Chapter 6
Viola
I thought I had known humiliation until I walked through the doors of the Women’s Training Academy.
The next morning, after a short ride in an autocar, the building rose before me like a monument to feminine submission, its pristine white walls and orderly gardens seeming to anticipate the rigid structure that I knew must await within.
As a concession to Euporian custom, Prince Hendren had allowed me to wear a simple shift dress made of purple synth silk and matching sandals, but I had nothing under it, unless my collar counted.
He walked beside me, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back as we approached the entrance. Despite everything that had transpired between us, I found myself clinging to his familiar presence, dreading the moment he would leave me here.
“Remember what we discussed,” he murmured as we climbed the marble steps. “You belong to me. Whatever happens here, that fundamental truth remains unchanged.”
The massive oak doors opened before we could knock, revealing a woman in an elegant navy dress with crisp white trim. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a severe chignon, and her pale blue eyes assessed me with clinical interest. I recognized her, to my horror: Mistress Orela.
“Your Royal Highness,” she said, curtsying deeply. “I don’t know if you remember me from the reception last night. I am Mistress Orela, Headmistress of the Women’s Training Academy. We are honored by your presence.”
“Mistress Orela,” Prince Hendren replied with a slight bow. “Of course I remember. May I again present Viola, my concubine, this time formally, and for your instruction.”
The formal introduction made my cheeks burn. To be presented like a possession, handed over for training as if I were a misbehaving pet to this woman who had already proven herself so very odious, struck me as somehow worse than all the intimate degradations I had already endured.
“Of course, Your Highness. She will be well cared for.” Mistress Orela’s gaze swept over my simple dress—the only clothing Prince Hendren had permitted me for the journey.
“Come, Viola. Your education begins immediately. Your Royal Highness will follow her progress closely, I know, as you said last night. I will also consult your preferences for your concubine’s training as appropriate. ”
“As I mentioned last night, Viola has had a Prosperian governor installed,” the prince said. “Would it be of use during her Academy training?”
“Very much, Your Royal Highness,” Mistress Orela replied with a smile.
“In fact, the Euporian council will soon debate the wisdom of a pilot program here to see whether Euporian women would benefit from having governors to help them control themselves, and please their husbands more fully. If I understand correctly, you’re able to transfer control of Viola’s governor to me? ”
“That’s right,” Prince Hendren said, nodding. He took his handheld from his breast pocket. “I must say that her cunny seems extremely… amenable, shall we say… to the governor’s control. Indeed I was rather surprised last night by the results.”
I felt like I might actually vanish into the ground, or simply evanesce from the face of the planet.
My forehead had creased so hard it hurt, and my eyes had fixed themselves on Mistress Orela’s sensible black shoes.
Worst of all, as I remembered how brutally my master had used me the previous night, my pussy clenched between my thighs.
To my horror, the device in Prince Hendren’s hand beeped.
“Ah,” he said. “Viola’s cunny just clenched. Such a little whore. I’ve set her governor not to impede her pleasure, but you may wish to turn it down.”
I bit my lip, but a tiny whimper escaped my throat.
Mistress Orela had her own handheld in her hand now. “We will teach her at least a modicum of self-control, certainly,” she said. “Perhaps the governor will help with that.” She studied the screen of her device. “Ah, yes.” She tapped. “Thank you, I believe I now have control of the governor.”
She put her finger to the screen again, and moved it downward. I couldn’t keep from another humiliating little whimper as I felt the sensation in my pussy dampen.
“There we go,” she said. “We’ll leave you there at three for a while. You should be able to concentrate better, Viola.” She turned to Prince Hendren. “She was enjoyable for you last night, I gather? She took you well in her anus?”
“Oh, powers,” I whispered, as my face became scalding hot and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.
My master replied as if I weren’t there.
“Very well,” he said with a smile. “I’m sizable, and it was uncomfortable for her, of course, but the cane did the trick in securing me my rights. Her bottom is heavenly on the cock.”
I had no idea how much more I could take of their degrading conversation before I simply died of shame, but at last Prince Hendren turned to face me, his eyes boring into mine. “Two weeks,” he said simply. “When I return, I expect to find a very different woman.”
He leaned down to kiss my forehead, a gesture that might have seemed tender if not for the circumstances. Then he was gone, striding back toward the waiting transport, leaving me alone with Mistress Orela.
“Follow me,” she commanded, her voice crisp and authoritative.
I trailed behind her through corridors lined with portraits of stern-looking men and demurely posed women.
The Academy’s interior matched its exterior—everything clean, ordered, and precisely maintained.
We passed several closed doors from behind which I could hear the murmur of voices, though I couldn’t make out words.
“You’ll be joining five other students,” Mistress Orela explained as we walked. “All women who require… adjustment to their natural roles. Some are volunteers from progressive worlds who found equality unsatisfying. Others, like yourself, are reformation cases.”
We stopped before a door marked ‘Preparation Room.’ Mistress Orela opened it, revealing a space that looked part classroom, part medical facility. Several wardrobes lined one wall, while examination tables and mirrors occupied the center.
“Strip,” she ordered abruptly.
The command hit me like a physical blow. I had expected this moment, but the casual efficiency of it still caught me off guard. My hands trembled as I reached for the clasps of my purple shift dress, the magnetic fasteners coming apart with soft clicks.
“Quickly now,” Mistress Orela said, consulting a tablet she had produced from her pocket. “We have a schedule to maintain.”
The dress pooled around my feet, leaving me naked except for my collar and sandals. The cool air of the preparation room raised goosebumps across my skin, my newly bare sex feeling especially exposed. I fought the urge to cover myself, remembering Prince Hendren’s training.
“Sandals as well,” Mistress Orela instructed without looking up from her tablet. “Students at the Academy wear proper footwear. It reinforces your vulnerability and ensures you move with proper feminine grace.”
I stepped out of the sandals, the marble floor cold against my soles. Mistress Orela finally looked up, her clinical gaze cataloguing my naked form with the same detached interest she had shown at the reception.
“Adequate physical condition,” she murmured, making notes on her tablet. “The Magisterian methods have produced acceptable preliminary results.” She gestured toward one of the examination tables. “Up on the table, on your back. Legs in the stirrups.”
My stomach clenched, but I forced myself to comply. The metal stirrups were cold against my calves as Mistress Orela adjusted them, spreading my legs wide and tilting my pelvis upward. The position left me completely revealed, my smooth sex on mortifyingly full display.
“The Academy requires a complete physical assessment of each new student,” she explained, pulling on examination gloves. “We must understand exactly what we’re working with.”
Without further warning, the fingers of her right hand began to probe between my legs. I thanked the powers, as humiliating as it was, for my governor, as I felt it regulating my helpless arousal at the woman’s ministrations.
“Hmm,” Mistress Orela said, withdrawing her hand and taking her handheld from a pocket in her dress. “I think we’ll turn your governor up, Viola, so as to get an idea of your natural responses.”
I almost protested—almost asked for the horrid thing to be turned down all the way. I managed to keep it in, though. I even managed to keep from crying out as Mistress Orela turned the governor up, and the unwelcome arousal came flooding back into my system.
Sensation flooded through me instantly, and despite my desperate attempts to control my reaction, I felt my body respond with terrible eagerness. My nipples hardened, my breathing quickened, and I knew with mortifying certainty that I had just become wet.
“Fascinating,” Mistress Orela murmured, her eyes fixed on the screen of her handheld device.
“The biometric readings are remarkably precise. I can see your heart rate increasing, blood flow to your genital region expanding…” She looked up at me with clinical interest. “The governor provides real-time monitoring of your arousal state. Every flutter of excitement, every surge of need—it’s all perfectly tracked. ”
My face burned with humiliation as she continued her examination, her gloved fingers probing and testing while she watched the readouts on her screen like a scientist studying a specimen.
“Excellent responsiveness,” she noted, making entries on her tablet with her free hand. “I imagine that Prince Hendren’s Magisterian reconditioning has enhanced your natural sensitivity considerably, even in so short a time. Surely you weren’t so needy as president of a planet.”
I felt a surge of heat travel through me that made me think my skin might actually burst into flames.
I understood the irony all too well: Mistress Orela was actually implying that my unmet sexual needs had endangered my world.
At this point, I didn’t know whether I wanted the horrid woman to be right or wrong, but something in me knew how terribly accurate her judgment was.
If I had had more sex… if I had let a man dominate me in bed…
would I have found a way to save Artemisia from Magisteria’s iron fist?
Mistress Orela withdrew her fingers and stripped off the gloves. “You may sit up now,” she said, as if commanding women’s postures were as natural to her as breathing.
I struggled to an upright position, my legs still splayed in the stirrups, acutely aware of how exposed I remained. Mistress Orela moved to one of the wardrobes and began selecting items.
“You’ll be housed in the Academy dormitory with your five classmates,” she explained, returning with an armful of clothing. “The dormitory system serves multiple purposes—it creates bonds between students while maintaining healthy competition for approval.”
She held up what appeared to be a schoolgirl’s uniform: a white blouse with a collar that made me think of ancient portraits of distant ancestors, a pleated navy skirt that would barely reach mid-thigh, white knee socks, and shiny black shoes I thought I had once heard called Mary Janes, though I had no idea who that millennia-dead Mary Jane might have been.
The outfit was clearly designed to infantilize and sexualize simultaneously.
“Each dormitory room houses three students,” Mistress Orela continued as she helped me down from the examination table.
“You’ll share with Morandra, a former university professor, and Palla, who was a systems administrator.
They both come from Hippolyta. Has His Royal Highness told you about Hippolyta? ”
I shook my head as I pulled on the white cotton panties she handed me, the fabric strange against my bare skin after days of nudity.
“Answer me, Viola,” Mistress Orela said sharply. “Show me the respect I deserve.”
I swallowed hard.
“No…”
“Mistress,” the awful woman said, tilting her head toward me and narrowing her eyes.
“No, Mistress,” I said. “Prince… I mean, His Royal Highness—he hasn’t told me…”
I felt like my sanity had started to slip away. I couldn’t even seem to form a thought in the face of Mistress Orela’s complete conviction of her authority and rectitude.
“Put on your blouse,” she commanded.
I obeyed, grateful at least for a task to occupy me. The blouse had buttons—small and fiddly ones—clearly designed to make dressing a deliberate process.
“Hippolyta is called Magisteria’s sister planet not only because the two worlds lie in close proximity, but because women from Magisteria who do not wish to submit to masculine authority are allowed to settle there and govern themselves in the same sort of egalitarian way your world thought you could. ”
I remembered now that I had indeed heard about Hippolyta.
During the treaty negotiations, it had seemed at one point that Artemisia might be allowed to remain sovereign under the same kind of plan.
Then with a flash of heat that went to my scalp I remembered that I had been the leader of the opposition to that idea.
“Morandra and Palla were caught aiding the resistance and given a choice. They decided to volunteer for reformation here on Euporia. I hope their attitude may teach you something, Viola, even though the dormitory phase lasts only a few days,” Mistress Orela explained, watching me struggle with the skirt’s complicated fastenings.
“In that time, however, we are able to assess each student’s particular needs and provide guidance to their Guardians.
Your case, of course, will require special consideration. ”
My hands stilled on the skirt’s waistband. “Special consideration?”
“Your former position makes you a unique challenge,” she replied, adjusting the collar of my blouse with practiced efficiency. “Not every Guardian couple would be suitable for training a former head of state. We needed individuals with both the experience and the… fortitude to handle such a case.”