Page 48 of Her Alien Guardian

The rest of the day brought a kind of new experience I had never imagined. An hour after I had said goodbye to Gamma, I sat nervously at my desk as Dr. Porter began the afternoon history lesson. The hard wooden seat pressed uncomfortably against my still-tender bottom, a reminder of my near-powerlessness in this strange new world.

The governor between my legs seemed to hum softly in my mind, though it made no actual sound. The thought that Dr. Porter and his wife could decide how much sensation I might feel down there kept pressing in on my consciousness so urgently that from moment to moment I felt blushes come and go in my cheeks.

“Today, we’ll be discussing the history of Magisteria, Vion, and our own beloved Prosperia,” Dr. Porter announced, his authoritative voice filling the classroom. “Pay close attention, girls. Understanding our past is crucial to appreciating your place in society.”

He paced slowly at the front of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “The most successful spacefaring colonies from old Earth,” he began, “have consistently adhered to traditional gender roles and practiced loving discipline. This would seem not to be mere coincidence, but a fundamental truth about human nature and the cosmos itself.”

I found myself leaning forward, captivated despite my lingering embarrassment from the morning’s events. Dr. Porter’s words stirred something deep within me, a longing for structure and guidance I hadn’t fully recognized before.

“We begin with Magisteria,” he continued. “It was there that gravitium was first discovered—a substance that would revolutionize space travel and shape the future of humanity among the stars.”

Dr. Porter turned to the large holographic display behind him, bringing up an image of a shimmering, otherworldly mineral. “Gravitium,” he explained, “was found by a colony that left Earth aboard a cryo-ship. These brave pioneers sought to found a society where they could practice loving dominance and submission without the judgmental eyes of their more ‘progressive’ peers.”

The image shifted, showing a pure white world. “In the tunnels they bored beneath its permanent cover of ice, Magisteria evolved into a polygamous culture,” Dr. Porter said. “Those women who did not wish to submit traveled to a separate, egalitarian planet. This self-selection ensured that Magisterian society remained stable and harmonious.”

As he spoke, I felt a warmth spreading through me. The idea of a world built on such clear principles of dominance andsubmission was both thrilling and comforting. I thought of Gamma, wondering if he saw me as a potential Magisterian wife.

“Our own Prosperia,” Dr. Porter continued, bringing up an image of a planet that looked very different, with varied areas of blue, green, and brown, “was founded by a group of Magisterians who wished to experience a different sort of traditional lifestyle—that of one of the cultures of old Earth, those we call Victorians. They sought to combine the best aspects of Magisterian dominance with the refined manners and strict moral code of Earth’s nineteenth century.”

I couldn’t help but squirm in my seat, the constant hum of arousal from my governor making it difficult to sit still. Dr. Porter’s stern gaze swept over the classroom, lingering on me for a moment before moving on.

“And then we have Vion,” he said, his tone darkening slightly. The holographic display showed a massive generation ship, its hull scarred by centuries of space travel. Dr. Porter’s expression grew somber. “Another Earth colony,” he explained, his voice low and serious, “embarked on a journey aboard this vessel—theVion. Their destination was a distant star system, but the voyage would take generations to complete.”

The image zoomed in, revealing the intricate inner workings of the ship. Cramped living quarters, hydroponic gardens, and communal areas filled the screen. “Life aboard the Vion was harsh,” Dr. Porter continued. “Resources were scarce, and the population had to be strictly controlled. Over time, a rigid social hierarchy emerged.”

I felt a chill run down my spine, memories of my time aboard theConqueror of Breslaflooding back. The oppressive atmosphere,the casual cruelty of the officers—it all made a terrible kind of sense now.

“In the confines of their ship,” Dr. Porter said, his tone grim, “the Vionians evolved a nonconsensual form of dominance and submission to keep order. The strong ruled over the weak, and women… well, women became little more than property.”

The holographic display showed scenes that made my stomach churn—women in chains, being used and abused by leering men in uniform. I saw Lydia and Elara exchange horrified glances, their faces pale.

“When they finally reached their destination,” Dr. Porter continued, “the Vionians founded Vion Prime. But their brutal society had become so ingrained that they couldn’t imagine living any other way. They began to expand, conquering nearby systems and establishing what would become known as the Vionian Empire.”

I found myself nodding along, pieces of my past falling into place. The cruelty I had experienced, the complete disregard for my humanity—it wasn’t just the actions of a few evil men, but the result of generations of warped social evolution.

“The Vionian Empire,” Dr. Porter said, his voice filled with disgust, “represents everything that the Magisterian Federation, and Prosperia herself, stands against. Where we practice loving discipline and consensual submission, they use force and fear. Where we cherish our women as precious gifts to be protected and guided, they treat them as disposable objects.”

As Dr. Porter spoke, I felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over me. My horizons were broadening, my understanding of the universe expanding. For the first time, I truly appreciated theenormity of what Alpha, Sala, and Gamma had done for me by bringing me to Prosperia.

“You see, girls,” Dr. Porter said, his gaze sweeping across the classroom, “the universe is vast and full of wonders. But it also harbors great darkness. It is our duty—and our privilege—to stand as a beacon of light, to show that dominance and submission can be beautiful, loving, and consensual.”

That night in the academy’s dormitory, Mrs. Porter put Lydia, Elara, and me to bed. The room felt cozy, with three narrow beds arranged against the walls, each topped with a fluffy white duvet and an assortment of pillows. A large window looked out over the moonlit grounds of the academy, the silvery light casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I ran my fingers over the soft cotton of my nightgown. The fabric felt luxurious against my skin, so different from the rough, utilitarian garments I’d worn aboard the Vionian ship when allowed clothing for protection while performing some duty. I couldn’t help but marvel at how much my life had changed in such a short time.

Lydia, her chestnut hair braided neatly for sleep, leaned forward eagerly. “So, Tessara,” she whispered, her eyes bright with curiosity, “what was it really like on the Vionian ship? Were the officers as cruel as Dr. Porter said?”

My cheeks grew hot as memories of my time aboard theConqueror of Breslaflooded back—the rough hands of the officers, the constant fear, the humiliation… I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss for words.

Elara, her auburn curls wild around her face, shot Lydia a disapproving look. “Lydia, stop it,” she hissed, her freckled cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You shouldn’t ask such personal questions. It’s not proper.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Elara! Aren’t you the least bit curious? We’ve never met anyone who’s been off-world before let alone someone who’s lived among Vionians.”

“Girls.” Mrs. Porter’s stern voice cut through our whispered conversation as she stood in the doorway, her gray hair neatly coiled atop her head and high-necked nightgown starched and pressed. “That’s quite enough chatter for tonight; it’s time for bed.”

Relief washed over me at Mrs. Porter’s intervention; I wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk about my experiences yet—especially not with girls who seemed so innocent and untouched by the cruelties I’d endured.

Mrs. Porter moved into the room, her steps measured and purposeful as she stopped at the foot of my bed—her sharp eyes taking in my flushed cheeks and nervous demeanor. “Tessara,” she said in a voice that sounded almost tender, “Mr. Gamma has left specific instructions for your nighttime routine. Kneel on your bed, please, with your face in the covers.”

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