Chapter Five

 

 

Mel, Cam 031 and Bolt 184 sat hunched up against the sides of the cage that was apparently to be their sleeping quarters during the time they spent in Gryndstone. Evening light filtered in through narrow, high, barred windows. It shone on the tears streaming down their faces.

The cage was part of a double back-to-back row inside one of the wings of the school. They were essentially brick pens with metal barred front walls and ceilings, just high enough to sit upright in but too low to stand. Each had a single low gate set in the front wall just large enough for a girl to crawl through on her hands and knees. The floor area was about the size of a king-sized mattress, which was what it was covered with. There were three pillows and three blankets. Let into the outer bars low down on one side of the door was an opening sufficient for a squatting girl to push her hips through. It was covered on the outside of the bars by a projecting mesh canopy with an open bottom that enclosed the rim a waste bucket. Beside it was a toilet roll holder. Hooked into the bars on the other side was a paper tissue dispenser, with a small wire wastepaper basket hung underneath it and a water bottle with a peculiar spout that all of them had so far ignored. On one wall was a row of hooks for their shoes, socks and ties

Except for their sobs of misery the dormitory was silent and empty. The rest of the school was dining or at play. Perhaps it would have been better if they had company instead of being alone with their thoughts without the fear of a cane or cock to distract them. Once their tears started Mel found there was nothing she could do to stop them and she was too tired to try. They had to come sometime and the flow would only cease when she was completely drained. It must be the same for her new companions. Though she did not know what they had personally endured before she met them, they must have reached their emotional limits many hours ago. Bradawl had then pushed them over the brink and now had come the inevitable response. Gryndstone was already living up to its name…

 

Bradawl had allowed them to remain slumped limply in their chairs of pain and pleasure for a minute to recover from their enforced collective orgasm. Then he pressed a key on his laptop and warning jolts of electricity stung their nipples, jerking them back into unwilling attention.

‘Gryndstone teaches six subjects over a six-day week with Sunday as a rest day,’ he continued. ‘You will normally receive a lesson in each subject every day. There is Physical Education to improve your fitness and stamina. Deportment and Self-Knowledge trains you to present yourself properly and confidently. In Domestic Skills you will learn how to clean, fetch and carry while restrained. Sexual Techniques will teach you to satisfy your masters in any way required. Mechanical Interface will prepare you for merging your bodies with machines. Finally, Obedience classes are self-explanatory. ’

‘Your timetable and other notices are displayed on the board outside the main hall. You are responsible for checking them. Bells will signal the beginning and end of lessons. The day begins with morning exercise, followed by breakfast, ablutions and school assembly. Then comes your first two lessons. There is a short break followed by two more lessons before lunch. There is an afternoon break and the final two lessons of the day. Then there is evening meal, recreation and bed.

‘Apart from regular lessons you will undergo practical training days in town. Your progress will be continually assessed and you must achieve satisfactory grades in all subjects to graduate, however you cannot leave Gryndstone until you also are ready to confess the failings of your past life. You do this in assembly before your teachers and fellow pupils. Simply inform a teacher when you are ready to confess, but I warn you not make the choice lightly. You may think what you have already experienced has been hard but that moment of public confession will be far worse, because you will be baring not simply your body but your heart and soul. None of you can graduate until all three of you have confessed. Then you will take up residence in one of the town slave houses closest to whatever job or service you are judged best suited for and begin your new life as a fully functional and productive gynaton. ’

‘Now I’ll show you where you will eat and wash, then you can get some proper rest. Tomorrow will be far busier than today. ’

It was only then that Mel realised how hungry and thirsty she was. How long was it since she last had a proper meal? Suddenly she felt ravenously hungry.

Bradawl linked their collars back into a coffle and then he freed them from the chairs one at a time. The anal plugs pulled out of their bottoms with shameful sucking pops. He bent their arms behind their backs and clipped their cuffed wrists together. When they were all on their feet he led them back out into the corridor.

The game in the playground seemed to have finished and there was a subdued bustle of activity throughout the school. As they passed other classrooms they heard the voices of teachers, the occasional meek replies of pupils, the creak and whir of unknown machines, the sounds of cane striking flesh and shrieks and whimpers of pain.

Bradawl led them through a door labelled: DINING HALL. Mel’s cosy image of her old school dining hall was dashed from her mind as she saw what it contained.

Along the middle of the room were set out four identical long low racks. Each rack supported rows of inverted clear plastic flasks containing what looked like semi-liquidized food. The flasks were linked to an array of a dozen large black rubber phalluses, six on each side of the unit, angled upward as though in erection. Hanging under each phallus was a bold laminated label bearing a part name and number. There was a broad wooden step running down each side of the unit with a foam rubber kneeling mat set out in front of each phallus. The mats had slots in their middles through which protruded the upper half of a wheel. Cast into its rubber rim were numerous prongs, ribs and knobs, all shiny with grease.

‘Tonight you will eat alone but from tomorrow you’ll be using these facilities with the rest of the school,’ Bradawl explained. ‘You will always eat from the same dispenser so we can monitor your nutritional intake. ’He led them to the end of one row where they saw their own names and numbers hanging on three adjacent phalluses. ‘The flasks contain a nutritionally balanced diet comprising a main meal and dessert, but you have to work to get them. Kneel down…’

Mel thought Bolt was going to lose her temper again at this fresh humiliation, but with a barely stifled groan she knelt on her mat, squatting over the wheel so that its projections nuzzle into her cleft. Mel and Cam did the same on either side of her. The slippery rubber fingers teased Mel’s sore vulva. The phallus labelled SPRING 157 was now pointing right in her face. Though the rest of the moulding was lifelike, she saw it had an overlarge hole in its tip.

‘To obtain food you have to rock back and forth to pump it out of the flasks and then suck it out of the dispenser spout,’ Bradawl told them. ‘Begin…’

With wretched sighs they clenched the wheels between their sore sex lips and began to ride their hips back and forth. At the same time they took the ends of the phalluses into their mouths and began to suck. The flasks bubbled and glopped and warm gobbets of food began to flow out of the phallus tips. It was a simple wholesome meal of potato and vegetable and actually tasted quite good. Even Bolt seemed to have put aside her anger for the moment and was gulping it down hungrily.

As they fed Bradawl said:‘Feeding also reinforces an important lesson all Gryndstone girls must learn: in Shackleswell the image of the penis represents the social hierarchy and your place in it. We are unashamedly a male-dominated society and the penis is the symbol of manhood and mastery. You bow down before it, suck upon it to give pleasure to your master and in return you receive sustenance from it, whether in the form of his sperm or food dispensed from its likeness. As both your most sensitive orifices are being stimulated to accept ingress, performing this service will in turn give you pleasure. ’

He was quite openly admitting they were being conditioned to worship cock, Mel thought incredulously. A day ago such an idea would have disgusted her. Now, tired, hungry and helpless, she found the simple pleasure of consuming food combined with the gentle stimulation of her pussy perverse yet also weirdly satisfying. They’re just rubber tubes shaped like cocks, she told herself. Sucking on this doesn’t mean I’d do it to a man and like it. Of course she had done that once already that day, and come in the process.

The second flask contained apple and custard, which they gulped down with equal relish. The texture of the custard reminded Mel of Mattock’s sperm slipping about inside her mouth. All right, but this tastes much better, she told herself.

When they were finished Bradawl led them through to a washroom of gleaming white tiles. It was not like anything Mel had seen before and again the phallic theme was evident.

The most normal things in the room were a row of washbasins interspersed with hanging rails of towels and shelves of hairbrushes, combs, electric hairdryers, hair ties and ribbons in the school colours, toothbrushes, soaps, shampoos and even bottles of perfume. To one side of this was a wall of open showers and on the other a row of open squat toilets. These were raised on a long plinth with steps leading up to them. An arrangement of bars and rods was set before them while mounted on the wall behind each of the drain holes were two black rubber phalluses, one above the other. The lower one jutted up at a sharp angle while the upper one was horizontal.

At the very centre of the room was a large swivel chair, separated from the bank of toilets by a short double arc of waist-high tubular metal railing, with the inner arc set a little higher than the outer. Anybody sitting in the chair could survey the whole room by simply turning round. Mel imagined it full of naked, showering, soapy, peeing chained girls with a teacher watching them. It was a voyeur’s wet dream.

Sets of metal channels hung from sturdy-looking brackets on the ceiling. They ran in a continuous circuit round the room with side loops in front to the showers, towel rails and toilets. A few dozen long chains with ball runners engaged in the channels hung ready by the doorway.

‘At Gryndstone you will learn the importance of personal hygiene,’ Bradawl said. ‘You exist to serve and your bodies will be kept ready to do so at all times. Your hair and fingernails will be trimmed for you at regular intervals but you are responsible for your general cleanliness from day to day. ’He clipped their collars to the overhead chains. ‘Move round to the toilets,’ he commanded.

They walked round to the toilets with their ceiling chains rattling along after them. There were strips of rubber matting set in the tiling on either side of the drain holes. In front of them two short polished posts supported a horizontal bar from the middle of which rose a vertical rod that forked into two arms each with a hook on the end. In an arc about the drain hole the spouts of water jets angled upward. There was a groove in the tiles from beneath the pairs of wall-mounted phalluses leading into the drain hole. The lower phallus jutted up at forty-five degrees almost from the base of the wall. Its shaft was quite slender and Mel could see it had a series of fine holes in their heads and sides, while the upper phallus appeared to have only one hole in its tip.

‘You will be monitored every time you void your bladder or bowels to ensure you stay healthy,’ Bradawl said. ‘If you do not have a proper bowel movement at least once a day you will be purged. Like all gynaton toilets in Shackleswell you can use them even with your hands cuffed. Stand straddling the toilet facing outwards. Bend forward and hook your nipple rings over the actuator hooks. The arm will pivot down as you kneel on the pads and relieve yourselves.’

They all hesitated, confused and embarrassed.

‘Gryndstone girls have no privacy anymore than animals do,’ Bradawl said. ‘You will do this or else…’ he swished his cane through the air.

Blushing, the three of them climbed up the steps and stood as he had instructed. It took a moment for Mel to drop the nipple rings of her swaying breasts over the hooks on the forked arm. At least they had blunt tips but what was it all for anyway? Cam was managing with her smaller breasts more easily but Bolt was getting angry and impatient. Eventually they were all hooked up and gingerly knelt down on the pads. The forked arm pivoted with them against the resistance of some spring inside the mounting bar, tugging at their nipples and keeping their breasts raised. They knelt with their thighs wide straddling the toilet hole and exposing their groins once more to Bradawl’s gaze. Was this why the toilets were set so high, Mel wondered? So they could be monitored each time they peed? It was so perverted.

‘Void yourselves,’ Bradawl said.

Mel screwed up her eyes and tried not to think of where she was. Her pee began to flow in fitful dribbles at first, then she groaned and pushed and her bowels opened. She heard hisses and plops from the other girls that indicated they had also overcome their personal shame. It was so degrading but they had no choice.

When they were done Bradawl said: ‘Now pull back hard with you nipple rings…’

They did so, gritting their teeth as their tender nipples were stretched. The fork rods clicked and hard fine jets of water sprayed up at them from the spouts about the drain hole rim, washing their pussies and anuses clean. Mel gasped and giggled helplessly as the jets hissed and bubbled in her cleft and up into her front passage, finally washing away traces of Colter’s sperm.

‘Like any working parts a gynaton’s vagina and anus must be regularly cleaned,’ Bradawl continued as they squealed nervously. ‘Her rectum especially needs careful maintenance. It must be empty at all times, greased and ready to take a securing plug, operating lever or a master’s penis. To do this pull again…’

They did so. With a hiss the lower phalluses extended upwards, probing towards their bottoms.

‘Let the flushing tools enter your rear passages…’ Bradawl said.

Mel gritted her teeth as she felt the tip of the phallus pressing against her anus. At least after having just emptied her bowels her sphincter was relaxed and it slid easily up her. ‘Work yourselves back and forward,’ Bradawl said. Mel began to pump her hips, and warm water flowed through her out of the tip and side of the phallus. It filled her bowels, feeling disturbingly sensuous and making her shudder, then gushed back out of her bulging anus and down the drain hole. After half a minute of this Bradawl said: ‘Pull again…’ The phalluses retreated, sliding out of their thoroughly flushed rear passages.

‘Now raise your bottoms and pull again…’

This time the upper phalluses extended from the wall.

‘Take the upper dispensers into your rear passages,’ he commanded. Miserably they obeyed. ‘Work forward and back…’ Mel rammed her bottom against the rod and felt it compress, pumping a spurt of something thick and greasy into her rectum. ‘Now you are properly cleaned and lubricated,’ Bradawl declared. ‘Pull once more…’ The lubricating spouts withdrew. ‘Stand up, lean forward to unhook your nipple rings and step down. ’

Mel did so, feeling strangely slippery inside. They lined up in front of Bradawl. He pointed to the arc of low rails. ‘Bend over. I want to check you’ve cleaned yourselves properly…’

Now Mel understood the purpose of the railings. They were for displaying their most intimate parts to the master who sat in the chair for inspection. They were being treated like young children who could not be trusted to wipe their bottoms properly.

They bent over the rails facing outwards from the chair. The higher inner rail lifted their bottoms while their chests rested across the lower outer rails with their breasts dangling between them. There were hooks set in the underside of the outer rail. Bradawl passed a link of their ceiling chains near their collars over them, holding their heads down.

Bradawl flicked his cane across their bottoms. ‘Spread your legs properly! You should not need to be told. Unless ordered otherwise always show yourselves off to the maximum. Do you understand? ’

‘Yes, Headmaster,’ they said in chorus as they shuffled their legs wider until Mel’s feet touched Cam’s on one side and Bolt’s on the other.

‘Forget about shame. You have nothing to hide any more. Your bodies are no longer private, do you understand? ’

‘Yes, Headmaster. ’

Bradawl went along the line of upturned bottoms, prying their buttock cheeks apart and examining the state of their anal mouths, which clenched nervously at his touch. He poked a stiff finger into their shy portals, ignoring their barely stifled whines and whimpers of misery at this new humiliation and withdrew it to see it was properly filmed with lubricant grease and no trace of excreta remained.

Twisting her head round, Mel saw Bradawl’s cock was standing up stiffly. Playing with them was turning him on. It was perverted but then what could be more natural?

When Bradawl had finished his intimate inspection he nodded in approval. ‘Good. Though you have not yet showered at least you are now usable as flesh cogs should be. Up until now you have probably thought of your bottom-holes as simple waste tubes for you bodies. Now you’ll learn that they can serve more important functions. They can take rods and plugs inside them for the purposes of control or to operate machinery, but most of all they can give pleasure…’

As he spoke her took hold of Cam’s hips and, without any warning, rammed his stiff penis into her rear.

She shrieked at this sudden painful penetration, jerking her head up against her collar chain, but she was of course quite helpless. Bradawl pulled out a little and then thrust into her again, jarring her hips against the railing. Mel saw tears drip from her eyes. Between grunts of effort Bradawl continued his lecture, almost as though he did not have his cock pumping within the rear passage of one of his students.

‘Your bodies will soon adapt… with use and education… you will learn to take far larger objects inside you… yet we will ensure you do not lose this pleasant tightness…’

Abruptly Bradawl pulled his now glistening shaft out of Cam’s frantically clenching bottom, leaving her stretched hole gaping wide, and stepped sideways to stand behind Mel. She felt his strong fingers pulling her buttock cheeks wide and then the pressure of his cockhead, still hot and slippery from being inside Cam’s bottom, against her rear entrance. With a hard expert thrust he penetrated her, forcing her anal ring apart. She gasped as he filled and stretched her, careless of any pain.

She had a man’s penis up her bum, pumping away inside her. Her eyes pricked with hot tears of pain and despair. The last of her virginities had been taken from her.

‘You must be ready at all times to serve…’ Bradawl grunted. ‘That’s why we send you to bed freshly greased… like any good tool that needs to be kept in working order… don’t forget that’s what you are now… tools of flesh…’

He pulled out of her, his shaft now straining with tension, leaving her suddenly aching and hollow, and stepped up behind Bolt.

Taking hold of her brown bottom and looking down on it approvingly, Bradawl said:‘I’ve been particularly looking forward to this moment. There’s something very satisfying when a rebellious girl gets her comeuppance. ’He gave her cheeks an open-palm slap that made Bolt wince. ‘I have a partiality for girls’ rears. I especially like a fine, well-rounded and fleshy bottom that shivers nicely when beaten, together with a deep dark bumhole. Is it as hot and tight in there as I imagined? ’

Bolt yelped as he rammed his cock into her, driving her against the rails and making her heavy dangling breasts sway.

‘Oh yes it is… highly satisfactory… you will give a great deal of pleasure to many men with this orifice. ’Bolt’s white teeth were clenched even as she sobbed with pain with every thrust into her entrails that Bradawl made. ‘No matter how long you resist you will break in the end and you will remember this moment when you were mastered as nature intended. ’With that he grunted and came inside Bolt as she sobbed and gasped in misery.

Bradawl rested for a minute against Bolt’s trembling body, then withdrew from her abused rear. Her gaping, glistening, pitch-black anal ring slowly began to shrink and collapse inward and a trickle of white sperm appeared on its lip. Bradawl unhooked Mel and Cam from the rails and pushed them down onto their knees between Bolt’s still spread legs, pressing their faces into her bottom. Mel was acutely aware of the heat and scent of her body.

He flicked his cane across their haunches. ‘Lick it up, all of it. ’

Too shocked to think of resisting, they obeyed, applying their trembling tongues to the sperm trickles now oozing out of Bolt’s anus. It was the second time Mel had tasted men’s sperm in a few hours. It was subtly different from Mattock’s, or was that because she was lapping it up out of another girl’s bottom? For a moment she felt sick but she forced herself to continue.

‘This is another important lesson,’ Bradawl told them. ‘A master’s sperm is never allowed to go to waste. One way or another it always ends up inside you. No, don’t hesitate to put your tongues inside her. That’s why she was cleaned out. There’s nothing you can’t do to each other now, however distasteful it may seem. ’

Mel and Cam snivelled and slid their tongues about the rim of Bolt’s anus. Mel’s nose and cheek was pressed to Cam’s and their breath mingled as they both tended to the most intimate part. A trickle of spent sperm ran down into the mouth of Bolt’s cleft and Mel chased after it with her tongue. She found a heady-scented slippery fluid and realised it was Bolt’s own lubrication. Had she been roused by her sodomy? She probably could not help it any more than Mel could. That didn’t make it right but it was natural, wasn’t it?

As they licked Bolt’s rear clean, Bradawl went round to stand in front of Bolt. Lifting her head, he pushed his now semi-flaccid penis between her lips. ‘While they see to you, you’ll clean me. ’He held his cane up. ‘And make sure you do a good job, understand? ’

Bolt sniffed and said in a miserable whisper: ‘Yes, Headmaster. ’

Miserably Bolt began to lick the cock that had just sodomized her. Could she taste herself on him, Mel thought? How sick would that be?

With his penis in Bolt’s mouth, Bradawl said: ‘You’re chain-sisters now: a work unit or trigyn as Rowland called them. You will learn to cooperate and support each other in giving service, however intimate. ’

After a minute he pulled his cleaned and revived member from between Bolt’s lips and went round to inspect Mel and Cam’s work on her rear. ‘That’s satisfactory. But you’ve all been soiled so get back on the podium and clean yourselves up again. ’

He unhooked them and they climbed back onto the toilets and washed, flushed and greased themselves once more. When they were done he unclipped their cuffs and pointed to the showers and basins. ‘Now wash yourself and clean your teeth. We want you mouths to be fresh as well. ’

They slipped off their shoes, socks and ties and stepped into the shower pans.

Under the hot jets of water they soaped their bodies down, trying to wash away both literally and figuratively some of the traces of what had been down to them that day. It was a few minutes of luxurious freedom. Bolt, however, washed mechanically while hanging her head. Despite knowing she had largely brought it on herself, Mel felt a pang of sympathy for her. Bradawl had singled her out for special humiliation. She wanted to give her some words of comfort but she could not think what, and in any case was inhibited by Bradawl’s presence.

For the first time Mel was able to handle the rings that she now wore pierced through her labia and nipples. The contrast between their hardness and her pliant flesh was striking, especially the mound of her depilated pubes, which was silky-soft. The piercings were still tender but she supposed it was amazing they did not hurt more, though she was acutely aware of their presence. She fingered her hard nipples, resisting the instinctive urge to try to pull the rings out. It would be stupid to damage herself further. For the moment she would simply have to accept they were there. Some people had similar things fitted as jewellery, of course, though they did it voluntarily. She tried to clean round them as delicately as she could.

The rounded inner faces of her collar and cuffs and the small degree to which she could slide them up or down meant she could soap and wash the skin under them.

She supposed this would also allow her to dry properly as well. At least she could keep clean. But that also meant there might be no reason to remove them for months, or even years.

She saw Cam rubbing at the part number stamped on her bare pubes, but the writing did not fade. Under cover of soaping herself, Mel rubbed her own pubes, forehead and upper slopes of her buttocks, but there was no trace of running ink. They were there until they faded naturally, except they would not be allowed to. They were as permanent as their masters cared to make them.

When they had showered they moved to the towels and basins. As she brushed her teeth she looked at herself in the mirror above the basin. It was not the Melanie Paget she knew but a naked girl with haunted eyes, a number on her forehead, a collar about her neck and slave rings in her nipples. She found towels and toothbrushes were already labelled with their part numbers. For a moment she wondered at the speed things had been arranged, then she understood. Whatever girl had turned up next would have been given that part name number by the judge and had it stamped on her. It was just a convenient label to identify her body and no more personal than her collar itself. Any girl might have taken her place as the latest part in the Shackleswell machine and be standing here looking at herself. She was simply a girl cog with a body to be maintained in good working order and a bottom to be used whenever a master wished.

 

Bradawl led them through to the other wing of the school.

‘This is your recreation area,’ he said. ‘You are permitted to use it on rest days, after lessons and before bedtime.

The recreation room was surprising, unexpectedly colourful and well equipped. It was the same height as the other rooms in the school but within it had been divided into three horizontal levels accessed by short flights of metal frame stairs and entered via low doors framed by wired glass panels. The upper two floors were formed of a square lattice of wooden joists infilled with more heavy sheets of wired glass, so you could look right up through them from ground to ceiling. All levels were furnished with colourful pillows and beanbags. The lower level was lined with shelves of books and magazines, the middle one had a large flatscreen television and a rack of DVD’s and the upper was fitted out with several games consoles. Bizarrely in a corner was a rack stacked with colourful double-ended dildos, plastic chains, sets of oversized toy handcuffs, soft rubber spanking paddles and gags. Would pupils really want to play with such things? Presumably they did.

It took Mel a few moments to realise that although there was enough headroom in each level to sit upright there was not enough to stand erect. To use it a girl would have to crawl in submissively on her hands and knees and essentially stay that way. Even when they were relaxing they would be reminded what they were.

Beyond the recreation room was the dormitory.

As Bradawl locked them into their bed cage, he said:‘You will have an early night tonight, as you will find you will need the extra rest. Tomorrow you will have an opportunity to socialize with the other girls. The three of you will sleep together as you do everything else while you’re training. You will keep your cage neat and tidy at all times. The waste bucket is for peeing only. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at school assembly…’

He hung their coffle chains on a hook by their cage and left, locking the dormitory door behind him.

They looked round their cage. The one thing that intruded into it was the spout of the water bottle hanging on the outer bars. It was yet another phallic black rubber spout dispenser. Even while they slept it would be there as a reminder of who their masters were. Bolt turned away from it and hunched miserably up in a corner. Mel and Cam did the same.

Alone with their thoughts and with no distractions, all the numerous wrenching shocks, humiliations, pain and violations of the day that had been held at bay until now caught up with them. First Cam, then Mel and finally Bolt began to sob and cry softly to themselves, rocking back and forth as all the heartache, fear and shame poured forth along with their tears.

 

An unknown time later Mel finally took a deep breath, groped for a tissue from the dispenser, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. They must get a lot of crying girls, she supposed. It seemed they had thought of everything. She was still desperately frightened and sick with worry, yet the tears had done their job and dulled her pain. She even felt a curious flash of pride that she was not feeling even worse after everything that she had endured, though she was not sure why. Maybe she was tougher than she thought.

After a little while Cam also took a tissue and tried to clean herself up, followed by Bolt. They looked at each other uncertainly through red-rimmed eyes. For the first time in hours they were free to speak but none seemed willing. They might as well still have been gagged, Mel thought. Was it out of shame for the humiliating intimacy they had been forced to share? Except none of what had been done to them was their fault. They must remember that. Somebody also had to break the ice.

‘Look, let’s forget these stupid labels we’ve got stamped on us,’ Mel said, forcing a rueful smile. ‘I’m Mel. What are your real names and where do you come from? ’

‘What do you want to know, for? ’ Bolt asked suspiciously.

‘I’m just trying to be friendly,’ Mel said, taken aback. ‘We’ve got to make the best of things. If we start with our names and where we come from…’

‘Just fuc — aww… shut up about me! ’ Bolt said, wincing and clutching at her collar as it punished her for attempting to swear. ‘I’ll worry about me, right! It’s none of your fuc — ughh… business! You don’t need to know my name ‘cos I’m getting out of here tomorrow! These pervy shi— ahhhs… aren’t going to turn me into any fuc — ee… ing machine, right? ’

‘Yes, sorry,’ Mel said, ‘it’s just that we’re all stuck in here and we’ve got to get along…’

‘So you can stick your tongues up my cun… ahhhh… again? ’

Mel flinched in the face of the black girl’s burning anger and reckless disregard for her own comfort. Didn’t she ever ease off? ‘The Headmaster made us do that. We didn’t have any choice. None of us do. ’

‘Yes you do, you can shut the fu… fu… up about it! Just leave me alone! ’Bolt threw her sodden tissue down, turned away and wrapped her arms about her head.

Recalling Bradawl’s warning, Mel picked up the tissue and put it in the wastebasket. There was no need to invite further punishment.

For the first time Cam spoke up. ‘She’s right,’ she said in small weary voice. ‘Maybe it’s easier not to talk about personal things. If my family ever found out what I did today they’d…’ she trailed off, took in a deep shuddering breath and wiped her eyes again. ‘So, maybe you should just call me Cam…’ she looked down at her shaven pubes, twisting her head to read the number upside-down ‘… Cam 031. ’She frowned. ‘I know what a spring is and what a bolt is but not what a “cam” is. ’

‘Sorry, me neither,’ Mel admitted.

‘Well whatever it is, it’s not me, so this must be happening to somebody else. ’She bit her lip. ‘Or maybe it’s all some sick nightmare. Maybe it’ll go away. ’

‘I wish it was too but I think it’s real,’ Mel said. ‘I could never imagine anything like this. ’

‘Neither could I. ’

‘Will you two fu… effing shut up! ’ Bolt said.

They did. Neither of them had the energy or desire to fight with Bolt, so instead they pulled their blankets, also marked with their part numbers, about them and lay down.

Perhaps there was some advantage in having part names, Mel thought. Apart from making introductions simple those words and numbers stamped upon their flesh gave them something to hide behind. They were unreal identities to which all the terrible things were happening while allowing their real selves to hide away inside. Beneath their immediate physical shame lurked the deeper shame of what had brought them here. Bolt obviously had problems in her past and Cam seemed quietly despairing. Perhaps they were all frightened of exposing their secrets. Yes, it would be a hundred times easier for Mel to bare her body to strangers than her soul and all the guilt that weighed it down.

Mel must have dozed because an unknown time later she heard the patter of shoes and clink of chains and the rest of the school were marched into the dormitory, presumably coming through from the recreation room. They saw a few girls pass the front of their cage, accompanied by the robed forms of masters with their cocks and balls on intimidating display. With clanks and jingles the girls were locked away and the masters departed.

A soft buzz of conversation broke out from the cells. Girls were calling out to others in different cells by their part names: sprocket, bobbin, flange, spindle, pin and many others. Mel was not sure what they all meant and some sounded old-fashioned. Were they names Rowland had first thought up to give to his slave girl workers?

The ceiling lights, which must have been set on a timer, dimmed and faded. Gradually the chatter died away as the girls settled down, but the dormitory did not fall totally silent. From the darkness came the unmistakable sighs, grunts and soft gasps of lovemaking.

‘I suppose it would be warmer if we shared our blankets and sort of cuddled up together,’ Cam said suggested in a small voice.

‘I’m no lesbian! ’ Bolt growled. ‘You two keep away from me. ’

They rolled up tighter alone in their blankets. It would have been warmer to huddle together, Mel thought, but that was clearly not an option if they wanted any chance of rest. She fingered her cuffs, collar and rings, trying to get used to their strangeness. Her nipples were still hard and her pussy was, well, moist. How could she sleep with all these things in and around her? How could she sleep after what had been done to her and not knowing what new perversions tomorrow might bring? How could she sleep after the terrible thing she herself had done?

Finally, however, exhaustion overcame her fears and sleep she did.