To have his penis in my mouth makes me very happy because it makes his penis hard, and that means it feels good to him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but that only made the images worse. The painting of Anya draped over Hendrick’s knee. The diorama of the bride kneeling before her groom. Glomana’s serene expression as she described the joy of submission.
My body felt strange—warm in places it shouldn’t be, despite the cool air of the observation car. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, pressing my thighs together, trying to ignore the sensation building between them.
This was exactly what Ms. Opalin had warned me about. The Magisterians would try to confuse me, to make me doubt my own values, to awaken feelings that contradicted everything I believed about equality and freedom. I needed to stay focused, to remember who I was and what I stood for.
But Glomana hadn’t seemed confused. She hadn’t seemed oppressed or broken. She had seemed… happy.
The train began to ascend, and suddenly we were approaching the surface. The ice gave way to the thin atmosphere of Magisteria’s exterior, and I found myself staring at a landscape unlike anything I had ever imagined. The planet’s surface was a frozen wasteland of crystalline formations and sweeping plains of snow that caught the light of Magisteria’s distant sun in spectacular refractions. Strange ice formations rose like sculptures, shaped by winds that had blown for centuries across this inhospitable terrain.
“It’s beautiful,” Mabola whispered beside me.
Itwasbeautiful. Alien and harsh and utterly beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.
Just like that painting of Anya had been beautiful, in its own disturbing way. The composition, the use of light and shadow, the expression on her face that I still couldn’t quite interpret.
The train descended back into the ice, returning us to the warmth and safety of the underground facility. The journey back to the reception center seemed to pass in moments, though I knew it must have taken the same amount of time as the outward trip. I was too lost in my own thoughts to track the minutes properly.
When we arrived, Ms. Haspor stood and addressed us. “Now, girls, we’re going to proceed to what I consider the most important part of today’s visit. Please follow me.”
She led us through yet another series of corridors until we reached a small theater. On the little stage was a piece of furniture that I didn’t recognize, except that it bore a slight resemblance to an examination chair from a gynecologist’s office. My attention, though, was drawn by a more immediate furniture-related problem: the seats in the audience of the theater, though definitely identifiable as such, were also unlike any I had seen before—padded and comfortable-looking, but with seat bottoms apparently molded to receive the backside of a young woman. I felt heat mount to my cheeks just looking at their curved contours. The surface seemed to be upholstered in high-quality synthetic leather.
“Take your seats,” Ms. Haspor instructed. “And please note that these chairs are equipped with monitoring technology. Your responses today are being evaluated.”
My stomach dropped.Evaluated.This was the part where I had to be at my strongest, but I felt terribly confused.
I sat down hesitantly. To my dismay, the seat felt warm and much too welcoming under my naked bottom. Around me, my classmates were settling into their own seats, some looking nervous, others—like Brequa—almost eager.
The lights dimmed, and a figure walked onto the small stage at the front of the theater. He was tall, imposing, with striking blue skin that seemed to shimmer even in the low light. His uniform marked him as a high-ranking officer, the purple and silver insignia of the Magisterian star fleet prominent on his chest.
“Good afternoon, young women of Hippolyta,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the space. “My name is Captain Alpha of the star fleet cruiser Prince Hend. I want to begin by explaining exactly what is happening here today.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping across all of us. When his eyes met mine, I felt something clench in my stomach.
“The seats you’re sitting in are monitoring your physiological responses—heart rate, skin temperature, pupil dilation, and other markers. You are being evaluated for potential positions in Magisterian civil service or military. This is not optional. It is a condition that the Magisterian authorities have made for Hippolyta’s continued independence.”
I wanted to stand up, to protest, to demand to know by what right they could evaluate us like this. But I remained frozen in my seat, my heart pounding so hard I was certain their sensors were recording every frantic beat.
“All Hippolytan girls,” Alpha continued, “are introduced in this way to certain realities about life, about Magisteria, and about the opportunities available to them. What you are about to witness is a demonstration of authentic Magisterianrelationships and power dynamics. I ask that you observe with open minds.”
He gestured toward the wings of the stage. “Please welcome my wife, Sala.”
