Page 12 of Shamefully Trained

I stood in my bedroom for a long time with the phone in my hand.

Then I opened my dresser, pulled out my nicest bra and panties, and put them on.

The bra was ivory and more delicate than anything I wore for ordinary life, bought on a sale months earlier because it had made me feel elegant in the fitting room and I had had a coffee date that had ended up going nowhere. The panties matched and rode lower on my hips than I usually preferred. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw exactly what the app wanted me to see: long red hair, pale skin, blue eyes too bright because my face was flushed, breasts cupped prettily, hips slimmer than curvier girls’ but not childish. A young woman expensive men might want to undress further.

My nipples tightened while I looked at myself, which made me furious.

I took a face-hidden shot first, angled from throat to thighs. Deleted it. Took another with my hair falling forward enough to obscure part of me while still revealing enough. The app liked that one well enough to put a green ring around it and suggest Add one more.

I should have stopped there.

Instead I sat on the edge of the bed and took a picture of my legs parted just enough to show the line of my panties and the way my pubic hair turned the soft triangle of lace slightly red between them. Not really explicit explicit. Suggestive. Tastelessly effective, probably. My hand shook when I uploaded it.

The app approved it in seconds.

Engagement likelihood increased 47%.

I nearly threw the phone at the wall.

Instead I opened the text section.

My old profile sat there looking prim and defensive.

Former legislative staffer seeking a discreet, mutually beneficial arrangement. Intelligent, polished, well-read, and adaptable. I value clarity, respect, and generosity.

It sounded like a hostage note because it was one. No wonder no one had bothered.

I deleted mutually beneficial first. The phrase suddenly seemed laughable. Then I rewrote the rest in short, careful bursts, pausing after each sentence and thinking about it as if I were making an affidavit I might later regret.

Intelligent, feminine, and discreet. New to arrangements but not to pleasing demanding men. I value generosity, clarity, and strong leadership. I can be shy at first, but I respond deeply to confidence, consistency, and a firm hand. Looking for a sponsor who appreciates honesty, polish, and a woman who wants to learn.

I stared at a firm hand for a full thirty seconds.

Then I left it there.

The app suggested additional tags. I selected discreet, responsive, exclusive preferred. I hovered over enjoys discipline, withdrew my thumb, then selected open to correction instead, which was somehow more humiliating because it was truer to my own evasions.

When I hit save, the app rewarded me with a little visual flourish of a bouquet, and another alert.

Your profile is now optimized for high-value sponsors.

The phrase made me blush all over again. High-value sponsors, as if I were a product being moved to a more expensive shelf.

I tossed my phone onto the comforter and sat very still.

My body felt over-aware of itself. Of the lace against my skin. Of the cool air in the room touching the tops of my breasts where the bra did not cover. Of the ache between my legs I had been trying not to name all evening. It was impossible, after the photographs and the words, not to feel as though I had enacted something already. Submission by increments. I had responded to instruction. I had displayed myself. I had softened my language into the shape men on that app liked. No one had ordered it. Which somehow made it more intimate and more damning.

I lay back on the bed and shut my eyes.

My phone buzzed again almost immediately, and I snatched it up with a desperate speed that embarrassed me even in private.

Another app notification:

Profile refresh complete. Increased visibility active for the next 12 hours.

Still no man. Just the system, noticing and rewarding and nudging me onward like a trainer with a clicker.

But I opened the browse tab anyway.