Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
The Pretorian Guard, I had always presumed—though without actual clarification from any Guard contact—had ‘recruited’ me for that reason, as much as for the submissive sexuality I had managed to hide even from myself until that night. And, of course, for my complete virginity, which they then sold to Ivan, along with the rest of me, for 5.6 million dollars.
Despite my best mental efforts, my mind went back to the night the unnamed Guard agent had silently entered my little apartment. ‘Grigoriy’ activating me, of course, naturally stirred those memories, but I desperately wanted to keep them at bay at the moment. I needed to pay as much attention to the other men, especially Devushkin, as I could. If I were to have a chance at completing this mission without losing my own life, I needed to know everything about Ivan Antonov.
A little table stood a few feet directly behind me, the most prominent thing in the view I had in the little mirror. On it sat the birch with which they had already turned my backside into an agony, punishing me for no reason at all except that Ivan had told them I was a naughty girl who needed strict discipline to give the pleasure he had bought me for.
Again, my mind traveled back to the first time I had seen a birch rod. How my first impression had left me wondering why all the girls in the old stories seemed so scared of it. A bundle of twigs, gathered with string at one end into a sort of handle.
“I’m going to whip you with this now,” the man in the black hood had said, after he had shown it to me. He had touched my back with the compliance wand, and he had told me to take off my clothes. He had told me to put my pillows in the middle of the bed and to lie over them. I had obeyed, my heart pounding in terror, but already aware of the terrible truth of the horrid wand.
It couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t, deep down in the darkest, most shameful places of my heart, already want to do.
CHAPTER 2
Heather
“Heather,” the man in the hood said as he woke me, one hand gently rubbing my shoulder and the other holding the rounded tip of the metal wand to my back. “This is for your own good. Get out of bed and take off your clothes.”
I felt a slight tingle, where the thing pressed between my shoulder blades. For a moment, despite the sleepy confusion in my mind, the suspicion that this was all just a very vivid dream, I blushed hotter than I could ever remember blushing before. To my astonishment but also somehow without any surprise—the way things happen in dreams, in fact—I started to obey the bizarre command.
I had on an oversize concert t-shirt and pink cotton bikini panties. I got out of bed despite the way my entire body trembled. I could observe as if from a long way away how a girl who looked and even felt exactly like me had just started to do as the hooded man who had invaded her home had told her.
“What…?” I asked, as my hands reached down as if they had a mind of their own and took hold of the hem of the black t-shirt. “What’s going…?”
He had stepped back from the bed a little to let me carry out his order. Now he moved forward again, his right hand reaching around my back. For the first time I saw the compliance wand, a little silver device whose shiny end protruded from his fist an inch or so.
I couldn’t tell if the man simply moved very quickly, or if something he had done—the wand thing, maybe—had slowed down time for me. I learned soon enough that part of the thing’s operation indeed involved that ongoing effect on the submissive girl’s mind. It let the wand’s user easily do what the man in the hood did then, and touch my back with it again, so that he could issue another command.
“Quiet, Heather,” he said very simply. My brow furrowed. I could imagine finishing my question—saying “What’s going on?” and following it up with “Who the fuck are you?” and then screaming for help. I couldn’t do it. This man, a part of my mind that seemed both completely new and like it had been there unnoticed forever, had told me to hold my tongue.
“Go ahead and take off your shirt and your panties,” he said. “I’m going to birch you.”
My body didn’t stop trembling as, to my horror, I simply obeyed him. I whimpered as I pulled the t-shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor, my face burning as I exposed my little breasts to the unseen eyes behind what I guessed must be the high-tech black cloth of his mask.