Her Alien Guardian (Galactic Discipline)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

G amma

I awoke in my suite in the Magisterian Embassy to find a message from Dr. Porter on my handheld, marked with high importance.

Dear Mr. Gamma , it read, I’m afraid I must report an incident of misbehavior on the part of Miss Tessara.

I read on with growing concern:

Last night, shortly after lights out, the governors of all three girls in the dormitory—Miss Tessara, Miss Lydia, and Miss Elara—registered heightened arousal and physical stimulation consistent with self-pleasure. Upon investigation, Mrs. Porter found the girls engaged in inappropriate conversation of a sexual nature, instigated by Miss Lydia’s curiosity about Miss Tessara’s experiences. All three were caught in various states of self-stimulation.

I have attached the full readout from Miss Tessara’s governor for your review. You will note several spikes in arousal over a twenty-minute period, along with rhythmic patterns indicative of manual stimulation of the genitals. The data also shows increased pressure and movement of the anal training device you requested we use.

While I understand Miss Tessara’s background may make her more susceptible to such impropriety, I’m afraid I cannot allow this behavior to go unpunished. As such, I invite you to attend a disciplinary session this afternoon at 4:00 p.m. All three girls will receive correction, and the other girls’ guardians will very likely be present.

I hope you will join us to witness this important lesson in proper Prosperian behavior. Your presence will reinforce the seriousness of the infraction and aid in Miss Tessara’s education.

Regards,

Dr. Augustus Porter

I set down the handheld with a sigh, my mind racing. Part of me felt a surge of possessive anger at the thought of Tessara touching herself without my permission. But I also recognized the unfairness of that reaction—after all, though Dr. Porter and I had both explicitly forbidden such behavior, her Vionian conditioning likely made it difficult for her to resist her body’s needs.

I opened the attachment, scanning through the detailed data from Tessara’s governor. Graphs and charts showed her physiological responses throughout the night—heart rate, body temperature, vaginal lubrication, muscle tension. I studied the arousal curve, noting how it built steadily before dropping sharply—likely when Mrs. Porter interrupted them.

One chart caught my eye—a measure of oxytocin and other bonding hormones. They had spiked significantly during the incident, especially when Tessara was speaking to the other girls. It seemed the intimate conversation had triggered an emotional response along with the physical one.

I sat back, considering my options. While I knew punishment was necessary to reinforce proper behavior, I also saw an opportunity here. Perhaps this incident could be used to further Tessara’s education and strengthen her bond with her new home.

With that in mind, I sent a quick reply to Dr. Porter confirming my attendance. Still musing on the incident, I made my way to the embassy’s commissary for breakfast with Alpha and Sala.

As I made my way through the gleaming corridors, my mind remained fixated on Tessara. I found myself longing for the direct, visceral connection I shared with the lovely girl when we were together. Without her physical presence, I couldn’t gauge the nuances of her emotional state, which I felt certain must be quite disturbed this morning.

The commissary was already bustling when I arrived, filled with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils against plates. I spotted Alpha and Sala at a table near the panoramic windows overlooking the Prosperian state house. As I approached, I couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly they embodied the ideals of Magisterian partnership—Alpha’s commanding presence balanced by Sala’s serene grace.

“Good morning, brother,” Alpha greeted me, his deep voice carrying easily over the ambient noise. “You seem troubled.”

I sank into the chair across from them, running a hand through my hair. “I received a message from Dr. Porter this morning,” I began, before recounting the incident with Tessara and the other girls.

Sala’s expression softened with understanding as I spoke. “Oh, the poor dear,” she murmured. “It must be so confusing for her, trying to navigate these new expectations.”

Alpha nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. “Indeed. The transition from Vionian captive to Prosperian lady-in-training is no small feat.”

I sighed, absently stirring the cup of steaming kava that a server had placed before me. The rich, earthy aroma usually brought comfort, but today it did little to soothe my troubled mind.

“I find myself questioning whether I made the right decision in sending her to the academy,” I admitted, my voice low. “Perhaps it’s too much, too soon. Maybe I should bring her back to the embassy, where I can oversee her training personally.”

Alpha and Sala exchanged a meaningful glance, a silent communication born of their years together. It was Sala who spoke first, her melodic voice gentle but firm.

“Gamma,” she said, reaching across the table to place her hand on mine, “I understand your concern. But I believe the academy is exactly where Tessara needs to be right now.”

I looked up, meeting her eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

Sala smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. “Because, my dear Gamma, Tessara needs more than just your guidance. She needs to learn how to interact with her peers, how to navigate the intricacies of Prosperian society. The academy provides a structured environment for her to do just that.”

Alpha nodded in agreement. “Sala’s right,” he added. “Think about it, Gamma. Last night’s incident only proves that, I believe.”

Sala smiled at her husband. “I have a feeling,” she said, “that when you attend Tessara’s correction you’ll see that your first instincts were right. A few weeks at the academy and I think Tessara will make a lovely, blushing, proper Prosperian bride.”

Tessara

In the morning, after a silent, blushing breakfast during which none of us could meet one another’s eyes, I followed Elara and Lydia to the parlor, where Mrs. Porter awaited us.

I held the delicate needle between my fingers, marveling at its slender elegance. The synth-linen Mrs. Porter had given me seemed strangely rough, but a glance over at my schoolmates’ samplers showed that it must be so in order to cover it with the sort of lovely stitching Lydia and Elara had done. Mrs. Porter’s stern gaze swept over us as we settled into our chairs, my posture ramrod straight despite the lingering soreness from the plug Mrs. Porter had removed when she had come to wake us.

“Now, Miss Tessara,” Mrs. Porter said, her voice crisp, “your sampler will say, A good girl learns to please . Let’s get you started.”

My cheeks burned as I read the words on the slip of paper Mrs. Porter handed me, memories of the previous night’s transgressions flooding back. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Porter had chosen this particular phrase as a pointed reminder of my misbehavior.

A glance over at Lydia’s and Elara’s samplers made me think I could well be right: Lydia’s said A young wife needs a firm hand , which brought heat to my cheeks, and Elara’s read A husband leads and a wife follows , which provoked an even more complicated reaction in me as I pictured Gamma’s stern-but-kind blue face as he heard about my transgression.

With gentle but firm guidance, Mrs. Porter showed me how to thread the needle and make my first stitches. The work was delicate and precise, requiring a level of focus I found both challenging and oddly soothing. As I carefully formed each letter, I felt a strange sense of pride beginning to bloom within me.

Lydia and Elara worked silently beside me, their needles moving with practiced ease. The only sounds in the room were the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional quiet instruction from Mrs. Porter. The tension from the morning’s awkward breakfast slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a shared concentration on our task.

As I stitched, I couldn’t help but reflect on the words taking shape beneath my fingers. A good girl learns to please . The phrase echoed in my mind, stirring all the usual mixed emotions. Part of me bristled at the idea of existing solely to please others, a remnant of the defiance that had helped me survive my time with the Vionians. But another part—a part that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day on Prosperia—found comfort in the clarity of purpose those words offered.

I glanced up, catching Lydia’s eye. She offered a small, hesitant smile, and I felt a rush of warmth. Despite the trouble we’d gotten into, I was grateful for the connection we’d formed. Elara, too, seemed less tense than she had at breakfast, her shoulders relaxing as she focused on her needlework.

I continued to embroider, surprised at the enjoyment I found in the intricate work. The rhythm of the needle passing through the fabric felt almost meditative, and a sense of accomplishment grew in me as the words slowly took shape. The deep burgundy thread stood out beautifully against the cream-colored linen, each stitch seeming a tiny work of art.

Yet even as I lost myself in the task, the punishment to come loomed over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the peaceful moment. My hands trembled slightly as I formed the loop of a p , thinking of what might await us this evening.

Unable to contain my curiosity and fear any longer, I leaned slightly toward Elara, careful to keep my eyes on my work. “Elara,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “why haven’t we heard anything about… you know… the punishment?”

Elara’s needle paused mid-stitch, her knuckles whitening as she gripped it tightly. She glanced nervously at Mrs. Porter before leaning in, her auburn curls brushing my shoulder as she whispered back, “This kind of punishment always happens in the evening. They… they like the guardians to attend.”

My stomach dropped at her words. The thought of Gamma witnessing my shame made me feel sick. I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Elara shook her head minutely, her eyes wide with warning.

“We mustn’t talk about it,” she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. “It only makes it worse if we dwell on it. “

Before I could respond, Mrs. Porter’s sharp voice cut through the quiet of the room. “Silence, girls,” she commanded. “Your samplers require your full attention.”

I quickly ducked my head, focusing intently on my needlework. But try as I might, I couldn’t banish the thoughts of what the evening might bring. Each stitch felt like a countdown, bringing me closer to the moment I dreaded. The words I was embroidering seemed to mock me now— A good girl learns to please . I had failed in that already, disappointing both Mrs. Porter and, undoubtedly, Gamma.

As the morning wore on, the dread in my stomach grew heavier. The beauty of the embroidery, which had so enchanted me earlier, began to feel like a thin veneer over the harsh realities of my new life. The worst part was that even as fear and anxiety churned within me, I couldn’t deny the small part of me that anticipated the punishment with a mortifying excitement. The complexity of my emotions left me feeling dizzy and confused, my cheeks burning with a blush I couldn’t fully explain.

After embroidery, we moved to the schoolroom for our literature lesson. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the air. We sat at our desks facing Dr. Porter at his own—where, I remembered with a shiver, I had seen Lydia caned with her drawers down yesterday.

The headmaster stood before us to begin the lesson, his gray hair neatly combed, his beard trimmed to perfection. His intelligent eyes swept over us as he began, his deep voice filling the room.

“Today, we’ll continue our study of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice ,” he announced. “To begin, I’d like each of you to share which of the Bennet sisters you admire most, aside of course from Elizabeth, whom we all must love despite her occasional willfulness. We’ll start with you, Miss Elara.”

Elara shifted in her seat, her auburn curls catching the sunlight. “I… I admire Mary Bennet, sir,” she said softly, her cheeks flushing pink. “She loves to play the piano, just as I do. And she’s studious and devoted to improving herself.”

Dr. Porter nodded approvingly. “An interesting choice, Miss Elara. Mary’s dedication to her studies is indeed admirable, though perhaps taken to an extreme. Miss Lydia, your thoughts?”

Lydia sat up straighter, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, sir,” she began, her voice carrying a hint of defiance, “I admire Lydia Bennet.”

Dr. Porter’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Indeed? And why is that, Miss Lydia?”

Lydia’s chin lifted slightly. “I know she’s considered a bad girl, sir. But I admire her spirit. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. She’s vivacious and full of life.”

To my surprise, Dr. Porter’s lips curved into a small smile. “An interesting perspective, Miss Lydia. While Lydia Bennet’s actions are certainly not to be emulated, her zest for life is indeed noteworthy. It’s a quality that, when properly channeled and tempered with wisdom, can be quite admirable.”

Lydia’s eyes widened at the unexpected praise, a pleased flush spreading across her cheeks.

Dr. Porter’s gaze then turned to me, his expression thoughtful. “And you, Miss Tessara? I know you haven’t read the entire book yet, but based on what you’ve read and heard, which Bennet sister do you admire most?”