I couldn’t answer, could only sob as I held myself open for his inspection.
“Young ladies who do not want to have their anuses on display,” he continued, “tempting their headmasters with such intimate exposure, must learn to behave themselves properly. This shame you feel—this is part of your education.”
I heard him open something—a jar, perhaps. Then I felt his finger, slick with oil, pressing against my anus. The invasion made me whimper, but I didn’t release my grip on my cheeks.
“Naughty girls must learn their lesson,” Beta murmured as he worked the oil into me, stretching me, preparing me. “And sometimes the only way to teach certain naughty girls is by imposing a headmaster’s manhood in their most shameful place.”
“Please,” I sobbed, though I didn’t know if I was begging him to stop or continue.
“Making them give pleasure that way,” he continued, positioning himself behind me. I felt the head of his enormous cock pressing against my oiled entrance. “To a vigorously thrusting masculine member.”
He pushed forward, and I cried out as he filled me. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, made worse by the welts covering my bottom. But Beta didn’t relent. He began to thrust, taking me with the deliberate rhythm of a man administering correction.
“This is what wayward schoolgirls receive,” he said, his voice rough with exertion and arousal. “When they fail to control their base urges. When they let their needy cunnies lead them astray.”
The crude language combined with the old-fashioned scenario made my head spin. I was desperate for release, my pussy clenching emptily as he used my bottom. I tried to rub myself against the desk, seeking friction, needing something to ease the terrible pressure building inside me.
“Stop that,” Beta commanded sharply, his hand coming down hard on my already punished bottom. “You do not have permission to masturbate.”
I wailed at the additional pain, but I stilled my hips obediently.
“You will be punished for that attempt,” he continued, his thrusts never faltering. “Severely punished. But first, you will feel your headmaster spend himself in your naughty bottom hole.”
His pace increased, becoming more urgent. I hung there helplessly, taking everything he gave, my body burning with need I wasn’t allowed to satisfy. When he finally came with a deep groan, filling me with his seed, I sobbed with frustration and relief in equal measure.
Beta pulled out slowly, leaving me feeling terribly empty and exposed. “Stay exactly as you are,” he ordered.
I heard water running in what must have been an attached washroom. He left me bent over his desk, my hands still gripping the edge, his seed leaking from my bottom. The position was mortifying, especially knowing he would return to find me like this. But I didn’t dare move.
When Beta came back, he helped me stand. My legs could barely support me. Then I noticed something in his hand of a kind I hadn’t seen before on Magisteria—a pair of red panties made mostly of a silky material. The inside of the seat seemed to have an extra layer of soft fabric.
“Put these on,” he instructed.
I stepped into them with shaking legs, and he pulled them up over my hips. The fabric pressed against my punished flesh, and I could feel his seed still warm inside me.
“Everyone on Magisteria knows,” Beta said, adjusting the panties carefully, “that red panties mean a concubine has her master’s seed in her anus.”
My face blazed with renewed shame. “Everyone?”
“Everyone,” he confirmed. “It’s a mark of thorough correction. Of a master who takes his responsibilities seriously. It’s one of the few occasions where others are expected to notice the evidence of a young woman’s submission to her master.”
“I… I have to go out? Like this?”
“Yes. We’re going to my ship.”
The walk through the palace complex was a special kind of torture. Beta strode confidently while I followed behind, naked except for those damning red panties. People we passed—guards, servants, other concubines—all noticed. Some looked away politely. Others stared openly. A few men nodded at Beta with what looked like approval.
By the time we reached the transit station, my face felt permanently flushed. We boarded the train, and I stood close to Beta, trying to make myself small. But there was no hiding the red panties, no disguising what they meant.
A naked concubine across from us noticed and gave me a sympathetic smile. An older man in uniform actually winked at Beta. I wanted to die.
“Where are we going?” I finally whispered.
“To teach you about the Collective,” Beta replied. “As I promised. Your education is just beginning, Jendra.”
The train carried us to the spaceport, where Beta’s ship waited. It was sleeker than I’d expected, more elegant. Once aboard, I felt some of my mortification ease—at least here, no one could see me.
Beta guided me to a seat and secured the harness himself. “We’ll be jumping soon,” he said. “To a region humans haven’t explored. Where some number of the Collective like to gather, to experience this dimension.”
