasmodic little movements.
“What do you say, Sara, when I tell you something?” Philip asked.
I bit my lip for just a moment, and then I whispered it. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl,” my guardian said, his smile reappearing for a split second before vanishing again into his sterner expression. I had to hide my body’s instant response, the way it caused a jolt down there, and the maddening tingle, with a hard swallow.
To my horror, Philip didn’t want the fact of my helpless reaction to be lost on the audience. He turned to the camera.
“Those of you watching at home,” he said. “I just want to show you something pretty important about how Sara’s training is going to work.”
He held up the silver controller.
“This little card controls a device that you may have heard of, something they invented on Prosperia almost two centuries ago now, in old Earth years. It’s called a governor, and in patriarchal cultures it can assist greatly in ensuring that submissive women like Sara learn to accept their need for firm discipline—sexual discipline in particular.”
As my guardian explained to millions of my fellow citizens how the governor worked, my eyes fell to the shameful toy in my hands. I had gone bright red, I knew, and with dismay I felt how it would aid Philip in his degrading demonstration. As if from miles away I heard him continue.
“See how this light here just flashed red. That meant that Sara’s cunny tried to get aroused when she heard about the firm discipline that’s in store for young women like her, when a man like me takes them in hand. Ah, there we go—it happened again. Can we get a close-up? Do you see the digital display? It reads 83 right now—it goes up to 99—so Sara gets pretty needy when she hears about things like spanking and paddling. I had to paddle her just a little while ago, in fact. Now watch what happens when I let her clitoris get a little more aroused.”
CHAPTER21
Sara
Because Philip raised the level on the governor just a fraction of a second after he had told the galactic audience about my paddling, the increase occurred in the middle of a jolt of need down there.
Part of my mind narrated those circumstances to me, in what felt like some distant corner of the galaxy, far away from Artemisia… from the whole Magisterian Federation… from the Vionian Empire that had started the idiotic war… the one that had somehow lured my world into its whirling storm of insanity… that had made my president betray me into the hands of the handsome officer who had just revealed my bare-bottom paddling to millions of people.
The rest of me… my body, which felt like 99.99% of me… turned into a molten sea of pleasure. My back arched and my hips thrust forward, my left hand moving under the plug, pressing two fingers with an involuntary motion downward, between my thighs in search of my swelling clit, desperate for some release.
I closed my eyes and I heard a mortifying kittenish moan emerge from my throat as my fingers found the place they needed to be. Made utterly shameless by the return of sensation to my pussy, I started to move my bottom on the luxurious coverlet of the bed and my fingertips on my clit. I felt the wetness in my vagina start to flow, and in the darkness behind my closed eyes I moved my fingers further down, parting my thighs to allow them access. I pressed their tips gently inward and I felt the wanton gush of my warmth, the slippery essence that made my sheath ready for a man’s hardness deep inside me.
