Irontown 1: Student Maids

by Adriana Arden

  ‘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 any more 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 fleshcogs 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 especi
ally like a fine, well-rounded and fleshy bottom that shivers nicely when beaten, together with a deep dark bum hole. 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 girlcog 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 flat screen 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.