Page 49 of Her Alien Guardian

My eyes widened, my heart beginning to race as I glanced over at Lydia and Elara, who watched with undisguised curiosity.

Trembling slightly, I obeyed Mrs. Porter’s instructions, kneeling on the soft bed and burying my burning face in the cool white covers. The mortifying position, which I had of course had to assume for my masters so many times before, felt so much more mortifying here in this cozy room, with two proper young ladieslooking on, than it ever had during my captivity. I felt my bottom raised and offered beneath the thin fabric of my nightgown. I could feel Lydia’s and Elara’s eyes on me, their curiosity almost palpable in the quiet room.

“Mrs. Porter,” Lydia’s voice piped up, a mix of concern and curiosity in her tone, “what are you going to do? Surely Tessara hasn’t done anything naughty—she’s only just arrived! She shouldn’t be punished already.”

I held my breath, grateful that my face was hidden in the bedding as I awaited Mrs. Porter’s response. The silence stretched for a long moment before Mrs. Porter spoke, her voice calm and matter-of-fact.

“This isn’t a punishment, Miss Lydia,” she explained. “Mr. Gamma has requested that Miss Tessara’s bottom be trained for him.”

A soft gasp echoed through the room, followed by the rustle of bedsheets. I imagined Lydia and Elara exchanging wide-eyed glances, their cheeks flushing pink at Mrs. Porter’s words.

“Trained?” Lydia’s voice was barely above a whisper now, filled with a mixture of shock and fascination. “What… what does it mean to have one’s bottom trained?”

Mrs. Porter’s sigh was audible in the quiet room. “Miss Lydia,” she said, her tone gently admonishing, “such questions are not appropriate for young ladies to discuss. You may well find out one day, but for now, you should hush and prepare for sleep.”

I heard Lydia draw a breath as if to ask another question, but Mrs. Porter’s stern “Ahem” silenced her effectively. The room fell quiet once more, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the rustle of fabric as Mrs. Porter moved closer to my bed.

I felt Mrs. Porter’s hands at my waist, precise and efficient, lifting the hem of my nightgown. The soft fabric whispered against my skin as she tucked it up, exposing my bottom to the night air. I squeezed my eyes shut, grateful beyond measure that my face was hidden in the bedcovers. The mortification of having my most intimate areas on display for Mrs. Porter and the other girls was almost more than I could bear, far more terrible than the eyes of any Vionian.

A slight jingling sound reached my ears, followed by the sensation of smooth leather encircling my waist. Mrs. Porter’s deft fingers worked quickly, fastening the belt snugly around me. I heard Lydia’s sharp intake of breath, imagining her wide-eyed fascination as she watched the proceedings.

“Now, Miss Tessara,” Mrs. Porter’s voice was low and soothing, “you’re going to feel some pressure. Try to relax.”

Before I could process her words, I felt something cold and slick pressing against my most private opening, the tight bud of my anus. My body tensed involuntarily, memories of rough Vionian hands flashing through my mind. But Mrs. Porter’s touch was gentle, almost clinical in its efficiency.

The plug was thick—thicker than anything I’d experienced before. It stretched me slowly but inexorably, the initial discomfort giving way to a strange fullness that made me whimper softly into the bedding. I heard Elara’s muffled gasp, and the rustle of sheets as she shifted in her bed.

“Breathe, Miss Tessara,” Mrs. Porter instructed, her hand resting soothingly on the small of my back. “Your body will adjust.”

I focused on my breathing, trying to relax as the plug settled fully inside me. The sensation was overwhelming—not painful, exactly, but impossible to ignore. Every slight movement sent shockwaves of awareness through my body, reminding me of its presence.

Mrs. Porter worked quickly, attaching straps from the plug to the belt around my waist. The subtle tugging sensation as she adjusted the straps made me squirm, which only served to heighten my awareness of the intrusion.

“There now,” Mrs. Porter said, her tone satisfied. “All done.”

As Mrs. Porter lowered my nightgown back into place, I became acutely aware of the labored breathing coming from Lydia’s and Elara’s beds. The room felt charged with a strange energy—part embarrassment, part fascination, part something much naughtier.

“Now then,” Mrs. Porter’s voice cut through the tension, “it’s time for sleep, girls. I’m going to adjust your governors to level three for the night. This will help you rest comfortably and prevent mischief. Tessara, I’m sure you’re aware, as Miss Lydia and Miss Elara are, that any attempt at self-pleasure is forbidden.”

CHAPTER 27

Tessara

After Mrs. Porter had turned off the light and shut the door, silence fell in the dormitory. I had almost drifted off to sleep despite the strangeness of the plug in my bottom when Lydia whispered, “What does it feel like, Tessara?”

Lying on my side, keeping my hands clasped tightly in front of me to resist the urge to reach back and feel for the base of the plug nestled between my bottom cheeks, Lydia’s whispered question made me tense. The slight movement caused the plug to shift inside me, sending a jolt of awareness through my body. I bit my lip to stifle a gasp, my face burning hot in the darkness.

“Lydia!” Elara’s scandalized whisper cut through the quiet room. “You mustn’t ask such things. It’s not proper!”

But Lydia seemed undeterred. “Please, Tessara,” she pleaded softly, her voice filled with curiosity and a hint of something else—excitement, perhaps? “Won’t you tell us what it’s like? I’ve never… I mean, I can’t even imagine…”

I squeezed my eyes shut, torn between embarrassment and a strange desire to share my experience. The constant presence of the plug made it impossible to forget, impossible to pretend that this wasn’t happening. Every breath, every tiny movement of my body reminded me of its intrusion.

“Tessara?” Lydia’s voice came again, more insistent this time. “Please? I’m desperate to know. Dr. and Mrs. Porter never tell us anything about… well, about what married life is really like. And it seems like… well, like you’ve seen so much more of the world—of the universe, even!”

I could hear the rustle of sheets as Lydia leaned closer, her eagerness almost palpable in the dark room. Elara’s soft, “Oh, Lydia, please stop it,” did nothing to deter her friend’s curiosity.

The plug seemed to pulse inside me, telling of the training I was undergoing for Gamma. I found myself wanting to tell them, to share this strange new experience. But the newfound shame and propriety my Prosperian clothes had somehow imparted to me held me back. What would proper Prosperian girls think of me if they knew the truth?

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