by Alan Horn
I examined the machine. In its center was a section that looked like the front of a girl. There were depressions for breasts with holes in the middle for the nipples to poke through. The lower face was exposed and also the groin.
He came back with a wooden box. He said, "These are your size fittings. I'll put them in the machine. He inserted four small and one large steel plate into slots in the machine. He showed me one that was midway in size between the others.
It was wide, gleaming silver, a single flat piece of steel.. It had a thick staple welded to the center with a large, thick steel ring. There were words engraved around the staple. 'MAUREEN -Property of Royal Correctional Service-£1,000 Reward -Return to any Police Station.' I read them with helpless resignation. None of my associates would be able to remove it. Cold steel defeated education and words. No man who could remove it would want to remove it. Once on me, it would be forever.
The smith said, "this will be your collar. It, like the others, is permanent." I looked at it with mixed emotions. Collar. There was so much meaning in that word. Owned, controlled. Loss of choice. Property. I felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Fear. Joy that there would never be any doubt of my nature. Acceptance that escape was even less likely. Resignation that I had no choice. Relief I had no more choices to make. Anyone who saw the collar would turn me in and there was no way I could remove the collar without a smith's help.
I stared at my collar. I knew that, by itself, it would change my life forever. It looked heavy and obdurate. I would wear it for the rest of my life. It would define me as slave far more than its mates on my wrists and ankles. To everyone who saw it, it was me. No matter what I did or said, what else I wore, how I looked, this obdurate mass of metal was alive with meaning. Once it grasped my neck it would shout with glee 'I hold this slave for you to see. I will hold her forever. Command her.' I hated it. I hated the loss of freedom, the loss of choices. I would be owned, OWNED. I would be seen as an untrustworthy slave or pet who would wander if not chained. It was shaming. My friends and associates could never again view me with respect or confidence.
Yet, I wanted to wear it. I longed for its cold embrace tight on my throat. It was the hand of every man who had ever owned the body and soul of a woman. It was reaching out across time to hold me where I belonged. It was my dream come true. I knew I was a true slave and I wanted a master to own me. The collar befitted me. I was a natural slave and should be collared.
He inserted the collar into the machine. He opened a door, just my size. He pulled a chain out of the machine and locked it around my neck. He removed my collar and cuffs. He threw a lever and the chain around my neck pulled me into the heart of the machine. He strapped my arms and legs into depressions More straps encircled my head and chest. I couldn't see anything and I was strapped in place. No motion was possible. My breasts were in smooth depressions and I could feel cool air on my nipples. My knees were spread wide and my feet about shoulder width apart. I could feel the same cool air flowing over my labia.
He started the machine. I could feel the metal bands closing around my wrists, ankles, waist and neck. When they felt snug there was a series of loud sounds. Then silence.
I felt hands moving on my nipples and labia. The men stroked my nipples and clit until they grew rigid. They were skilled. Against my will, the traitorous nipples swelled. Standing rigid at attention before my heaving breasts, ready to be forever changed.
They applied a cool liquid to my rock hard nipples and I felt the huge needle pierce them. They stung more than hurt. I felt the rings inserted. If asked, I would not have given consent to be pierced and ringed. My opinions were not ever going to be sought again.. I had lost any right to my body. It was owned by another. I didn't even know who yet. I could only gasp and moan as my flesh was pierced. I heard the clicking as their internal locks engaged. My ears were done next. They didn't hurt much. The rings were just as heavy as those in my nipples.
I didn't want to be pierced, but my masters didn't care. I was only a slave and if they thought I needed rings, I would get rings.
Outrage and pain colored the single scream I emitted as they pierced my clit hood. I only sobbed as they locked the ring within my secret place and my labia lips received similar rings.
At first, I raged at the violation of my body. Then I realized I was helpless to do anything about it. I wondered if they would make me more attractive to my new Masters. I hoped the Doctor knew what he was doing. One of the men applied a lotion to each of my new rings and rotated them within my flesh. He did not say anything. Neither did I. They were handling me and I wanted their care. I was so helpless!
The nose hurt much more than the others. After the piercing something cold and large slipped into both nostrils. I felt my septum being squeezed. There was a snap and the large things withdrew, but the pressure remained. I knew what had been done. A grommet was placed in my septum. That was done to let my nose withstand more pressure. The ring going there was not just for ornamentation. Damn. My nose was going to be used for a leash or fastening me, or both. Damn. More fumbling and I felt the rings inserted in my flesh, one at a time. Immediately after the ring insertion, I could feel and hear the clicks as the locks engaged.
One at a time my hands were unstrapped then locked to the belt, behind my back. Then I was unstrapped and backed out of the machine. I was fixed but good. My ankles were chained together. I had steel bands around my neck, waist, and wrists. All the bands had one or more sturdy attachment rings. My collar had a short chain hanging from the back ring. The waist band, call it a steel belt was tight, not snug and had eight rings. And I was ringed. Eight large, heavy, gold rings dangling from my flesh. The ring in my nose was way too big and it bore a thin chain that ended a foot above the floor. It was a leash. A permanent leash. Double damn. Whoever held it had total control over me. I was helpless.
I was surprised how little time it had taken to put all this hardware on me. It must have been less than ten minutes. One of the men took my leash and led me around the room. Walking was a challenge. He stopped me in front of a full length mirror. I looked at my image. I studied myself from my shackles up to my nose ring and leash. I looked like a slavegirl. In a perverse way, I was beautiful. I was the epitome of helpless femininity. I was naked and ripe for plucking. I could only hope my master would like me and be good to me. It was certain I had no choice but to be obedient . If smart, I would try to be pleasing. I hoped whoever was to be my master, he liked intelligent women.
Now I felt like a slave. The brand was just an ornament. These shackles reduced my freedom. No longer could I run or kick or take the stride my body wanted. Now my steps were limited by men. Even the longest dress could not hide the clatter of my chain as I walked with my short rapid steps. I had to learn how to walk with grace all over again. Right now I was clumsy and my confidence was shattered new with each snubbed step. There was not enough chain for a decent step, but plenty to snag a toe. These shackles were permanent. There was no key. Only a smith could free me. No man would ever want me free to run or kick. No woman would ever be able to free me. I would wear these shaming, limiting, clanking symbols of my slavery forever. I realized it was like my dreams. I guess it was reasonable. Slaves must be hobbled or they might run away. Yet they prevented nothing important. I could walk, spread my legs for men, kneel to my masters. They only made some things harder.
On the whole, I cared not for my lost freedom of motion. My shackles were forged with care and enhanced my look. Women have always traded practicality for beauty. I thought about women's ridiculous shoes, their corsets, the bustles of yesteryear. If I must be a slave, at least these made me beautiful. Looking down at my shackled feet, I realized they fit me. I could not pretend I was an equal of men with these on. I realized I liked being submissive. It felt good. I was happy to be a slave. My loins were aflame with submissive heat and I could feel my juices running down my leg.
I stood there for minutes just feeling my irons and rings. I was ensla
ved but also I was feeling new sensations. The snug grasp of the steel on my limbs and throat. I was still, just breathing. Even then I could feel the heavy rings moving in my flesh. I was getting aroused. I didn't know whether it was the barbarous piercings movement that was stimulating me. It could also have been the sight of my helpless body and my ready availability to any man who wanted me. Maybe too, it was my submissive feelings stimulating me. Maybe it was the experience of the work that enslaved me. I didn't care. I just wanted a man to take me and fuck me silly. Feeling my arousal building, I looked anew at my collar. It was beautiful and was perfect on me. It was exactly right for me, a slave.
One of the men unlocked my wrists from the belt and relocked them high on my back to the dangling chain. It was a strain on my shoulders and arms. I hoped someone would fasten them lower soon.
Chapter 3 - Training Introduction
The doctor removed my gag, took my leash, and led me out of the workshop and down a corridor. I had never walked with chained ankles before. I kept trying to take too long a step and had it jerked to a stop several inches shy of my natural stride. The Doctor shortened his stride to match mine. He said, “walking will become easier with practice.”
He continued, “your arms are stretching. Every time we lock your wrists as they are now, we will pull them as high as we can. This will be uncomfortable at first. Your tendons will stretch so you become comfortable.”
“Tomorrow your training begins. Remember to kneel unless ordered otherwise.”
"Yes, master."
He led me into a different cell. I was alone. He locked my leash to a ring in the wall and looked at me. I stood there, uncertain about what to do and saw the Doctor was frowning and holding his whip. I immediately dropped to my knees and spread my knees wide. I felt secure and comfortable. I was also dripping submissive juices from my cunt and my churning belly. I wanted to beg him to take me, but I feared he would punish me.
He said, "Good. Stay like that. Your friends will join you shortly." He left and locked the barred cell door behind him.
I stayed like that. Obedient, meek, slave. I had lost all dignity and resistance. I was humbled, broken. I was a slave and I accepted it. I knew my hopes and dreams of equality had ended. For me and likely for all women.
With a clang the cell door opened and Mary was led in. She wore the chains and rings of a slave. She was led by a leash on her nose ring. She was helpless. For once she was silent even though not gagged. She was sobbing. The guard locked her leash to a wall ring. She knelt as ordered and looked at me. Neither of us said a word until the guard left and locked the door. We waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard.
"Hello, Mary."
She sobbed, "Look what they've done to me. To us. They are making us into slaves, just as the judge ordered. I never thought it would happen. I don't care what they do to me. I won't be a slave!"
"Mary, be careful what you say. Remember how we were caned? Instant and casual. This was not new for them. I've read stories. Much worse punishments for slavegirls have been used for ages. I don't think we can ever escape. These chains are permanent. No key can open them. And the rings they put in our flesh. They mark us as slaves and make it child's play to control us. If a five year old gets a finger on any of my rings I will obey. We can't kick or run or use our hands. We're either chained to a wall or a post or someone's holding this damned leash. Face it Mary, we're slaves. We've been made obedient and submissive. Its not our fault."
I didn't want to admit to her that I now thought of myself as a slave. To save face in front of my aggressive feminist friend, I would pretend to hate our treatment. But, I no longer minded. It wouldn't matter if I minded anyway. Our masters would decide what we would do from now on, but that was all right by me. My choices hadn't worked out all that well for me anyway.
Mary raised up on her knees and started to get up.
"Mary! Don't get up. Stay kneeling. The guard told you not to move. If you get up you'll be punished. They're watching us close."
She stopped and looked at me. "I'm not a slave yet. If I can move, and I can, then I will. If I wait for an order, then I'm admitting I'm a slave. You should get up too."
"I'm not moving. I was told to stay here and I will. Mary, we have to act like slaves or we'll just get punished until they think we are slaves. Besides what will you do when you stand? Your leash is still locked to that ring. Your hands are useless. You're naked, branded, shackled, and collared."
I guess I convinced her. She knelt down.
"Maureen, we have to escape and tell the world what the government is doing to us."
"I'm in. What's your plan?"
We were both silent for a long time, then Mary said, "we have to wait for an opportunity then seize it."
"Right." We both new that our captors had us. The box we were in had no openings, If our chains and rings were removed, maybe. But that wasn't going to happen soon. All we could do was wait, watch, and obey.
The door opened again and A guard was holding Elizabeth's leash. She was fixed just like Mary and I. Her leash was locked to Mary's collar. Mary's leash was locked to my collar. The guard removed my leash from the wall ring and said. "follow me slaves. Keep in step." He walked away and I hurried to keep up. There was another trainer waiting for us in the hall. He was holding a whip and he followed us.
He led us down a flight of stairs then into a long, wide hallway. Halfway down the hall I could see several girls standing or kneeling next to the wall. We passed a sort of exercise bar fastened to the floor and maybe three or four feet high and three feet from a wall. It looked sturdy. As we approached, I could see that the girls wore slave chains and rings like mine. They stayed close to the wall. Padlocks fastened their nose leashes to a short chain hanging from a wall ring. The chains were just long enough for the girls to lie on the floor and kept them from touching each other. The trainers stopped us before we reached the nearest girl. They locked our leashes to wall rings and walked away without a word.
I stood there in amazement, “What now,” I thought. “Is something going to happen here? I looked around and took a tentative step away from the wall. I could only cover half the width of the hall before my chain grew taut. I saw there was another ring bolted to the wall under the one where my chain fastened, near the floor. Each girl had a waste bucket with a lid. Between each station, hanging on the wall, out of their reach, were several objects. a couple of whips of different lengths, and a box. I couldn't see inside it. I didn't like the look of the whips, but there was nothing I could do about them. I shrugged and knelt.
Time dragged on. Most of the girls knelt on the floor. I would have liked to sit, but the masters forbade that. Slave girls must learn patience, for the masters looked after their own needs, not ours.
A few times, a man would walk down the hall, on some errand or business of their own. All the girls would jump to a kneeling display position to avoid a whipping for disrespect. Usually they would walk down the line of chained women looking them over. Sometimes the passerby would stop and command a girl to a different position. If they did this they would touch or rub the girl. The third person to look at us, a man, stopped in front of me and said, “Your knees are too close together. Stand up.” He took one of the whips from the wall and said, “Spread your legs and bend over."
I knew I was going to be punished and was terrified, but knew if I didn't obey, it would be worse. I bent over and felt the terrible pain as he whipped my upraised buttocks, hard. I squealed. My body jumped but I forced my feet to stay frozen. I received two more stinging lashes, then after a long pause, he said, "Kneel." I dropped to my knees, careful to get them as far apart as possible. I pushed my breasts at him and kept my head erect. He replaced the whip and walked on without another word.
I watched three other girls disciplined that day. I remained on my knees to pamper my burning ass. I counted more than thirty people passing me that day. There was no privacy for any of us slaves. We resided in a well
used corridor, naked and chained. We each had a waste bucket but everyone could see and hear its use.
Hours later a group of men appeared. They brought a cart down the hall with them. We all got into kneeling display position with our backs up against the wall. They stopped the cart in front of the first girl, Elizabeth. One of them ordered her to stand and come close to them. Elizabeth complied. They unlocked her chain from the wall and re-locked it to a ring on the back of the cart. There was a large metal tank on the cart. Arranged around the sides were cleaning equipment. Brooms, mops, rags, a couple of spray bottles. I could see the word “Disinfectant” printed on a bottle.
The men spaced themselves along the string of girls. They each had a cloth bag in their hands. One man, in the middle of the hall spoke, “I am Master John. You are all slaves about to begin your training. I am the chief trainer. These men are your trainers. We will train you to be the most beautiful, happy, obedient and pleasing slaves in the world. Our methods are harsh and exacting because it works. When your training is complete you will be beautiful, arousing, and pleasing girls. You will love what you have become. You will be slave girls.
We call this training, but we are not changing your soul. We will give you new skills. We are going to give you back something that society has taken away. We are going to help you unlock your true selves. You will experience the sensuous pleasures already in your bodies and minds. These trainers will use the whip and sex to reconnect you with your deepest emotions. When we finish, you will feel complete and natural. You will be able to express your many, many suppressed longings. Your chains make it easier for us to train you and make it possible for you to leave this place for better ones. Work hard and you will hasten your discovery of your true self.