Page 44 of Her Alien Guardian

“You must be our new pupil,” she said, her voice crisp. “I am Mrs. Porter. Please, come in.”

As we stepped into the foyer, I was struck by the opulence of my surroundings. Rich wooden paneling lined the walls, interspersed with oil paintings of stern-looking men and women. The floor was polished marble, so shiny I could see my own reflection in it.

Mrs. Porter led us down a long hallway, the click of her heels echoing off the high ceilings. We passed several closed doors, behind which I could hear the murmur of voices—other students, I realized with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Finally, we reached a large oak door at the end of the hall. Mrs. Porter knocked twice, then opened it without waiting for a response. “Dr. Porter,” she announced, “your new pupil has arrived.”

Mrs. Porter ushered us into a spacious classroom, its walls lined with bookshelves and adorned with maps of far-off worlds. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden desks arranged in neat rows. At the front of the room stood a distinguished-looking man with short-cropped gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His watchful brown eyes seemed to miss nothing as they swept over the group.

Two young women sat at desks near the front, their posture impeccable as they turned to regard us with curiosity. One had long chestnut hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, while the other sported a head of curly auburn locks. Both wore the same style of blue dress as mine, though theirs seemed to fit more naturally, as if they were accustomed to such finery.

“Ah, excellent timing,” Dr. Porter said, his voice deep and authoritative. “We were just discussing a crucial point in Austen’sPride and Prejudice. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to an empty desk near the front of the room. “These are your new schoolmates, Miss Lydia and Miss Elara.”

I cast a glance backward at Gamma, who smiled and nodded. With trembling legs, I made my way to the indicated seat, acutely aware of the eyes following my every move. As I sat down, smoothing my skirt nervously, Dr. Porter resumed his lecture.

“Now, as I was saying,” he continued, pacing slowly at the front of the room, “much of the trouble that befalls the Bennet family could have been avoided if Mr. Bennet had exercised proper discipline over his household. The foolishness of Lydia, the impertinence of Elizabeth, even Mrs. Bennet’s ridiculous behavior—all of these could have been corrected with the judicious application of corporal punishment.”

I felt my eyes widen at his words, my gaze darting to Gamma for reassurance. He gave me a small nod, his expression calm and encouraging.

Dr. Porter continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Had Mr. Bennet taken his adult daughters across his knee for a sound spanking when they first showed signs of willfulness, or better yet, used his cane to instill proper obedience, the family might have avoided the scandal of Lydia’s elopement entirely.”

The girl with the chestnut hair—the one herself named Lydia, I thought—suddenly spoke up, her voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction. “But sir, surely you can’t mean that! The Bennet sisters were grown women, not children to be disciplined like?—”

“Silence!” Dr. Porter’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting off the girl’s protest. His eyes flashed with a mixture of disappointment and stern resolve. “Miss Lydia, I’ve warned you about speaking out of turn. It seems you need a demonstration of the very point I’m making.”

My heart began to race as Dr. Porter crooked his finger at Lydia, beckoning her to the front of the classroom. The young woman’s face had gone pale, but she rose from her seat with a quiet dignity that impressed me. As she approached the large oak desk at the front of the room, Dr. Porter’s stern gaze never left her.

“Bend over the desk, Miss Lydia,” he commanded, his voice laced with authority.

Lydia hesitated for just a moment, her eyes darting to where Gamma, Alpha, and Sala stood observing. Then, with a small sigh of resignation, she leaned forward, placing her palms flat on the polished surface of the desk. The curve of her bottom, clearly visible beneath her blue dress, seemed to invite Dr. Porter’s waiting hand.

My breath caught in my throat as Dr. Porter reached for the hem of Lydia’s skirt. With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted the fabric, draping it over her back to reveal her white cotton drawers. I felt my cheeks burn with secondhand embarrassment, remembering my own recent experience with the doctor and feeling again the strange operation of Prosperian clothing on my mind. Nudity had never seemed so shameful until I had been allowed lovely, modest clothing.

“Miss Tessara,” Dr. Porter said, his eyes meeting mine, “observe carefully. This is how we correct impertinence and willfulness in young ladies at this academy.”

He touched the waistband of Lydia’s drawers and my eyes went wide as I noticed the subtle relaxation of the fabric.

“Miss Lydia’s guardian,” Dr. Porter went on, “has of course given Mrs. Porter and me authority over her garments, as of course Miss Elara’s parents have over hers—and should your guardian enroll you here, he will do over your own, Miss Tessara. Note that this of course means you will have to ask permission to use the lavatory.”

With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of the snow-white drawers and tugged them down to Lydia’s knees. I couldn’thelp but gasp at the sight of her bare bottom, the pale flesh quivering slightly as Lydia shifted nervously.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar tingle between my legs—my governor activating in response to the arousal I couldn’t quite suppress. The device curbed the heat that threatened to build in my core, leaving me with a frustrating awareness of my body’s reaction without the satisfaction of full arousal.

Dr. Porter noticed my reaction and smiled knowingly. “Ah, yes, Miss Tessara. You’re experiencing the effects of your governor, aren’t you? I imagine it’s currently set to level five, which allows for some arousal but prevents you from becoming too… distracted.”

He turned his attention back to Lydia, who remained bent over the desk, her bottom bare and offered for discipline. “Now, Miss Lydia’s governor is usually set to seven, as is standard for our pupils. This allows for a higher level of arousal, which is important for their education in wifely duties. However, for the purposes of this punishment, I’m going to lower it to four.”

As he spoke, Dr. Porter retrieved a control device from his pocket. With a few taps, he adjusted Lydia’s governor. I saw the young woman’s body tense slightly, no doubt feeling the change in her body’s sensations.

“This will ensure that Miss Lydia feels the full sting of her punishment, without the cushion of pleasure that might otherwise dull the lesson,” Dr. Porter explained. “You will, I imagine, note that as we proceed, Miss Lydia will nevertheless become quite aroused.”

From a drawer in his desk, he produced a long, slender cane made, I thought, of a thin branch, or perhaps a dried reed.

Dr. Porter swished the cane through the air, the sound making me flinch. Without further preamble, he brought it down sharply across Lydia’s upturned bottom. The crack echoed through the classroom, followed immediately by Lydia’s sharp intake of breath.

“One,” Dr. Porter counted calmly. “Miss Lydia, you will count each stroke and thank me for your correction.”

“O-one, sir,” Lydia gasped out. “Thank you for my correction.”

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