Given to the Club by Emily Tilton
Chapter 10
Gerard
I could see in Miniver’s expression the easy blend of honor and liberality that had made me choose him as a potential husband for Helena. Even as he performed this humiliating exercise upon her in the presence of the club, he had a certain tenderness in his expression that indicated a regard for her, and for her education.
With a calm blue gaze he looked down upon the girl’s crimson face as he rubbed her nose and mouth against the rigidity that strained the placket of his woolen trousers. The little smile of satisfaction upon his lips and the gentleness of his hands in her golden tresses made me think of my own affection for the girl despite the monstrous fact of her treason.
Miniver would not marry Helena Breverton, now, of course. Indeed, unless she emigrated to another planet, marriage did not lie in the girl’s future at all. Helena had fallen, in the eyes of her society, and would remain that way always.
Some fallen women, however—to my mind the most interesting kind, and truly from my perspective the best sort of women in the galaxy—won the continuing protection of gentlemen like Miniver, and like me. After receiving the consequences of their misdeeds, they had the opportunity to lead a life of active, useful service to their world—not merely in the beds of their protectors but in whatever milieu their talents permitted them a place.
At the moment, however, Miss Helena Breverton must learn her lesson. I felt exceedingly fortunate both on her behalf and on my own that the man to discover the full extent of her treason was Mr. Jacob Miniver. He held her sweet, disobedient face in his hands, pressing it against the well-outlined shape of his cock, and he clearly understood precisely what Doctor Elias intended Helena to learn from her humiliating position.
The girl’s little sobs indicated that she, too, understood. From now on, the sexual desires of the men in charge of her naked person would be as law unto her. If a man wished to use her face as source of pleasure, she would bend and he would do as he liked. Even more piquant and, for me, cock-stiffening, was the other element of her education: Doctor Elias meant Miniver to teach Helena just how strong a sway the male member had upon her, even unseen.
Her hips gave a little jerk, and a louder sob emerged from the front of Miniver’s trousers as if the girl felt keenly the wanton immodesty of that bodily movement. The doctor had been waiting for such a sign, it seemed, for he said to me, “Professor, if you would just stroke the buttocks, now, I think we will gain Miss Breverton’s compliance while also instructing her in the benefits of obedience.”
* * *
Helena
The doctor’s words imparted no sense to my ears at first. My world comprised the shamefully warm front of Mr. Miniver’s trousers, the stretched wool and the hardness beneath it against which he moved my face. With gentle thrusts of his hips, too, he pressed the big, unseen thing against my nose and mouth in a slow rhythm. Though he made no sound, I could feel the tensing of his muscles, and I had the overwhelming impression that the man who had once courted me, who had discovered my treason, was taking great enjoyment from these obscene movements that degraded me so thoroughly.
When Professor Simmons’ hand moved to my bottom, though, I found the doctor’s words in my memory, and I replayed them, understanding them with a new blaze of heat in my already scarlet face. That warmth seemed as nothing though, compared to the much more mortifying sensation beneath my belly, the nearly scalding electric thrill that made me cry out into Mr. Miniver’s lap.
My guardian’s gentle fingertips caressed the terrible marks he had made with his strap. I felt tears prickle in my nose as I remembered his kindness in letting me use his dataport. I remembered the sympathetic way he had questioned me about my courtship. Despite his guardian’s duty to inspect me for signs of immodesty in such a humiliating fashion, he had tried to introduce me gently to the necessities of Prosperian womanhood.
The simple physical sensation of those knowing fingers joined with those memories, uniting mind and body. The professor moved them down a little, and inward a little, toward the place I wanted them most—and did not want them at all. Mr. Miniver held my face gently against his unseen masculinity and I caught again the scent of his manly fragrance.
“Show us you can be a good girl,” the doctor said from somewhere nearby. “Kiss the membrum virile through Mr. Miniver’s trousers, and show these gentlemen your vulva properly, and your guardian will give you your first orgasm.”
The fingers on my bottom moved so close to the very center, caressing the tender places the professor’s hand had punished so severely. The soreness from my whipping and the warmth from my wantonness merged. I moaned, and I understood even without being told that if I submitted with my mouth and my backside, my obedience would have a reward I longed for above everything despite not truly knowing why, or what it meant.
I kissed the fabric that covered the hard thing, and I arched my back, feeling how it showed my shaven private part to the assembled gentlemen. I cried out in shame and need, once just to know they could see me that way, my whipped bottom and my wet pussy.
Then I cried out again, because my guardian had moved his fingers to fondle me even more intimately, using an urgent rhythm upon my virgin cleft, spreading my shameful wetness upward. When he touched me in the place that seemed to burn the hottest, my whole body shuddered and bucked. I thrust my bottom out even further, the terrible immodesty of it only seeming to increase the heat there. To my dismay, all my resolve not to show my need flew away, and I began to ride the hand between my legs shamelessly, like a little girl on her first pony ride.
“That’s it, you little whore,” I heard Justice Warren say. “You know what you need.”
As I kissed Mr. Miniver’s lap, the inkling of an understanding from which I had always previously shied away began to come to me—the idea that what lay hidden there might go in the place my guardian caressed. My whole body seemed to go white hot at the thought, and the impression that my ride upon the professor’s hand had a destination gave way in an instant to that ecstatic, humiliating release.
The hands on my face, on my arms, on my back held me in place as I screamed with the pleasure of my first climax. My body writhed in their grasp, and the resistance seemed to make the shudders of ecstasy reverberate through my muscles. As the spasms left me, I heard the applause of the audience, and I let all thought depart from my mind so as not to have to know the abject shame of what had just befallen me.
They led me thus unthinking to the awful chair, and I allowed my still trembling, nearly limp limbs to be positioned by the doctor and my guardian. Mr. Miniver had returned to his seat.
“Strap her in, there’s a good fellow, Professor,” I heard the doctor say. “Better if there’s no question of her interfering with the procedure.”
I watched my guardian do it, wondering why I didn’t struggle against the belt they buckled around my waist, the cuffs around my wrists. With the heat surging in my face, I even watched him buckle straps around my thighs, just above my knees, to hold them in the horrid stirrups. Between my spread, raised legs, I saw the faces of the gentlemen of Drake’s club, looking closely at everything a nude young lady could show them, and that sight made me close my eyes at last, with a little sob at the terribly mingled feelings that ran through my body.
“There,” the doctor said. “Now you can see her fully, gentlemen. I must say she’s quite pretty. A physician must remain objective about these things—including in the matter of acknowledging his quite subjective feelings. So I do not hesitate to say that I plan to enter the lottery for an individual session of intercourse with Miss Breverton.”
I tried not to understand. I certainly didn’t understand the word intercourse. The chuckle that ran through the assembly, however, told me that the doctor had just made known his wish to enjoy my body as a husband—so my reading had said—enjoys his wife.
As I knew now these men would enjoy me, whatever my opinion on the matter.
The doctor continued, “I was able to get a very good idea of the girl’s lubricity and the strength of her sexual needs from the little exercise we just put her through, and so we may proceed to the installation of her governor. We shall apply it in such a way that you all may get a look at its immediate effect on her pudenda. Professor, perhaps you would like to show Miss Breverton the device that will allow her to regain her modesty?”
I opened my eyes; I could not help it. The doctor had just handed something to my guardian—something too small for me to see at first, until the professor held his palm open before my face and I saw it, the terrible instrument against which I had fought in vain.
“Here,” he said, “is the object you committed treason to avoid, Helena. You will receive not your husband’s governor, now, but the club’s, for you belong to us from henceforth.”
It resembled nothing so much as a tiny shield, as from an ancient legend of chivalry, its color the same blue that adorned the arms of Drake’s club. I could just see the delicate little wires that would enter my skin, though I knew they would not hurt. With horror I had read of this little ritual, of girls spread for the installation of a man’s control over their most private place. I struggled feebly against the straps that bound me to the chair, faint in the knowledge that I had no choice, now: I would wear my masters’ governor as long as they saw fit for me to serve them.
Professor Simmons turned to the gentlemen in their comfortable seats and said, “You do not yet know, my fellow members, what sort of treason my ward committed to bring her here as our plaything. She aided the foolish criminals of the Anti-Governor Resistance League.”
That drew a murmur and a laugh from the audience. My brow furrowed as I kept my eyes on the tiny blue governor on the professor’s palm, my lip caught between my teeth.
“I am sad to say that she learned of the governor through accessing information forbidden to young ladies, on my own dataport.”
The sounds from the members of the club seemed much more sympathetic to my guardian than angry at him. I closed my eyes and felt tears trickle beneath the lids.
“A true comeuppance, then,” I heard Justice Warren say with satisfaction.
“Just reach down and place it on the young lady’s clitoris,” the doctor said. “The governor will orient itself correctly, and position its electrodes properly on its own.”
Again I found I could not keep from watching. My eyes flew open and I saw my guardian’s hand reach down over my bare hip. Now I struggled in true earnest, but the belt and straps held me fast. The tiny thing on his forefinger moved inexorably toward the part of me that—worst of all—wouldn’t stop tingling as if in traitorous anticipation of these men’s control over my naked body.