The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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Lara Swift Is Colonized

Chapter 3: The Dawn of Austerity

It didn’t occur to Lara until much later that the 200,000 pounds would actually be necessary to pay for the treatments that she would undergo while she was imprisoned within the Black Hole. The technology they used on her was cutting-edge, and it certainly didn’t come cheap.

The first thing they changed about her was her eyes.

Lara always had 20/20 vision—an eagle-eyed huntress, she could hit a rabbit with a bow and arrow from twenty yards, even if it was hiding deep in the brush. So it was with great trepidation that she agreed to have ‘vision adjustment’ surgery. She would have never accepted it if it weren’t a necessary condition of her getting out of her cell and joining their educational program. In the end, all Nurse Cerys had to do was dangle that carrot in front of her and Lara would begin finding reasons to justify it to herself.

She found herself on the operating table, sedated, staring at a pernicious-looking laser. It was controlled by computers, and spent quite some time carving grooves into her corneas. Somewhere during all of that, it sprayed a substance beneath her incision that created a tingling sensation she felt through the anesthetics, then she was blindfolded and led back to her cell.

That began an entire day of healing, but it also marked a welcome break from the constant pink light that flooded her cell. For the first time in her stay here, they allowed her a full night’s worth of sleep. She even had dreams, although they all seemed to entail her working as a waitress or a maid for some demanding employer. Robin appeared in those dreams, not as a friend, but as an especially demanding customer who whined about how her feet hurt.

The next morning, Nurse Cerys removed her blindfold, and Lara found the difference bone-chilling.

She could see the woman’s angelic face when it was just a few feet away from her face, but if she moved much farther than that and she seemed to dissolve into a pink fog. Added to this was a newly-developed nearsightedness. Even if the ever-present fog didn’t grow thicker the more Lara tried to look into the distance, she still had an amazingly difficult time making out the woman’s face. Squinting didn’t seem to help, and the Tomb Liberator was especially concerned that even within this small cell she was having difficulties seeing clearly. What would the larger world look like?

She hurried over to the mirror, perturbed by how close she had to get to even see her own face clearly. Lara gasped when she noticed that her eyes looked completely strange! They were still grey, yes, but they had noticeable flecks of gold floating about around the iris—hypnotic things that looked a little like little golden leaves. They reminded her of something she would see in a snow globe.

“What—what is this?” Lara asked. It was beautiful, but in an otherworldly way, like she was some mythical nymph.

“It is a symbiotic colony of bacteria that reside atop the iris. They coalesce into different shapes, isn’t it amazing? They say it provokes the appetite of whomever you make eye contact with, like it’s the miracle cure for erectile dysfunction.”

Lara couldn’t believe such things existed. They were entrancing in a purely objectifying way, like she was a doll with a very specific purpose.

“But why the pink fog? Is that a temporary thing? And why can’t I see very far—am I still recovering?”

“That’s a side effect of the procedure. And no, it’s permanent.”

Lara felt a pit in her stomach at this news. She could barely see five feet in front of her—forget hunting for game and sneaking past guards. Practically anyone could get the drop on her.

“But it can be fixed with these proprietary glasses! Here,”

There wasn’t much comfort in that. The glasses that Nurse Cerys handed her had large lenses and thick black frames, and they seemed to be made of glass. Odd, because nearly all eyeglasses were made of plastic these days for reasons of convenience.

When she put them on, she had to admit they accentuated her face nicely, but she looked like a sexy librarian! They only improved her vision slightly, for all that hassle. Sure, she could see Nurse Cerys’s face, and they cut through the fog in the near distance at least. But she knew it was still there, just off a bit farther. This ‘treatment’ had effectively foreshortened her vision, and to an alarming extent.

The glasses threatened to fall down her face when she bowed her head even slightly, because their arms barely gripped her ears. It would take almost constant attention to keep them on—another subtle way that the institution was exerting its control over her. For how expensive they looked, she was certain that they would shatter instantly if they fell from her ski slope nose.

“Oh, and they will need to be polished very often with a proprietary gel, or they lose a lot of their effectiveness. We will get you some, but it’s quite expensive and it must be kept in a special freezer to work.”

Another jab to send the poor girl reeling! Already the glasses seemed like they were fogging—or was it her imagination? She could see it in her mind now: a new, nagging compulsion to tie up more of her time. A girl in the habit of meekly removing her bulky eyeglasses to reverently polish their surface, before putting them back on. And the freezer was just another layer of dependency! A subtle anchor to keep her tethered in a single place, for her constant need of refills. How could she possibly carry such a thing on an wilderness hike or an adventure? She fumed about it: trying to enjoy a winter forest or sweeping landscape, only to have the fog roll in and remind her that the institution didn’t permit such things.

But to what end?

Nurse Cerys left her, and Lara had to leave the stupid glasses on to watch the smartscreen in her room. It was probably no more than an hour before the things had lost much of their effectiveness, and a pink fog cluttered her vision, lightly obscuring the small distance between her and the screen. There was nothing she could do about it, either, until Nurse Cerys came back and gave Lara a small plastic vial and a disposable eyeglass cleaning pad that was scarcely larger than her fingertip. It took the teenage girl quite some time to properly clean her glasses—at least ten minutes, and judging by the size of the pads, she would never manage to clean them much faster.

The institution responded by moving the smartscreen lower, since it was obviously impractical for Nurse Cerys to constantly give Lara more of the cleaning gel. This was worrisome. If this ritual with her glasses was impractical here, where she had basically nothing to do all day and a staff looking after her needs, how in the world would she fit this restrictive practice into her daily routine once she got home? Lara had to sit very near to the smartscreen when her glasses fogged up, her regal face no more than half a meter away from it, bathed in its bright lights and comforting images.

Was it her imagination, or did this help the screen dominate her thinking all the better?

She knew she should be more outraged, but this place did mess with her sense of reality. The march of days seemed to wear her down and make it difficult to rouse herself to meaningful action—she knew from the tattoo incident that any amount of resistance would be punished. Beyond that, the longer she stayed in this room the more her memories became jumbled and distant. The smartscreen was a blessing: she was sure she would have had a panic attack if not for its constant comfort. Whenever she felt anxiety or anger come on, it was so much easier to calm herself by stroking her tattoos and losing herself in whatever it showed.

To her great relief, the meeting with her uncle wasn’t just an exercise in humiliation; apparently he did succeed i getting Lara into the educational program. Nurse Cerys had told her so, and had even said that she would have another interview with Doctor Wu. If that went well, she could start school the next day!

Lara was on pins and needles as she slipped on her straitjacket and stepped into the white micro panties that Nurse Cerys held open for her, although it was quite a task to keep her glasses on her face without being able to touch them at all. She adapted to this challenge by moving differently: keeping her head high and taking slow, measured steps. At this point, she was so starved for a challenge that even this absurd task provided relief.

This time, Lara readily sat down on the little wooden stool, and smiled sweetly at the doctor. Instead of using the ankle cuffs to keep her in place, this time Nurse Cerys stood behind her with one hand resting on either of her shoulders. It was wonderful to have the human contact, even if it was an obvious way of keeping her in her place.

“Well, your eyes look amazing! Even from here, they are quite beautiful... It’s a little distracting!” the Asian woman quipped.

“Thanks...?” Lara answered. She found no joy in the fact that her eyes were so pleasing to the view. Could they ‘awaken the appetite’ of women too? She didn’t like the look Dr. Wu was giving her.

“Well, we have reviewed your psychological profile, and we’ve drafted a personalized program just for you. And the tuition has been fully paid: your beneficiary was extremely concerned that you get the therapy that’s... most suitable for your well-being. In fact, she even gave us 400,000!”

“Who was—” Lara began.

“She requested anonymity,” the doctor said, “what generous friends you have! And believe me, she is helping you. You would kiss her feet in gratitude, if you knew what she spared you from.”

The idea of kissing another woman’s feet was an anathema for Lara. She wrinkled her pretty nose at the mere mention of it, even as the repugnant image bounced around her mind in the way that offensive ideas will.

Please, not Robin. A memory flitted through Lara’s mind of when she and Robin were sharing a sofa and the girl had the audacity to try and rest her bare feet in Lara’s lap. She said it was something friends do, but Lara knew that Robin would never in a million years permit someone else to use her as a foot rest! Then Lara thought of Robin’s awful smirk she had whenever she got something she wanted—ugh!

“Anyway, Miss Galkowska will be your instructor,” Dr. Wu continued, pronouncing the woman’s name gal-cough-ska.

“Of all our instructors, she is probably the most severe. I know you might clash with her personality, but we think that you would grow under her.”

“What is happening with my court case with Mrs. Liao?” Lara asked, feeling the sudden absence of Nurse Cerys’s hands from her shoulders. She didn’t dare to turn her head—or her glasses would certainly fall.

“Nothing—still delayed sixteen months, maybe more. Unless, you have re-considered her settlement? I will warn you: she is a bit angry you didn’t accept her first offer. Her new terms are that you would still be her live-in domestic servant, but now as a permanent non-resident alien, and without any labour protections. She’s old-school Taiwanese, like caning her servants for leaving the butter out, so you’d probably want those protections.”

“No,” Lara said, disturbed by how casually Dr. Wu had brushed over this obvious case of abuse.

“Okay. Well, you will be fitted for your uniform now, and class begins in the morning. Good luck!”

Nurse Cerys returned, and fastened a cold object around Lara’s neck—she knew right away it was a collar. Back to Lara’s cell, where she was taken out of the straitjacket and the panties, then measured in every conceivable way by the pretty blonde Nurse. She liked the feeling of measuring tape across her body. It reminded her of the massages she would get, or when she would be fitted for an evening gown to attend some high society event.

“Get a good night’s sleep, and I will have your uniform tomorrow!”

As though Lara had anything resembling a good night’s sleep in her entire time there! Apart from when she was recovering from her surgery, of course. Four hours beneath the pink LED lights, then she was roused from her half-slumber by an alarm bell.

Nurse Cerys came in with a small pile of clothes, which amounted to a red knife-pleated skirt in a plaid pattern, a relatively sensible white blouse, and a pair of red ballet flats. At this point, the process had been drilled into Lara’s mind: she didn’t attempt to dress herself, but instead allowed the nurse to put all of these things on her. It was refreshing to actually have her feet covered again: even though the schoolgirl outfit did much to show off her long legs and toned body, it was closer to “normal” than anything she had worn so far.

Lara followed the nurse into another room down the hall.

She was amazed as she walked into a place that actually had other patients in it! Each one was seated at an old-fashioned school desk, quietly looking at the front of the room. Lara wanted to call out to them, but Nurse Cerys had made it abundantly clear that there was to be no speaking outside of ‘free time.’ Instead, she drank in their features, trying to gleam whatever she could from the way these other women looked.

None of them seemed very comfortable, and she immediately understood why. The seats to the desks were quite narrow, with sharp edges that dug into her butt as soon as she put her full weight down on it. Each of the other girls had their hands neatly folded on their desks, and were wearing an outfit similar to hers. They were all very beautiful, but she didn’t have much time to look around.

Soon, a mature woman barged into the room, causing several of the girls to straighten their backs instinctively. This must be Miss Galkowska, Lara thought, as she examined the imposing Polish woman. She had an apple-shaped face and dark blonde hair that she kept in a tight bun. What caught Lara’s eye immediately was the green apple in the woman’s hand—half-eaten already, she took a big bite from the fruit and the sound echoed across the room. Several of the girls were practically drooling at the sight of real food, Lara included.

“Sarah, be a dear and wipe my mouth,” the woman called out.

Sarah, a willowy blonde with milky white skin, got to her feet and scurried up to the teacher. Lara was treated to a very strange introduction to this ‘classroom’ as the blonde girl—who must have been no older than 20—wiped the corners of Miss Galkowska’s mouth with her bare hand, which she in turn wiped on her own bare thigh even though it would have made more sense to use a napkin, or even her own clothing! The girl stood at attention afterwards, staring at the apple with wide eyes.

Miss Galkowska took another bite. She was wearing a two-button jacket over a white blouse, and a black skirt that strained against her impossibly wide hips. Lara could tell she had quite large breasts—and her plump thighs were encased in opera-length stockings.

“Who would like the rest of this apple?” she addressed the class.

Every hand went up but Lara’s. She might have liked it fresh, but the woman seemed like she had run her mouth and tongue over every bit, and Lara never enjoyed sharing food to begin with. It was one of her pet peeves. Still, being the only person in the room to not raise her hand made her feel singled out.

“Hm, Miss Swift, is there anything wrong? Wouldn’t you like some real food instead of that gruel they feed you?”

“No,” Lara answered, “I just—”

“Address me as ma’am, please.”

“No, ma’am,” Lara corrected herself, “I just don’t like leftovers.”

“Typical posh Londoner,” the woman said, her voice dripping with contempt, “like your mouth is too sacred to tough the slightest speck of dirt or—heaven forbid—saliva. Sarah, kneel.”

The blonde girl looked pained, but immediately clamored down to her knees.

“Sarah here had all kinds of hang-ups and prissy attitudes when she came into my classroom. One of those types of girls who Instagrams her meals from the most expensive restaurants in Belarus. But see how far we have come!”

Miss Galkowska lowered the fruit to Sarah’s mouth, and the girl bit off half of it, core and all, and started chewing!

“Thank you, ma’am,” the girl said through her full mouth. The look on her face showed how disgusted she was to eat this woman’s trash, but she didn’t stop chewing. Lara wondered if the girl would eat the stem, too! She could have easily be an Instagram model for her beauty. Lara wondered if that was why she was so familiar.

“Since it is your first day, Miss Swift, I will make you the same offer I make to every girl. If you can beat me in a hand-to-hand fight, you will be exempt from classes here. I will see that you get a real T.V. in your room, access to any books you might want, and I will even undo that ridiculous surgery they foisted upon you. It actually is reversible, if you catch it before the bacteria reach critical mass.”

As she lectured Lara, she lowered the apple to Sarah’ again, who took another healthy bite. She looked utterly pathetic especially because she didn’t dare to take her hands from her lap all the while.

“On top of all that, you will receive real food.”

The apple did more to incentivize Lara than anything—how she missed real food!

“And what if I lose?” she asked, although Lara hated being the one to suggest that she might lose.

Miss Galkowska smiled.

“If you lose, you will become my teacher’s pet for the duration of the class. All of your behavior will be under the microscope, and you will be punished more quickly and more severely than any other girl here. You will have a different outfit, reflecting your new status, and new responsibilities. It is extremely demanding—the last girl who lost to me ended up quite disturbed by the end of our time together. I believe she works in a massage parlor now that’s exclusively for plus-sized women, even though she herself is a twiggy thing. Eating disorder, apparently. It seems like the only satisfaction she can get in life is from being ordered around by ladies with a certain body type. A real shame, she was a Russian beauty who even did the catwalk for a while.”

Lara looked at this fat cow of a woman and weighed her options. She had been trained in several styles of martial arts, and it was to her advantage that she was quite a bit younger than her opponent. Even with all that in her favor, this was obviously a trap, and the woman had certain predatory look about her. In the end, the idea of getting her eyesight back was too good to pass up.

“Very well. I accept,” Lara said, causing each of the other girls to gasp.

Miss Galkowska couldn’t have been happier.

Sarah shook her head to warn Lara against this decision, but it was too late now. The Polish woman stuffed the rest of her apple core into the blonde’s mouth and it hung out in a way that would have been comical, except for her pitiable expression. Then she wiped her hands in the girl’s hair.

“That’s the spirit! I am going to enjoy having you as my little pet. I think I can do even better with your training than I did with that Russian brat... Girls, please move your desks to the sides of the room and stand at attention.”

Lara’s heart was pounding as she moved her own desk, then stood in the middle of the room to face off against the evil Miss Galkowska. The woman stepped out of her platform clogs and a brunette scurried over to pick them up and placed them on her desk. As though they were too precious to rest on the floor!

“Your first homework assignment is going to be to lick those clogs clean, girl. But before that, you’ll need to bury your nose in them and masturbate for a good hour. To completion, with my worn stockings covering your bruised hands.”

Lara just smiled.

“I won’t be seeing you much after today,” she replied smoothly, “so you can take your sick fantasies and just stuff them up your fat arse!”

Miss Galkowska narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll make you rub your clit raw with the foot of my stocking for that, little pet. And the other will be stuffed in your arrogant mouth for taking that tone with me. Now, are you ready?”

“Definitely,” Lara said, tossing those stupid glasses off in an act of heroic defiance.

For a moment, Lara was the Tomb Liberator again, feeling out her opponent and enjoying the thrill of fighting back against this woman who personified all the worst aspects of this institution. Miss Galkowska was faster than she had let on—nearly dancing about as she blocked or or evaded most of Lara’s cautious jabs. The first sign of trouble was when Lara dropped her guard for a mere moment, and Miss Galkowska slapped her with full force, right across the face!

It was intended more to humiliate Lara more than to do any harm, and she was careful not to lose her temper or overreact. But even with all the adrenaline going, Lara still felt the blow. The woman had quite an arm.

“You’ll thank me for every slap soon enough,” Miss Galkowska taunted. She wasn’t the least bit short of breath, unlike Lara who was already feeling a little exerted.

It went downhill from there.

The thick instructor had a countermove for each of Lara’s approaches. Soon it became clear that the woman was toying with Lara, deliberately letting the teenage girl wear herself out and witness the fact that all of her physical prowess wasn’t enough to win out. Lara could only land a few glancing blows against the woman, and she had been slapped across the face several times for doing even that much!

Lara felt uncertainty creep on about this fight, and it must have showed in her face because the fat Polish woman took the offensive.

Soon, Lara was fending off blows as best she could and backpedaling in circles as the woman expertly drilled through her feeble defenses.

“Augh!” Lara cried out as the woman landed a jab precariously close to her solar plexus.

It was just a feint. It did its job of distracting the the brunette girl from the left uppercut that buried itself between her ninth and tenth ribs. It was a liver shot—more painful and terrifying than anything Lara had experienced in her short life. Her entire body shut down and she collapsed to the floor. Worse than anything was that her thoughts were unaffected—she was telling her body “Bloody hell! Move! Get back up, damnit! I can’t lose!!!” to no avail. The pain was excruciating.

“Oh, calm down. You’ll be fine,” Miss Galkowska said, as she came back with a set of handcuffs.

She grabbed Lara’s toned arms and forced them behind the girls back to handcuff her wrists together—there wasn’t much resistance. Each of the other students watched with looks of profound sympathy, as Lara had her ankles cuffed together too. After several minutes, she finally had a grip on her body, but she had already lost.

She was the teacher’s pet now.

Miss Galkowska smirked down at her, resting her hands on her full hips.

“That was a good fight,” the woman said, “but it looks like you lost.”

She began removing her black stockings, really making a show of it in front of her humiliated opponent. Lara was frowning, unable to believe what just happened. She was cursing her arrogance for falling for such an obvious trap.

“We will have time enough to sort out your new role later. For now, I am giving you a day of bed rest. During that time, I expect you to take these stockings,”

The woman held out her silk lingerie so that the toes dangled mere inches from Lara’s face.

“And put one over your right hand. You will masturbate with that hand, most vigorously. Like you are exfoliating your clitoris—do it too softly and I will have to show you the proper way first hand. You don’t want that.”

Lara grimaced at the thought. It was unreal how disgusting she found this idea, but she had lost and now she was at the mercy of a woman who clearly had none.

“The other, you will hold up to your face with your left hand, so that the foot covers your nose. If you don’t have an orgasm, you had better fake one. Keep going after the first orgasm. Have as many as you are capable of. Keep your eyes on the screen the entire time, and don’t try to hide yourself from the cameras. I will be watching.”

She motioned Lara to stand, and put her stockings in the girl’s hands. They were soft, and damp, and made her cringe.

“The clogs, you can deal with later. I will wear them barefoot for a while, to get you accustomed to my tired feet. You will be dealing with THOSE a lot, I guarantee. Now, off to your room!”

The woman slapped Lara’s ass quite hard, and Nurse Cerys appeared to usher her back to her little cell. Lara walked like a woman condemned, with Miss Galkowska’s rancid stockings practically burning in her hands. They were the intimate apparel of the woman who had just utterly dominated her, and she was about to rub them against her most intimate spot in a totally humiliating act of surrender!

Nurse Cerys brushed one hand against Lara’s back tattoo. It was a small gesture that meant the world to the defeated Tomb Liberator.

“It’s really too bad,” she said with honest pity, “that she plays such a mean trick on people. Anyone who volunteers for that challenge is the exact sort she enjoys reining-in. But don’t disobey her—she has a lot of leeway over your treatment.”

“I’m sorry you lost.”

With that, Lara was left alone in her padded cell again and stripped of all her clothes, of course. She examined her bruised body in the mirror, and could see the clear imprint of Miss Galkowska’s hand across her cheek. Soon she heard the woman’s voice through unseen speakers, and it heightened her shame and vulnerability by making her feel like she wasn’t capable of being alone.

“Please begin your homework, Miss Swift. See the smartscreen in the corner of the room? Go lie down in front of it, with your shoulders resting against the wall, for comfort. That’s it, good pet. Now, lift your knees high and spread them apart to give the cameras a good view.”

Lara was blushing scarlet at this wanton display of her exquisite teenage body. She had spent so long preserving her modesty, only to have it shattered in the worst possible way.

“Now, pull one of those stockings over your right hand, and smile! Goodness, you look like a depressed little thing. That’s a good girl. You know what to do with the other one.”

Lara brought up the fetid, damp thing to her nose and was right away overwhelmed with its odor. Sharp, and pungent, and unpleasant in the extreme like an acquired taste she would never grasp. Not that she would want to! It cut through her thinking, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in protest. In spite of all that, she took a deep breath through her nose, registering all the awful scent of the woman’s unwashed feet.

This was the most sensory input she had received in weeks, and even though it was horrid, her mind desperately took in every little detail out of the sheer novelty of it.

“Now, reach down and start playing with your little clit for me,” Miss Galkowska ordered in a sweet voice.

Lara did as she was told, rubbing one stocking-covered hand against her little love button. There wasn’t much arousal at first, just the uncomfortable sensation of silky friction against her most tender area. The screen sprang to life, showing, of all things, a nail salon!

Ugh, was there anything worse?

Lara had adored nail salons—it was one of the few things she could do with her friends that they would all enjoy. Sure, the power dynamic was weird, but she would always tip the girls who rubbed her feet and polished her nails quite generously to make up for that fact. It’s not like it was an unpleasant job, at least when she was the one sitting in the pedicure chair. After all, she had been featured on magazines as the hottest bachelorette in the UK, and there were even websites where people posted pictures of her feet in admiration!

But this was different.

It was a nail salon, edited to show the pedicurist’s perspective.

A statuesque girl with ivory white skin hurried to finish up her meager lunch—not much more than a cheap cup of noodles. Then she hurried out to a bustling salon floor and met her client—a snobby Muslim girl who clearly came from oil money. There were shots of the muslim girl’s soles as they were exfoliated, and then her expensive shoes lying nearby. They contrasted sharply with the technician’s cheap patent leather court shoes. Each part of the pedicure was shown in excruciating detail from multiple camera angles. As though it were an instructional video told from a technician’s point-of-view! The Muslim girl had meaty soles and chubby little toes, even though her feet were probably a size 5.

The entire time, Lara was rubbing her clit, which responded more than she would have liked it to.

She kept ruminating on her failure, inhaling the aroma of Miss Galkowska’s feet as she fingered herself shamelessly, and with much more force than she would have preferred.

“Harder, Lara. I said exfoliating—you’re practically tickling yourself!”

Lara scowled as she rubbed her clit with yet more force. At this speed, the silk had an almost coarse texture, and it was more of a pain than a pleasure. It took quite some endurance to keep up at this pace—her arm was burning soon and she slacked a few times out of sheer fatigue. Miss Galkowska seemed to permit it, but only on the reasoning that it would allow Lara to continue this torment for even longer.

Lara felt abject humiliation as she felt an unwanted orgasm approach. She tried to suppress it, but this stupid way of masturbating seemed to just about force it on her.

“Now, put that stocking in your mouth. All the way in, and make sure that the foot of it is touching your pretty tongue. What a good pet! Now, you know what to do, Lara.”

Lara shook her head, and furrowed her brow, and tried to will her body not to react to the touch she had been craving for weeks. The stocking tasted bitter, and salty, and these were the only things Lara had tasted in so long! It was all too much! She chomped down on them, beautiful agony, but she just couldn’t do it! Not like this!

“Cum for me, pet.”

“Mmmph!” Lara cried out, her girlish squeal muffled by Miss Galkowska’s filthy stockings that filled her mouth so perfectly.

Lara Swift, the Tomb Liberator, had a profound climax while rubbing her clit in the corner of her little padded cell. She lost all semblance of control, stroking her clit out of her own desire, not because Miss Galkowska had ordered her to. For a moment, she forgot about the cameras, and being the teacher’s pet, and just felt the ecstasy of being alive. The floodgates truly broke, and she could only adore this awesome new feeling explode within her after being trapped in a bleak desert for so long.

She was sweating by the end of it, and breathing quite heavily. Still, she wrung out every last drop of joy from herself in that comfie, temperature-controlled room. She realized she had been groping the feather on her breast all the while, which seemed to make her cum even harder.

But when the climax finished, she saw the smirking face of the Muslim girl, as though she knew what Lara just did and was looking down on her in condemnation. Lara’s shame at her own lust was quick to return, along with her outrage at being kept like some kind of sex prisoner in this insane asylum. Who was viewing the footage from those cameras?!

“I didn’t say you could stop. Begin again,” came Miss Galkowska’s voice.

The smart screen changed to a different program. This time, a scantily-clad Nubian woman was chained to the throne of a millenial Marie Antoinette-type blonde. The two were in a sort of period costume, or a modern re-imagining of it. The queen wore a navy blue vintage Chanel suit that had a plunging neckline that showed off her perfect breasts, a matching microskirt, and peep-toed shoes in a rosegold color. The dark-skinned woman was dressed in some pervert’s conception of a tribal garment—little more than a torn lambskin tube top that failed to cover bottoms of her breasts, and a grass miniskirt. Her collar, and the chain connecting it to the queen’s throne were made of gold, as were the large bangles around her wrists and ankles.

Marie was resting her feet on the black girl’s lap, and kicked one stiletto off, looking down at the woman expectantly. From the Nubian woman’s pride, Lara could clearly tell she was a captive warrior. Just like her. Still, she obediently leaned forward and placed a kiss on the bottom of her mistress’s pampered foot. That wasn’t enough, though, and soon the Nubian woman was practically bathing the white woman’s feet in kisses—kisses given with no small measure of indignation.

The queen smiled a little, parting her red lips to show her perfectly white teeth. She even had a crown that was woven into her hair in such a way that loose tresses fell to frame her face.

The camera panned back, to show an entire court of slave girls from all the nations of the earth bearing wine and fruits and gifts of money to the bitchy woman. She didn’t seem impressed with any of their offers, but smiled to see each one of them grovel before her. Every supplicant was bedecked with crowns and other jewelry signifying their royal backgrounds; they laid these things a growing pile at the woman’s feet. Her toes were painted a gold color, and immaculately pedicured.

Lara’s clit was far too sensitive to have another orgasm, especially considering the black mesh that encased her dainty hands. The stockings felt far too coarse now—this self-stimulation was torturous. She didn’t dare stop, and kept on masturbating as the Queen stood up to survey her kingdom.

She carried with her a riding crop and, from a certain angle, she looked too much like Robin De Eresby.

Lara was in tears before long, and begging to stop by the time Miss Galkowska finally gave her permission to do so. Her clit felt so raw she that she never wanted to touch it again in her life. Could she do lasting damage to herself in this way? She got to her feet, feeling utterly beaten, and went to lie down in her bed to sleep.

Miss Galkowska insisted she leave the stockings exactly as they were, and Lara didn’t dare disobey her teacher. She looked once more at the smartscreen to see it was showing her own face as she reached her orgasm! It even had complex computer infographics that were analyzing her facial expressions in great detail. The finer points were lost on her, though, because she couldn’t see clearly at such a distance, and found it unnerving in any case.

It seemed like the camera could track her micro-expressions, though, and was in the process of annotating, quantifying, and comparing the smallest movements in her gorgeous face. She didn’t seem to be smiling in any of them. It gave her the appearance of an ice queen who was giving the viewer an extremely personal glimpse into her private life.