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“No, Sara,” I heard my guardian say, and suddenly it all went away, and I felt the most urgent tingle the governor had ever issued to my nervous system—a curbing of my arousal so severe it felt painful for a moment as the frantic fingers that had given so much pleasure just an instant before became an uncomfortable, impinging presence.
My eyes flew open with a startled cry. All the heat between my legs seemed to travel straight upward into my face, so strongly that I felt the blush in my ears. I saw that one of the cameramen had moved to the foot of the bed so that he could get a close-up of my hand’s lewd movements on my pussy. The other—the one who had previously taken footage of Philip’s face—had turned his camera onto my face instead.
“Look at me,” Philip said, his voice very stern. “I think I told you not to look at the cameras, didn’t I?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, reflexively, my heart racing with fear and the remnants of the arousal he had just taken away.
“Take your hands away from your cunny,” he instructed. “And spread your knees nice and wide so everyone at home can see. They get to see you, but you don’t get to see them—that’s a very important part of your training, Sara.”
Then, obviously intending to emphasize his point so strongly that I would never forget it, Philip turned his own attention to the camera. I knew, though I dare not glance in that direction, that the cameraman had swiveled his lens to let my guardian speak directly to the viewers of my degrading training.
“Remember, folks, that our algorithms have determined that Sara will benefit greatly from the kind of life I’m going to be introducing her to this evening. She needs discipline to find happiness, whether in the bedroom or in her life more generally. If you’re an Artemisian woman watching Sara’s training, all the federation asks is that you think hard about whether the same may apply to you. Reparations classes will be available in all Artemisia’s population centers beginning tomorrow.”
Astonishing, I thought, as if it didn’t have anything to do with me.That’s a level of public relations professionalism I would have killed for in my staff.
I watched his eyes return to me, his face serious. When he spoke, his tone had a slightly elevated quality that made it clear he meant his words to go out to the viewing audience—that from now on, when he spoke to me he also spoke to them, in an important sense displaying me in his words just as thoroughly as the cameras displayed my naked body to their lascivious gaze.
“Sara, I think I gave you a command a moment ago.”
My lips parted and I heard my breath coming in little gasps as I remembered what he had ordered me to do. Only a few seconds earlier, when he had issued the instruction to take my hands away and to spread my knees, it had seemed horribly embarrassing. After he had spoken to the audience about me, and emphasized the mortifying truth that they would see me without my seeing them, my hands seemed completely frozen in place, atop my lap.
My fingers no longer rubbed, because my guardian had taken all purpose from that lewd movement. I held the awful pink plug in my right hand, over my left hand as it covered the place I had so wantonly played with just moments before, as if no one were watching. Those hands wouldn’t move, and neither would my knees. I watched Philip with wide eyes, trembling all over with anxiety over what he would do to curb my defiance.
Again he raised his eyes, looking again at the camera.
“By the time Sara’s training is over,” he told the audience, “refusal to show her cunny immediately on command will be the sort of disobedience I quickly punish her for, since by then she will have learned much better. Now, though, she’s still getting used to being a sexual servant, so I’m going to help her obey me.”
He turned back to me, his tone even more didactic.
“Sara, dear, first of all, you know that if you want me to turn up your governor you need to do as you’re told. And you know that unless I turn up your governor your cunny can’t feel nice, the way a good girl’s cunny feels when her master rewards her. Do you know that?”
I shook my head. I pressed my hands more firmly against my lap, trying to make the strange, slippery feeling of the resilient neoplastic toy distract me. I tore my eyes away from his handsome face and looked down, hoping to focus on my knees or my feet—but unable to keep my gaze away from the plug.
My mouth twisted to the side and my brow furrowed at the tiny jolt of arousal the sight caused, and the way the pressure of my hands reinforced it.
Dammit.Why couldn’t he have turned the stupid governor all the way down?
You know why, said the rational part of my mind. That segment of my brain seemed to have increased its share of my thoughts, clearly gaining ground in direct proportion to the strength of the governor’s moderation of my sexual arousal. It didn’t do me any good, though, because logical thinking only revealed just how foolish it would be to defy Philip.
“Answer me,” he said, his tone becoming stern, its authority just slightly theatrical for the benefit of the viewing audience. Again he spoke to them, rather than to me. “Sara has seen the punishment cane, folks. She’s got a pretty good idea just how unpleasant it will be for her if she disobeys. So I’ll give her one more chance, and I’ll turn her governor up just a little now, to help her learn.”
I looked back up at him, to see him move his thumb slightly on the controller. Then to my surprise he tucked the silver card into a pocket of his uniform jacket. He reached his hands out, toward me, but not in the direction of my face; his hands moved toward my lower body. My mouth opened to protest, but he had taken hold of my knees before I could even draw a breath to ask him what he meant to do.
The touch of his fingers, grasping firmly but not roughly, made me cry out softly not in defiance but in startled, helpless need. The increase in stimulation he had allowed me with the governor meant that the sensation of his lifting my thighs and spreading my knees sent a wave of pleasure straight from his strong hands to my pussy. The little bit of resistance I tried to put up only reinforced that pleasure: my guardian’s wordless insistence on spreading me open for the camera brought a new jolt of arousal. My clit tingled with it as once again the mortifying device between my thighs curbed my body’s erotic response and made me desperately needy for more.
My eyes went from his hands on my legs up to his face. Philip had his attention on what he had just done, the continued rebellion of my hands covering my pussy from view. Slowly, his face severe, he turned back to me.
“Do you know that, Sara?” he repeated. “Do you know that I’m going to control how your cunny responds, from now on?”
“Yes, sir,” I sobbed.
“You can be a good girl, and show everyone your pretty cunny and your cute little bottom-hole, and I’ll let you feel nice down there when I tell you to play with yourself,” he said. “Or I can turn you all the way down and whip you on the punishment horse for being a naughty girl, and everyone watching will see your cunny and your anus anyway. Here’s your last chance. Take your hands away and show everyone what that cunny looks like. Right now.”
I took my lower lip between my teeth, and I looked deep into his eyes. The rational idea that it made no sense to disobey had given way to abject terror of the cane and the punishment horse I had seen in the living room. My hands had started to tremble violently, but I started to move them at last.
“That’s it,” Philip said, his voice becoming encouraging. “You’re very pretty down there, especially now that I’ve shaved you.”
I gave a whimper, and closed my eyes. I felt his hands move from beneath my knees to take hold of my wrists.
