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I felt certain I knew precisely what she meant, but I resisted my compassion. I decided if I dare not resist Philip I could at least heap scorn on the woman who had betrayed me.
“What is what like?” I demanded. I opened the shower door, adding a flourish of extra force to the gesture so that I stood naked before her in the doorway. I held my hands at my sides and I had an odd moment of a different version of the detachment I had felt over and over: I felt like I inhabited the body of that other girl, and like that body—my body—had a claim to be treasured… that Ishouldbe treasured by a man who knew the value of a well-behaved fuck toy.
“The… the governor,” Viola whispered. Her voice took on a pleading, almost begging, tone. “What does itfeellike?”
CHAPTER25
Philip
When Viola led Sara back into the bedroom, George’s cameramen were ready, though he himself had retreated to his makeshift control room, set up in the beautiful wood-paneled space that had one served as Artemisia’s cabinet room. I had a direct, if one-way, communication channel with him through the tiny comm device implanted in my ear since my enlistment in the Magisterian armed forces at age eighteen.
“Keep that nice medium shot of Philip right there, camera one,” George said.
One of cameramen had set up a couple of meters away from me, his lens pointed at me for that medium shot as I watched Sara walk toward me, dressed in the pretty white lace that set off her loveliness so exquisitely.
“Camera two,” George said. “Give me a close-up of her face, and then move down. Two seconds on those panties at least.”
I had no desire to watch camera two at work: I only had eyes for the nearly naked girl walking hesitantly toward me with her former president behind her. Sara’s eyes met mine, and the pretty blush that suffused her fair cheeks only made me more frank in the way I moved my own gaze downward to imitate precisely the shot the director had just asked for.
I looked at her sweet little breasts in the lacy bra, and I saw the pink nipples standing up with the arousal I had allowed her when I had turned the governor back up to six. I lowered my eyes further and looked at the lacy thong. Through its pretty floral mesh I could see the sweet cleft of Sara’s cunny, and I thought I could even make out her shy inner petals, peeping out from that inviting slit.
When I had taken my fill of the lascivious sight I lifted my gaze again, to find the blush had become nearly crimson in her cheeks. Sara stopped a meter away from me. Her lips parted and I could see her chest heave with her anxious breath. Her eyes flicked downward to the long, thin thing I held in my hands, one end grasped in my right and the length resting across the palm of my left.
“Two shot, camera one. Favor Sara as she looks at the cane. Two, stay on Sara but circle round and let me see her ass in the thong. Give me a low angle on Philip from there. That’s it. Beautiful. Artistic even.” In George’s voice I heard dispassionate professionalism. For my part, I couldn’t feel any detachment at all: my cock had gone rock hard at the sight of the concubine I would have the privilege of breaking in tonight.
“Hello, Sara,” I said, smiling as gently as I could, trying to quell some of her fear despite knowing that the fear was justified—and necessary.
“Please, sir,” she whispered. “Please… not the cane?”
“You need a whipping, my dear,” I told her calmly, “if only to settle you down after you were allowed so much pleasure, and prepare you to serve me properly and submissively tonight.”
I watched her face pucker with dismay. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. I could see in her eyes that the part of her I had started to foster, the part that could acknowledge her dark desires, had responded to my words very much as I had intended.
I knew the controller, currently in my pocket, had just flashed red and showed a high number—in the seventies or eighties, I guessed. I felt my hardness jump at the thought of the wonderful dominance the governor gave me over Sara’s pretty cunt. I didn’t even need to see or handle the controller to experience its benefits for finding pleasure in my new concubine, and even more for giving her the pleasure she needed so badly.
Sara had felt for herself how the paddling earlier had led to the intense delights of her masturbation with the plug in her bottom, and the shameless way she had—I felt certain—taught so many of her fellow citizens to play with themselves. In her expression I saw that she understood that I meant her first whipping to produce an even greater response, and so even now her terror of the punishment she had coming had mingled with irresistible arousal, its urgency only increased by the governor’s action.
“Alright,” I heard George say over the comm, “we’ll cut there for the opener. Ready to go live in two minutes.”
“Sara,” I said, “we’re about to get started for real.”
Her brow furled in evident confusion.
“For real?” she asked.
I nodded. “All day the media have been broadcasting the order for adult Artemisians to put their kids to bed and be at their vid screens at 2200 hours. It’s 21:58 now. We’re going live with your reparations training session in just a few moments.”
* * *
Sara
Suddenly Prince Hendren walked into the bedroom, coming through the doorway to the living room. Behind his approaching form, to my heart-thudding dismay, I could see the terrible bench my guardian called the punishment horse. The leather straps waiting to restrain me seemed so menacing, despite their being so far away, that my right hand crept behind me, unconsciously trying to guard my bottom from the horrible cane that—much worse—lay right in front of me in Philip’s hands.
Moving my hand there made me aware again of how this kind of underwear seemed intended not to cover and to conceal but to expose and to present a girl’s most intimate places. My fingers moved across, feeling the contrast between my round bottom-cheeks, made trim and tight at the expense of so much gym time, and the narrow lace thong between them.
The prince drew closer, smiling at me and then at Viola in turn.
I remembered the answer I had made her about the governor, in the bathroom. I had said, with acid in my voice, “I can’t describe it.” Then, seeing the deposed president of my world blush, and feeling the fear and anger rise up in my chest until it came out in a bitter lash, I had added, “You should ask your prince to give you one, Viola.”
