Author's Note: ((This note is for the publisher and should not be published with the story: Thank you for publishing the first chapters of this story. I have made some edits, as well as writing to the ending, so I am submitting the entire story here. Also, the text breaks which were marked with five dashes were left out when it was published, which makes the changes between scenes confusing. They are now signified by the words TEXT BREAK, which you can find-and-replace into whatever formatting is appropriate for the site. Thanks again!))

This story and the characters and places therein are 100% fictional. Please don't take this as an endorsement in any way of the actions of any character. This material is intended only for getting off and should be kept completely divorced from reality.

I finished this story in a rush, because I won't have a chance to right for some months. I may come back later to flesh some parts out, but realistically, it's unlikely. Do note that Gagged Utopia does not have a "transgender" tag, so consider this it and stop complaining about the tags. Feel free to email with any other feedback, or leave a comment.


Chapter One

The songs of frogs and insects echoed through the trees as the intruder took careful steps over roots, aiming a hooded flashlight downward. She glanced at her satellite compass - still going the right direction, less than a mile out now from the fence. A stick cracked nearby and she shut the light off and froze. After several seconds during which no shape resolved out of the darkness, she continued on her way.

Twenty more minutes of picking her way through the undergrowth and she spied the fence. Fifteen feet high, chain link, with nasty razor wire coiled on top and ten feet of clear ground outside. On the inside, Pepper could see a ten foot high masonry wall several yards behind the fence. A prefab building was incorporated into the wall, no light coming from within. Security was tight, as expected.

She sat behind a tree and pulled off her heavy canvass backpack. First she took out a smaller, black backpack and put it on. She also removed her camera, hanging it around her neck, and a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she leaned back against the tree, feeling the roughness of it even through her heavy vest.

Investigative reporting was a lost art in these days of corporate monopoly. Still, though, Pepper knew that if she could get proof positive of something really shady going on here, it could do real damage to Lieber Investments. She had written a takedown before, for her friend's website, but without any real evidence it hadn't gotten much traction. So here she was to spy on the Lieber compound a few miles outside her hometown. They owned all the land around here, but only a fraction of it was developed. Suspicious businessmen had been spotted in town going to or from the compound. A few local disappearances were also rumored to be connected to this place, including a girl Pepper had known in high school. On top of all that, no one was really sure what purpose the compound was even meant for. Certainly if any of the rumors were true, Pepper considered it her civic duty to do something about it.

She crept up to the fence and snipped several of the links with the bolt cutters. She slipped through and dashed across to the stone wall across from her, ducking into its shadow. She paused for a minute to make sure she hadn't been spotted. Then she found a foothold on the wall, and peeked over it.

This was the south side of the compound, opposite the main gatehouse. Directly over the wall, she spied an olympic-size swimming pool. Nothing going on here at two in the morning. There were lawns surrounding the pool deck, with a watchtower situated to one side. She saw a dim light from the windows at the top. A few hundred yards across the lawn was a cluster of outbuildings, and she could see the peaked roofs of the mansion behind them. Not the best entry point, she decided, and crept around the side of the wall away from the watchtower.

The next place she checked over the wall was more ideal. She tried pulling herself up, but didn't have the arm strength. So she backed away, got a running start, and scrambled over.

There was a long, low Quonset hut just a few yards away from the wall. She hurried over to crouch in its shadow, then peered through the window. She couldn't make much out in the darkness, but it was a small room with one door, a few cupboards standing against one wall as well as a rack of tools of some sort. It looked fairly innocuous, but she took a couple pictures anyway, using her body to shield the camera's flash from any onlookers.

She moved around the prefab building, peering in a couple other windows to find similar rooms. On the other side, between the prefab and the lawn before the mansion, was a sprawling vegetable garden. On the left was an identical prefab; on the right, some distance away, was another watchtower. She couldn't make out much of the garden in the darkness, but the trees, trellises, and raised beds looked like good cover from the tower. Crouching low, she ran into the garden.

Picking her way through the rows, she noticed a wide variety of fruits and vegetables were planted here. It was a functional, efficient design, with none of the aesthetic flourishes one might find in a typical home garden. Then again, it made sense that a garden this large would be geared toward production. Did they sell the produce? How many people were living on this compound?

The main house was a three story Tudor manor. The lower floor was dark brick; the upper floors were white and lined with dark timber with a slight overhang; the roofs were steep and the chimneys were tall. It was an imposing building, and the lawn between it and the garden was wide enough that it would be a challenge to cross unnoticed. But some lights were on in the mansion, and she noticed figures in the windows now and then. She hadn't brought a telephoto lens for nothing. She put her pack down and swapped the lens out.

Lying on the ground between two beds of cabbage, she frowned at the sight of the magnified figures. Was there some kind of fetish party going on here? Two of the women walking around were in full-on maid uniforms, and one might have been wearing a latex bodysuit. Pepper didn't write for a tabloid, though, so this wasn't exactly the smoking gun she was looking for. Of course, she didn't expect to stumble upon any corrupt business dealings going on at three in the morning. Fortunately, she had come equipped with four listening bugs. If she could cross the lawn and plant them on the walls of the mansion, maybe she would uncover something big.

After several more minutes of observation, she changed the lens back out, zipped up her bag, and dashed forward in a crawl. It was pretty dark out here, and the view from many of the windows was obscured by trees planted close to the house, but it was still a risky move. She could only hope it would prove to be worth it.

She passed through a small, ornamental garden and reached the mansion. She crawled in between its outer wall and a low hedge, panting for breath. Once she had calmed her breathing, she stood and took a quick peek through the nearest window. It was a lounge, outfitted with simple but elegant couches and low tables. Could be the perfect spot for a bug, she thought, fixing one just below the windowsill.

She took her time moving from hedge to tree to shrub, peering through windows on the way. She took a quick snapshot of most of the rooms she spied on - flash off. A hallway with tall windows. A huge kitchen.

She wondered again just how many people were living here. The bugs might give her more of an idea. She planted one at the next window, a dining room with a huge, long table. A maid appeared within a second later, stepping through the darkened room, and Pepper ducked out of sight. This was definitely a fetish thing. Even with the brief glimpse in the dark, she could see the maid was wearing a white corset that barely even covered her nipples, a ridiculously short skirt, and a collar. She raised her camera over the windowsill and blindly took a photo, hoping to get a better look at the girl. When she checked the camera, she jumped - the girl was looking right into the camera! Had she been spotted?

Pepper hurried along the side of the house to a better hiding place, and checked the photo again. On closer inspection, she wasn't sure the maid had seen her at all. She didn't look surprised. Probably she was just staring idly out the window. Still, Pepper didn't move. Better safe than sorry. Also... she checked one more time. The maid actually looked familiar somehow.

No, not just somehow. It was her high school classmate! The girl had disappeared without a trace two years ago, only vague rumors connecting her and similar cases to Lieber Investments. This was huge! The break she'd been looking for!

Abruptly, lights flashed on all around the perimeter of the lawn. Fuck, she'd been spotted after all! There was no way to cross back to the fence unnoticed now. So she crawled deeper into the topiary she was hiding behind, and pulled out the collapsible baton she'd brought with her for self-defense. She took the memory card out of her camera and pocketed it securely, then left her camera and pack behind. She'd move faster unencumbered.

Through the foliage, she could see groups of security guards combing the perimeter of the mansion. Two passed by her hiding place without a second glance, but the third group to come by was searching more meticulously, shining a flashlight into each possible hiding place. She tensed for action as they moved closer.

Before they arrived at the bush she was hidden in, Pepper jumped out with explosive force, nearly bowling one of the guards over and making a rush across the lawn. They were fast, though. Shouts rang out from behind her. Another group closed in on her flank, and she could see a group closer to the fence start to cut her off as well. She realized her only chance would be to hide the memory card and talk her way out. In the interest of appearing to cooperate, she dropped to her knees and tossed the baton aside.

Immediately, she was surrounded by six guards shouting at her. One stepped forward and pushed her to the ground. As he snapped a pair of cuffs onto her wrists and slipped a cloth hood over her head, her only thought was that she had fully bitten off more than she could chew.

The guards had dragged Pepper down a staircase and into a basement room. At the center was a heavy chair to which she was strapped by her arms and legs. Apart from that, the cell was bare. She had been sitting alone in the darkness for long enough that she really needed to pee by the time the door creaked open.

As the lightbulb overhead flickered on, Pepper started. The woman who had just walked in was Monica Lieber herself. The CEO of Lieber Investments was dressed in an immaculate black suit, as in most of her depictions in the press. Pepper had already decided on her excuses. "Excuse me, Miss Lieber... I'm really sorry for snooping around."

"Are you, now." Lieber's face betrayed nothing.

"You see, I'm a reporter for the Daily Sun... There are rumors of some kind of kink parties going on here, maybe with, you know, diplomats involved. I'm sorry to have invaded your privacy like this."

"Oh? You're no longer with the Watchdog Project then, Pepper Bush?"

"I, uh... you know who I am?"

"Please. Your attack on my company did not go unnoticed, despite its speculative and inaccurate nature. You're on our watchlist."

"You have your own watchlist?"

Lieber stepped closer and smiled. "Our agents might have picked you up sooner or later. A troublemaker like you, especially such a pretty one, is obviously to be watched."

Pepper flinched. "Picked me up?"

"You ask a lot of questions. So you still don't know what's going on here? I suppose you'll find out," Lieber shrugged. She opened the door and spoke to someone outside. "Get her processed, will you?"

A uniformed security guard holding a taser stepped into the cell, along with a girl in a different sort of uniform. She was dressed in a cream-colored latex suit covering everything but her nose and mouth, with a rubber corset over it, high-heeled booties, and a ring gag. Her wrists were linked with a mere foot of chain.

With the guard standing by, and Lieber watching from the corner, the girl undid the straps holding Pepper to the chair. "Get her stripped," the guard commanded. She started to pull Pepper's vest off her shoulders, at which point Pepper shoved her aside. The guard promptly stepped forward and jabbed the taser into her side.

With no further resistance from Pepper, the girl pulled all her clothes off piece by piece. "You can leave the panties," Lieber declared, and Pepper was pulled to her feet dressed in nothing but. She could feel her entire body blushing at being exposed. She knew her breasts hadn't really developed, and that her dick created a visible bulge in her panties. Which, although they were a practical cut, were an embarrassing shade of bright purple.

The guard handed the girl a black collar identical to the one she was wearing. She reached up to Pepper's neck and fastened it on. It was a simple band made of a strong material, and locked on such that it couldn't be removed except with a key or a hacksaw. She added a pair of wrist cuffs, which then fastened onto the collar, ensuring that Pepper couldn't bring her hands more than a couple inches below her neck. Then the two of them marched Pepper into the hallway.

Lieber stepped out too. "I like that color on you, Pepper," she called after her, and then headed in the opposite direction.

They took Pepper a short distance to another door. She recoiled at the stench of piss as it swung open. There was no light source in the cell, but the light from the hallway illuminated two other girls sitting against the wall. They took Pepper inside, sat her on the cement floor, and fastened a short chain from her collar to an anchor in the wall. Then they left, and closed the door, leaving the three girls in total darkness.

After a minute of silence, one of them spoke, her voice colored by a slight German accent. "Hey, new girl. What's your name?"

"It's Pepper," she replied, her voice hollow.

"I'm Franz. This is Diane. We haven't been here long."

Another minute of silence, then Pepper voiced a question. "What are they going to do to us?"

Diane spoke. "We don't really know, but, we think... they might sell us."

"Sell us? You mean like, slavery?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Pepper thought back to the maid she'd seen, the girl who had disappeared without a trace from the outside world. It made sense. "What were you two doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Franz asked.

"I mean I'm an investigative reporter, that's why I was on the grounds... what were you doing when they caught you?"

A brief silence, and Franz replied. "We weren't on the grounds at all. They bought me from someone else, and they grabbed Diane practically off the street." Right, Lieber had mentioned they "picked up" people on their watchlist.

"Uh, kind of personal question..." Diane trailed off. "But are you also a trans girl?"

"What, are you both too?"

"Yeah."

"I am." Pepper didn't speak for a moment. "Are you... local? Surprised I haven't run into you." It was a small enough town that trans people tended to know each other.

"We both grew up about an hour away," Diane said. "I've lived here for like a year, Franz hasn't but they brought her here."

"Oh." The awkwardness of the situation was exponentially increased as Pepper realized she now really, really needed to pee. "Uh... toilet?"

"Nope," Franz replied grimly.

Of course. Pepper gave up and released her bladder. Warmth in the panties she now wished had been removed with the rest of her clothes, and the mortifying sound of liquid trickling into the drain in the center of the cell.

They didn't talk much after that, but drifted into a disturbed slumber.


Chapter Two

The line of young women in leotards and tights was reflected in the paneled mirrors on the wall of the dance studio as they finished their cool-down exercises. Diane sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, getting her breathing under control for a couple minutes. The girls streamed out of the studio and into the locker room. Diane didn't follow them. She grabbed her coat from its hook and hurried out the door. She had to get to work.

The sun had just set as she lit a cigarette, walking across the empty strip mall to her car. Inside were the sandwich she would eat for dinner and the clothes she would change into on the way to her late shift at the diner. Her day, or rather her night, was all downhill from here. Ballet was the only thing she had going for her right now, pretty much her entire purpose for living.

She sat down in the driver's seat, unwrapped the sandwich she took from the other seat, and started the car. She rolled down the windows and had practically wolfed down her meal by the time she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Cars crept by on her left as she headed into town. She would go to work for a long, dull shift, and then she would return to her shitty apartment and collapse into bed, and then she would wake up with a stunned feeling in the late afternoon and go to dance class. Two hours, five days a week when she got to do what she really wanted, to be totally aware of and in control of her body. She needed to make some local friends, she thought for the thousandth time that day.

She pulled in to her usual parking spot, down the block from the diner, in the lot of an abandoned grocery store. The owner didn't like his employees taking up customer parking. She checked the clock: still eight minutes until she needed to head in and change into uniform. She lit another cigarette and took a deep drag off it, leaning against the car's hood.

A woman in a sundress was just passing by, taking a shortcut through the abandoned lot. "Hey," she nodded at Diane, "do you have smokes?"

Diane nodded and reached into her pocket. The stranger stepped closer and jabbed a taser into her stomach. Diane dropped to the asphalt.

After an indeterminate time in the dark - it could have been five hours, or thirty-five - the cell door creaked open and light fell on the three new slaves. A woman appeared in the doorway. She had a voluptuous figure and wavy brown hair that fell well past her shoulders. She was dressed all in white. Pumps with a three inch heel; silk thigh-high stockings with garters connected to a rubber corset that stretched from just above her crotch to just under her ample bosoms; silky shorts or bloomers, a see-through mesh sports bra; and a collar just like the one they'd put on Pepper. She had a friendly-looking face, but that didn't mean much to the captives.

"Wake up girls... time to get you ready for your new lives." She stepped aside, and two slaves came into the cell. They were dressed identically to the girl who had undressed Pepper last night, in cream-colored full-body latex suits. They unclipped the chains holding Pepper, Diane, and Franz's collars to the walls, and helped them stand. Then the three veteran slaves led the three new ones out into the hall by the collar.

They went down a flight of stairs before they arrived at yet another cement room, an array of shelves and cabinets against one wall. How deep did the tunnels here go? Pepper and Franz's collars were linked to the wall again, in standing positions, while Diane was brought to the center of the room. Cuffs in the ceiling and a large drainage grate in the floor were closed onto her ankles and wrists, leaving her in a spread-eagle position. Over her head was a large showerhead.

This was Pepper's first real look at her cellmates. Franz was almost six feet tall, with a full figure and respectably hefty breasts. She had long, blonde hair and a cute face. Her dick was pretty big, Pepper thought, not that she had actually seen that many real live dicks. Diane was closer to five eight, and she'd clearly been on hormone treatments for at least a little while. She had maybe B cup breasts and budding hips, with a dick on the smaller side. Her hair was shoulder length and light brown. She looked scared as she was strung up in such a vulnerable position.

Pepper herself was five foot six with red hair in a bob cut. She was slender, without any real breast or hip development. She was still clad in her gross purple panties, the only one of the three wearing anything at all.

The busty woman in white stood before Diane, looking her over carefully. "Hello, new slaves," she said, stepping back. "My name is Birdie, and I'm one of Mistress Vera's assistants. She's going to be your new trainer. So these two toilet slaves and I," she gestured to the girls in cream-colored latex, "are going to be getting you ready for that today."

Diane started to cry as the toilet slaves moved in on her. One started brushing out her hair; the other stuck a lubricated enema nozzle up Diane's asshole. It provoked a surprised whine, and she started to sob at the violation. The slave paid her no heed as she pumped water in.

Soon the enema was complete. Diane noisily evacuated her bowels, crying and trembling with shame. The shower was turned on briefly, rinsing her off. Then one of the toilet slaves gathered her hair and tucked it into a bathing cap. She tore off pieces of masking tape and covered up Diane's eyebrows, then her eyes. Diane tried to resist being blinded, to no avail. The other one pulled a large bottle of some kind of foul-smelling grey lotion off the shelf. Then they began a careful application to every inch and every crevice of Diane's body. They stepped back and waited in silence for a few minutes.

Birdie was studying Diane's body again. "You're a real cutie, new slave. I think we're going to spend some quality time together soon. What's your name again?" She didn't wait before answering her own question. "Diane. Are you a virgin, Diane?"

Diane made an effort to compose herself. "Not really," she stammered. She looked like she was going to say more, but then she started to pant and writhe in her chains.

"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" Birdie chirped. "Way more convenient than shaving you every few days though. This is a once-a-month thing, so at least you don't have to look forward to it for a while."

They left Diane straining at her chains for several minutes before turning the shower back on and removed the tape and cap. This time they left it on longer. The water was cold. They shampooed and conditioned her hair and scrubbed her every pore with soap. Then they turned the water off and rubbed another lotion into her skin. "This one won't hurt," Birdie assured her. "Just makes your skin soft." Pepper noticed that after all this handling and caressing, Diane's cock was rock-hard.

Once they were finished with Diane, she was chained to the wall in the manner of the others and it was Pepper's turn. They ratcheted out the chains in the ceiling such that she could just stand on the balls of her feet, the metal grating hard against her skin. Before cuffing her ankles, they pulled off her panties.

She gritted her teeth as a toilet slave touched her ass, spreading her cheeks, and inserted the cold, hard nozzle. She grunted with discomfort as she felt her bowels filling with warm water. The unpleasant sensation was accompanied by pain as she was filled to her limit. Then they pulled the nozzle out and stepped back as she sprayed liquid shit down her legs. She let out a short sob in abject humiliation. She could feel the pitying eyes of Franz and Diane on her, and the taunting gaze of Birdie.

They rinsed her off, leaving her shivering from the cold water, and prepared her for the hair removal cream. She glowered as her eyes were covered with tape. "So, Diane" Birdie said after they slathered the foul-smelling goo all over Pepper's body, "what did you do for a living, in your old life?"

Diane was not in the mood for pleasantries, and didn't answer. Pepper didn't see what Birdie did, but she heard a whimper from Diane before she answered, "I... was a waitress. And I do ballet."

"Oh, you're a dancer," Birdie crooned. "You sure look it. What about you, Franz?"

"I'm a grad student," came the curt reply. "Microbiology."

"Really? Because I read something in your file about, like, a biker gang." No response. "Similar social circles, I guess."

Franz didn't say anything as Pepper started to feel the cream burn. They'd gotten it in her nostrils, ears, and even her ass crack. Fuck, it was like taking a bath in chili oil! She writhed in pain, moaning pathetically, until what felt like half an hour later the shower was turned back on.

The frigid water was more than welcome on her tortured skin. As the toilet slaves started to wash her off, her skin felt slippery as well as completely bare. She panted as they scrubbed her skin and combed out her hair. When they shut off the water and they started rubbing lotion into her skin with their soft, rubbery hands, she felt for herself the reason for the erection she'd noticed on Diane.

They removed the manacles and chained her to the wall with the others. Then it was Franz's turn to get cleaned. Birdie continued her attempts at inane small talk. "So you were some kind of detective, Pepper? I heard the commotion last night." At least now Pepper knew she hadn't been in the holding cell more than a day.

"I'm a journalist," she said flatly. "Why, what did you used to do?"

Birdie gave her an odd expression. "Interesting question. It was something in marketing. Fuck if I can remember any specifics. I so prefer this job... I shouldn't really be talking to you about this, though. I know it can all be pretty overwhelming, your first time. But really, it does get easier."

Pepper didn't want to think about being here long enough to get used to this abuse. She glanced at Diane, who was looking as overwhelmed as she was, leaning against the cold cement wall. Both of them looked away rather than watch Franz shit herself.

The note was pinned under the windshield of Franz's battered pickup when she descended to the parking lot below the lab. She took one look at it and glanced around the lot, but whoever had left the note was gone. "Shit!" she muttered.

She got in her truck and pulled out of the parking lot, mind racing. Compartmentalization was vital in the life she had chosen, and leakage like this note was a slippery slope, a pinpoint breach in a submarine's bulkhead that could give way to a flood. She was too freaked not to mix metaphors.

And it was already six fifty. She didn't know exactly when the note had been left - maybe they'd assumed she would leave work at five - but she was rushed as she arrived at home, changed into her gear, grabbed a granola bar, and peeled out of the garage on her motorcycle.

When she arrived at the old mining road, Mara Wexler was waiting with three of her gang members. "You're late, Lang."

"Yeah, well, I have a life. As you apparently know," Franz seethed, waving the note. "Seriously, what the hell, Wexler?"

Her rival smirked. "Hey, you can't keep a secret like me. Are we doing this?"

"Obviously I'm ready to race, but what's the point of all this?"

"I think I communicated the stakes pretty clearly. I want you off the road, and you want to keep living your stupid little double life. So we'll race for it."

"You really hate me enough to, what, follow me home? Search out my car at work?"

"It's not about my personal feelings. I have friends who want you out of the way here, Lang."

Franz huffed. "Well, if it's just business. You swear you and your friends will keep your mouths shut when I win this thing?"

"Word of honor, if you'll retire from racing in this town when I win it," Wexler grinned, offering her hand.

Franz shook on it, and they got on their bikes in starting positions. One of Wexler's cronies waved them off, and they ripped down the mountain.

The race was close, the lead changing hands several times, but Franz came in ahead by a good five yards. She stepped down from her bike and removed her helmet. "Pleasure doing business with you," she gloated.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you too, really," Wexler said with a sad smile. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, but like I said, I have friends who want you out of the way here."

Five of Wexler's gang-mates stepped out of the treeline. Franz put up a fight, but they quickly had her overpowered and trussed up in the back of their van. As they closed the door, she heard one of them tell Wexler that it would be no problem getting rid of her. They had a regular buyer and could have her disappeared in a matter of days, with a hefty cash bonus for their trouble.

The three new slaves had been brought to a new basement room. The central feature of this one was a piece of furniture that looked like a cross between a dentist's chair and a gynecologist's, replete with leather straps.

This time around, Pepper was the first one Birdie led over to the chair. She didn't like the look of it, and struggled, but between Birdie and the two toilet slaves they had her strapped up and immobile in just a minute, her head back and her legs spread. They put a large, rubber bit between her teeth and strapped that in too. Her apprehension was immediately justified when one of the slaves brought over a tattoo gun. She bit down hard as a crescent shaped seal was marked just by her left shoulder, under the clavicle. She couldn't even see any of the details because of the position she was strapped down in. She would find out later that it was a short alphanumeric code, something similar to a bar code, and a logo - the letters "ML" embellished with chains - all within a crescent-shaped sliver about three inches from point to point.

They bandaged the new tattoo and brought out a piercing gun, eliciting a groan from Pepper. Birdie put her hand on Pepper's head and stroked her hair. "It'll be all right, darling. Over in no time." Pepper quivered in rage and fear as the slaves stroked her right nipple. They soaked a piece of cotton in rubbing alcohol and swabbed her nipple with it.

"Please don't," Pepper tried to say through her gag. The toilet slave lined up the piercing gun while the other held Pepper still. With one quick punch, accompanied by a scream, she was pierced. It didn't hurt as much as she'd expected, at least. They lined up a tiny, U-shaped piece of steel with the nipple, and then stuck a straight piece through both the nipple and the legs of the U, then sealed the ends with tiny orbs. The end result was a D-shaped steel piercing. Then they repeated the process with her other nipple.

When they grabbed her dick and started stroking it, she shrieked at them and thrashed in her bonds. Birdie crossed over to her in a flash and grabbed her roughly by the chin, wrenching her head back into the headrest. "Hey, hey. Let me tell you something you might as well get through your skull right now. When your master tells you something is going to happen to you, it's going to happen. Your only choice is how much it's going to hurt." This didn't calm Pepper down at all. She locked eyes with Birdie and let out a string of invectives. Birdie rolled her eyes and retrieved what looked like a cattle prod from the shelves, then jabbed it into Pepper's flank. She writhed in pain.

Pepper panted around the large bit in her mouth. When they swabbed her dick with disinfectant, she only panted harder. They pierced the underside of her dick twice with more D rings - once just behind the glans, and one just before the scrotum. She let out a plaintive groan, although once again it wasn't as painful as she'd feared. "Last two," Birdie chirped as they swabbed and pierced her septum and inserted a round ring.

"Last one." They unstrapped the gag from her mouth.

"Fuck! Stop doing that! Fucking let me go! You crazy assholes!" She shut up and writhed as she got another jab from the cattle prod.

"Last one. Stick out your tongue," said Birdie.

"Wh- no! Let me -" She screamed as Birdie shoved the cattle prod into her armpit.

"Stick out your tongue." Pepper did, breathing hard and crying. The toilet slaves grabbed it with a pair of pliers and held it sticking out. They pierced it quickly and inserted a tiny bar with a cap at each end, like an uppercase I. Finally, they inserted a round ring into her septum.

"All right, hard part's over. I bet that wasn't even as bad as you expected. Wimp."

The toilet slaves brought over some new device and began to do something to Pepper's dick. She felt them slip a length of thin tubing into her urethra. A catheter, she was pretty sure. It was lubricated, so it wasn't actually that bad, but when they'd finished inserting it she felt a terrible need to pee, even though she couldn't.

Birdie took note of the pained look on her charge's face. "You have to relax your muscles. Like you're peeing. It's closed off right now, though, so you won't actually pee." Pepper took the advice and actually felt a little better as the slaves strapped her dick into some kind of array of rubber and chains.

They began releasing the straps that held her to the chair. She got a better look at the chastity device they'd attached. Her dick was sheathed in a rubber sleeve that connected somehow to the piercings in its underside. It was slightly curved downward, and between that and the catheter she could tell she wouldn't be able to get hard. Only the very tip of her glans poked out from the end, and there was a slightly rounded steel bar curving just in front of it, holding the end of the catheter in place.

The toilet slaves helped her to her feet, and she stood naked and trembling with rage. For fear of the cattle prod, she cooperated as they fitted her with a rose-colored rubber corset. She could feel rigid metal supports inside as they cinched it tight around her waist. It was the same cut as all the other slaves were wearing, reaching from just under her breasts (such as they were) to just above her ass.

Finally, they helped her step into a pair of high-heeled booties in the same rose color. They had three-inch heels and a rubbery texture, and locked onto her ankles. Then they led her over to the wall, chained her next to Franz, and led a sniveling Diane to the chair.

They attired Diane and Franz in the same fashion. Tattoo, six piercings, chastity device, corset and heels. After the display Pepper had given them, they were a model of obedience.

Birdie explained that rose colored attire signified they were new slaves, in the first stage of their training. Her own white clothes were reserved for the assistants of Mistresses, who typically wore black. And of course, toilet slaves were dressed in a light brown cream color.

The three newly-uniformed slaves were led out of the room. Pepper hoped they'd be going above ground, but they had no such luck.

Their new cell was equipped with a flatscreen TV, which Pepper thought was slightly bizarre. There were also three metal posts bolted to the floor in front of it, with a protrusion near the middle. The toilet slaves were all business as they secured their charges on the poles. They were left standing spread-eagle: their wrists chained from the ceiling, hanging at the level of their heads; the ankle cuffs incorporated into their booties chained to the floor; their collars attached directly to a vertical part of the post such that they were looking at the TV; and they were each straddling a hefty dildo attached to the protrusion. They were left in a position where, if they stood up straight, the dildo only pushed into their ass a little bit, but to get any relief for their feet, they had to sit down, resting their full weight on it and pushing the whole thing in. At there was some padding and contouring to the beam it was mounted on, so their thighs wouldn't be hopelessly bruised if they did sit down long term. There was also a tube connected to the end of their catheters, which were then opened. Pepper felt her bladder empty, collected in a waste bottle at the back of the stand.

"I'm proud of you all," Birdie told them. "You're going to do so well in your training. Just remember what I taught you and everything will go so smoothly you won't even believe it. Sleep tight, you three. Or not, as the case may be."

The trainers left the cell and closed the door, leaving them in pitch darkness. But only briefly. The TV flickered to life. The video showed a trans girl dressed in exactly the same uniform the three of them were wearing, getting fucked hard by a big guy with a huge cock. The volume was very high, too, reverberating against the cement walls and floor. And to make the situation even less conducive to sleep, the dildos in their asses started vibrating ferociously.

Pepper was too exhausted to say anything just now. The video ended with a huge ejaculation into the girl's ass, and another hardcore porn video began. At least the vibrators weren't always on. They tended to scale in intensity according to the videos, vibrating hardest when someone climaxed. Despite everything, Pepper found herself wishing desperately that she was allowed to masturbate.

One by one, the three of them drifted into a light and frustrated sleep.


Chapter Three

After some time in the flickering glow of the television, Franz spoke, raising her voice to be heard over the echoing moans of the girls on screen. "This is fucking balls. I can't believe this nightmare."

"We need to get a message to the outside or something," said Pepper. "They have to let us out of this dungeon eventually, right? I bet they have us working in the garden at some point."

"There's a garden?" Diane wanted to know.

"Yeah, how much of the compound did you see on your way in?" asked Franz.

"Well, it was pretty dark... They have these guard towers around the perimeter, but they're spaced out. I mean, I got as far as the main house before someone inside noticed me..." Pepper remembered the girl she'd taken a photo of. That photo was lost now - they'd taken the memory card along with her clothes. "There's a lot of lawns, some prefab buildings, and yeah, a really big vegetable garden."

"Only total fuckers have a big lawn," Franz sighed. The other two agreed.

"Remember that guy in your senior year lit class?" Diane said.

"Right. Total fucker." For Pepper's benefit, Franz added, "He played golf, too. Do you think these fuckers play golf?"

"I bet they do," said Pepper. "Were you in high school together?"

"Yeah, Diane was two years behind me though."

The stilted conversation was cut off as two girls got throatfucked on screen and the vibrators rose to a fever pitch.

Some time later - it was impossible to tell how long - the screen and the vibrators shut off, and a lightbulb overhead snapped on. The door swung open, and two women walked in, followed by Birdie.

The first was a tall, lanky woman with a curtain of black hair and severe makeup. She had excellent posture, likely aided by the odd garment she was wearing. It was black rubber, something like a panty girdle combined with a corset, covering her crotch and reaching to just under her breasts. Over it, she wore a diaphanous black shirtdress, as well as a pair of thighhigh boots with four-inch heels. The end result was that she loomed over even Franz's head.

Birdie and the other girl were in white corsets, high-heeled pumps, collars, and chastity devices just like the one on Pepper. The new girl had close-cropped blonde hair and stood a couple inches taller than Birdie, with a more slender figure.

"Greetings, slaves. I'm Mistress Vera," the lead woman announced. "These are my assistants, Birdie and Seline. You will treat them with the respect due your superiors. You will follow our orders without question. You will address us as 'Mistress' if you are spoken to, or not at all if you are not. If you follow my rules, things will go easily for all of us. If you don't, you will regret it. Say 'yes, Mistress.'"

Pepper blinked at the woman's weirdly formal little speech, but joined her cellmates in a chorus of "yes, Mistress."

"Aren't you good girls," Vera mocked. "Get them fed, get them exercised, get them cleaned. I'll be back." She strode out of the cell, leaving Seline and Birdie to spoon bland-tasting mush into the three girls' mouths. It was hardly a gourmet meal, but at least there was a lot of it. Pepper was ravenous.

Soon they were taken across the hallway, into a larger room with two long rows of treadmills, like a gym. Three of them were already occupied by naked girls cuffed to the arms, trotting in place. One by one, Seline and Birdie unlocked and removed the heels and corsets from Pepper, Diane, and Franz. One by one, they too were chained to treadmills, and a preset routine began. There was an unusual padding in the tread - probably designed to make it easier on bare feet.

Because they were in the back row, Pepper could see the two other groups of girls who were brought in during the forty-five minutes they were walking and running. She watched another group of trainers bring them in and chain them up, and another group lead away the three girls who'd been here first. Pepper noted that the groups were divided between those with dicks and those without, and between the four groups in here, they were two and two.

After their exercise period, their trainers came back in, unchained them, and led them to the room next door. It had a drainage grate on either side, stretching the length of the two longer walls, with several showerheads equally spaced over each. The group that had been on the treadmills before them was already here, getting scrubbed down by their own trainers.

Pepper, Diane, and Franz were chained up, spread eagle, side by side. Seline and Birdie set to grooming them. First, Seline brushed out each of their hair while Birdie administered a large enema. Then the water was turned on and each girl received a thorough scrubbing and shampooing in turn. Their teeth were brushed, and they also had the switches opened to give their catheters a chance to drain their bladders. Once that was done, they were roughly toweled off and had their corsets and heels locked back on. Finally, each one received an injection in their buttock, which Birdie explained was estrogen and a testosterone blocker. Diane and Franz had their hair collected into tight ponytails; Pepper's bob cut was too short for that.

They were taken up a staircase to another of the monotonous concrete rooms. Once again, they were chained into a spread eagle position in the center of the room. Birdie and Seline both took positions by the door, standing at attention.

Minutes later, the door opened again, and Mistress Vera entered, holding a hard wooden paddle. She took a look around, and nodded in approval. "I'm glad to see you three have been prepared for the start of your training," she said. "The society to which you now belong has many layers. Right now, you are near the very bottom, the lowest point a slave can get. Believe me when I tell you that you don't want to be at the bottom. Shit -" she stood over Pepper and stared her in the eyes, "flows downhill."

She stepped around and swatted Pepper in the ass with the paddle. "You will not meet the eyes of a superior. In fact, at this point, it's safe to assume that anyone you meet is your superior." She stepped back to the girls' front. "I am here to teach you the skills necessary for life in a higher strata. You should be grateful for this. In fact, say 'thank you Mistress.'"

She stared Pepper in the face again, and Pepper stared back as she spat, "thank you, Mistress." Vera gave her a cruel smile and whipped the paddle at her breast, connecting with a thwack. Then she punched Pepper hard, in the stomach.

"You would be well advised to listen when I speak to you," Vera seethed. "One more time, showing the proper respect. 'Thank you, Mistress.'"

Pepper didn't miss the horrified looks on her cellmates' faces as she caught her breath and replied, "you're welcome."

Vera rolled her eyes. "Just what do you expect to get out of this petty rebellion?" She wheeled over a small, black cart with an electronic device sitting on top. She picked up wires with small alligator clips at the ends, and attached one to the ring on one of Pepper's nipples. Then she reconsidered, and Pepper winced as the wire was clipped directly to her nipple. She linked a wire to the other nipple, and then to the skin on top of Pepper's dick, at the very back of her clit, which had the girl gritting her teeth and hissing with the sharp pain.

When she had finished, Vera got in Pepper's face and whispered, "thank you, Mistress."

Pepper was silent, but didn't break eye contact. Without looking away, Vera hit a button on the device. Pepper screamed as a stinging electric shock shot through her most sensitive parts. It went on for several seconds, at the end of which she was hanging limp from her wrists. Her writhing had started the clips rocking like pendulums, tugging at her very sensitive skin.

Vera grabbed Pepper's face and stared at her once more. Pepper looked down, and muttered "Thank you, Mistress." She screamed with the pain of another shock.

"I told you that you should be grateful for the service I am providing to you, girl," Vera yelled. "Thank me like you mean it!" To punctuate her statement, she paddled Pepper's ass with each word, causing her to lose her footing once again.

"Thank you Mistress!" Pepper screamed.

"It's as easy as that. This doesn't have to be such an ordeal," Vera sighed. "Girls like you are more trouble than they're worth, if you ask me. But then, we all have our mistresses." She took her place in front of the three girls. "Today, we are going to do obedience training. It's a very simple exercise. When I give you an order, you follow it, promptly, respectfully, to the best of your ability. If you are able to follow these simple instructions, your day will proceed smoothly. If not - well, I've given you an example. Do you understand? Say 'yes, Mistress.'"

"Yes, Mistress," the three of them said quickly.

"Seline, Birdie. I don't need you for the time being. You are free to leave, but don't go too far. I'll let you know when I want you back here."

"Yes, Mistress." The two slaves in white left the room.

"Let's begin with some affirmations. Say, 'I am a slave.'"

Diane and Pepper immediately repeated, "I am a slave." Franz did too, but she was a second too slow, and Vera swatted her paddle across Franz's breasts.

"Repeat it three more times."

A chorus: "I am a slave. I am a slave. I am a slave."

"Say, "I am a sissy faggot."

This went on for some time, the girls parroting a string of degrading affirmations, slurs, exaltations of their mistress, and rules for conduct. I will not make eye contact with my superiors. I will walk like a lady. I will speak respectfully. I will address my mistress as "Mistress." The occasional slip-up from Franz or Diane was corrected with a thwack of the paddle across their breasts or asses. Pepper, on the other hand, was subjected to an electric shock whenever Vera felt she was being at all disrespectful or insincere. "Say it like you mean it," Vera kept telling her.

Sooner or later Mistress Vera left the room, and returned a minute later with Seline and Birdie. They helped Vera uncuff their wrists from the ceiling, and then fitted each one with a white latex armbinder, holding their arms strictly behind their backs, pushing their breasts proudly forward. The black battery pack wired up to Pepper got clipped to the top of her armbinder.

The six of them marched down the hall. Pepper took halting steps, as the swaying gait produced by the high heels caused the little alligator clips on her skin to swing back and forth. Vera pushed the button, shocking her and causing her to stumble to her knees. "Walk like a lady, slave," she said, helping Pepper to her feet.

They arrived at a long room with a vaulted ceiling and a tile floor. The tiles on one half of the room were five or six inches wide, flat, spaced closely. On the other side, they were only three inches wide, with more space between them and edges that rounded off into the spaces between. Bold numbers were painted on the walls. Some were at eye level, while others were higher up or close to the floor.

"It's time to practice walking properly," Vera announced. "Birdie will tutor Diane, and Seline will tutor Franz. I will instruct Pepper myself. When your trainer tells you a number, you will walk over to the numeral on the wall and touch it. Your trainer will correct any error in your posture or walk. These are simple instructions, and I expect you to be able to follow them. Let us begin." Birdie and Seline each brandished their own wooden paddle and shepherded their charges along.

Pepper was left to Vera's tender care. "Fourteen," Vera told her. Pepper set off across the room and immediately earned a shock. "Keep your legs closer together." Pepper winced at the tugging of the alligator clips. When she reached the 14, she had to crouch to touch it, and stand back up. The corset and heels made it difficult, but she at least managed it without another shock.

The next number, nine, took Pepper to the side of the room with the smaller tiles. Almost immediately, her heel slipped into a crack between them, and she fell sideways. Mistress Vera reached down and administered a shock, then stood her back up. "Look where you're stepping, slave." It was only a few more steps before Pepper slipped again, though she managed to stay standing this time. Vera gave her a quick shock anyway. "Better." Pepper only got one more shock before she reached the 9.

The exercise went on for an interminable length of time. Pepper's feet were throbbing by the end of it, especially since she'd barely been permitted to sit down since yesterday. At least she wasn't getting shocked as often anymore, having gotten used to walking in her restraints.

Finally, Mistress Vera stopped prompting her and addressed the room. "You may stop now. All of you, come over here and stand at attention." They all walked over and stood in front of Vera.

"I am pleased with the progress our new slaves have made," she said. "Pepper, do you feel that you have learned a lesson about obedience today?"

"Yes, Mistress," Pepper practically yelped.

"See that you have. Seline, please remove the electrodes from Pepper." Seline hurriedly unclipped the wires. Pepper gasped as blood made a painful return to the parts that had been pinched. "Your training for the day is finished. Seline, Birdie, get them back to their cell. I will see you all tomorrow." With that, Vera turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Seline let out a brief giggle. "She's such a tightass."

Birdie looked scandalized, but she only shrugged. They led their charges out of the practice room and back to the cell, where they unlaced and removed the armbinders. Then they strapped them into place on their posts and brought out the food. Each slave was fed a good amount of the bland nutrient paste. Lastly, their handlers strapped a bit gag into their mouths. Then it was lights off, vibrators on, TV blaring porn.

The next morning was much like the first, not that Pepper was sure they were even being kept on a 24 hour day. Seline and Birdie came in, fed them, undressed them, set them up on the treadmills, got them cleaned up, and then dressed them back up.

Pepper, Franz, and Diane were then brought to another room. Maybe it was the same one they'd been taken to yesterday. Between the complete monotony in décor and the sleep deprivation, it was impossible to tell.

Their hands were chained to their collars, and they were made to kneel on the floor. Then a thin chain was linked between a shackle on the floor and the piercing at the end of their dicks, ensuring they wouldn't stand up.

"Okay," Birdie said, "so today is the start of your sex training. Mistress Vera will be here soon, with three other new slaves. They're, you know, they've got vaginas, so they tend to be allowed more pleasure than we are..." Birdie was wearing her silk knickers today, but she still unconsciously touched her chastised dick through them. "Anyway, basically, you're going to practice eating them out."

She proceeded with some anatomical advice on eating out someone with a vagina. Pepper, having some prior experience, felt free to tune it out. This was going to be so weird and awkward. Even the concept of "practicing" eating people out was weird, given that everyone's preferences differed. Sex wasn't clockwork... But it was hardly sex, given that no one involved was likely to enjoy it much. That was the point, she assumed - to objectify them, make them into dolls.

By the time Vera entered, Pepper was once again furious at the situation they were being put in. The mistress was accompanied by three girls dressed identically to Pepper herself: Heels and corset in light pink, collar, piercings, and a chastity device. They were also fitted with ring gags and several electrodes taped to their bellies. Seline and Birdie set to removing the chastity devices as Vera began to speak.

"Slaves, I am pleased to tell you that your sex training will begin today. In your new lives, you will be much happier if you are able to please your mistresses effectively. And you, slaves," she addressed the ones she'd just brought in, "will be well served by the ability to derive pleasure even from the clumsy fumbling of stupid and inexperienced sissies like these."

Birdie and Seline shackled the girls' wrists from the ceiling, right in front of the three who were kneeling.

"So," Vera continued, "today is going to take the form of a competition. Whichever pair of slaves is able to achieve the most orgasms in the next four hours will be rewarded. And whichever pair comes in last will, of course, be punished. I hope you faggots have at least some passing familiarity with the female form." So saying, Vera turned to leave. "Keep an eye on them, Seline. Birdie, come with me." The pair left the room, leaving Seline to sit cross-legged in one corner. "All right, girls, the clock has started. Better get to it."

A few minutes later, nothing had happened. Seline added, "You know, if you all tie, she's going to count it as all three teams losing. And she'll get worked up if she doesn't think you've made an effort, too." And that kicked things off.

Pepper leaned forward and used her tongue to caress her partner's lips somewhat half-heartedly. The sensors attached to their counterparts' bellies beeped every time they detected an orgasm, and Pepper noticed Franz's pair pulling ahead early. Diane and her partner, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling. Pepper herself managed to slowly up their count, owing largely to her partner's somewhat desperate participation.

Four hours was a long time to be stuck in this position. When Mistress Vera finally returned, Seline reported the totals. Franz was the most successful, with a count of ten, Diane had only achieved three, while Pepper had gotten seven, more than she'd realized.

"Very well," said Vera. "Birdie, take our guests back to Mistress Caroline. And let her know the results of our " With a "yes, Mistress," Birdie set to unchaining the three of them and leading them away. "And Seline, bring out the horse."

"Yes, Mistress." Seline left the cell briefly, then came back with a piece of furniture in tow. It looked like a long, well-sanded wooden sawhorse with a triangular cross-section. The top edge was rounded off, but it formed a forty-five degree angle. She placed a wide stool under the center of the horse.

"Diane, as the loser in our little game, it's time to take your seat of dishonor," Vera mocked as Seline unclipped the girl's chastity device from the ground. Seline led Diane over to the horse, but the girl hesitated to step up onto it. Diane's pleading and crying fell on deaf ears as Seline sighed and took hold of her nipple and genital piercings, pulling Diane up to the stool, holding her steady, and making her swing one leg over the horse. Seline then cuffed a rigid spreader bar onto each of Diane's ankles, keeping her legs from closing and her thighs from getting any grip on the sides of the horse. While she did this, Mistress Vera clipped small weights to her nipple piercings, and then attached a chain from the ceiling to Diane's tongue piercing, keeping her from leaning too far forward or backward. As a finishing touch, she lubricated a large vibrator and pushed it gently up Diane's ass. Lastly, the stool was removed from underneath.

Diane howled in torment as her body weight rested on the small space between her legs. Her arms were still linked to her collar, so she couldn't use her arms to help; she couldn't lie forward or backward on the horse because of the link to her tongue. All she could do was rock back and forth in a vain attempt not to let her body weight rest too long on one point of contact.

"Slave Diane will remain on the horse for three hours," Vera proclaimed. "Slave Franz is to be allowed three hours of uninterrupted sleep. And I will administer further posture and gait training to Slave Pepper." Damn, Pepper thought. She would've been willing to ride the horse for three hours if it meant she could have three hours of sleep afterward.

Vera took her back to the room with the tiled floor for the training session. At least today she had been reasonably cooperative, and faced spanking as a punishment for mistakes, rather than electrocution.

Afterward, Franz and Pepper were brought back to the room to watch Diane getting taken down from the horse. She was a pitiful sight: shaking, crying, and grinding back and forth against the blunt edge. When Birdie and Seline helped her down, she couldn't even stand up.

The three were taken back to their cell to rest for another day.


Chapter Four

For Pepper, Franz, and Diane, training had settled into a brutal, exhausting routine. Being woken, fed, and stripped bare; made to run in place for forty-five minutes; shower complete with enema; dressed in a slave's garb; a day of humiliating training with mistakes and noncompliance harshly punished; being fed and then left to bathe in the glare and noise of the endless porn.

The training was as painful and degrading as it was monotonous. There was a good deal of sex training, with both men and cis women; all of it was as objectifying and awkward as the first session. Diane was a complete novice, but she was desperate to please Mistress Vera and put a lot of effort into improving. Soon she began to pull ahead of Pepper's half-hearted participation.

Obedience training took up a lot of their time as well. It progressed from repeating phrases to doing simple exercises to assuming positions for sex, punishment, or the display of their bodies. Often they were made to do humiliating or disgusting things for no reason, like licking each other's feet, or drinking Mistress Vera's piss. Usually Pepper played along, avoiding the brutal punishments meted out by her mistress, but often her rage at being placed in this situation slipped out.

Once, for daring to actually raise a hand against her mistress, Pepper was dressed in a restrictive punishment hood, a sports bra with tiny, plastic needles in its tight cups, a shapewear-like panty girdle lined with the same, and five-inch heels. Her wrists were cuffed to opposite sides of the back of her collar, such that she was made to keep her arms over her head. Then she was left to stand in a narrow cupboard lined with pins for almost forty straight hours. After she emerged, trembling, with a thousand pinpricks (which were promptly and painfully sterilized with rubbing alcohol), she was totally obedient - but only for a couple days. After that, her discontent had returned, and she was once again the problem student.

One day, two weeks into their training, the three of them were split up after another sex training game. Diane had placed second, and had been sent to practice begging positions with Mistress Caroline for a few hours. As she kneeled, hands held under her chin, she overheard Birdie talking to Amy, one of Caroline's assistant trainers.

"Thirteen days is a little long for one of Mistress Vera's groups, isn't it?" Amy was saying.

"It is. One of our students has been more rebellious than most."

"With Vera in charge you'd think she'd learn faster. Too bad for the other two, I guess."

"Yeah," said Birdie, "they're definitely ready for the second stage. Honestly, I hope the last one gets a clue soon so they don't have to go through this every day. It is what it is, I guess."

"C'est la vie."

At Caroline's instruction, Diane rolled over on her back, Birdie and Amy looking on from behind.

"I swear I'm going to kill her," Pepper fumed. "She's an evil fucking bitch and I'm going to put her in the ground."

They were in their cell, on one of the uncommon nights they weren't fitted with gags, porn blaring at them from the screen.

"Uh, but Pepper?" Diane interrupted her rant. "When are you going to actually do that?"

"The very first opportunity I get."

"But, like, when do you expect that to be?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "They can't keep us a hundred percent locked up forever. I mean, they could, but what do you think we're being trained for? They'll have to give us some more leeway at some point, if they want to, you know, make use of us."

Franz spoke up. "That's my thinking, too. I want them to trust me. Once I have that, that's my chance to get back at them."

"Right, that's what I'm saying!" Diane nodded as much as she could, bound as she was. "I get why you're always so angry at them but, well... It's maybe shortsighted to act on it right now?"

Pepper was silent. The man on screen yelled as he came, and the vibrators in the girls' asses powered on harder.

"I guess I know that," she finally said. "It's just... okay, so I've dealt with some really hard situations in life, I was homeless for a while, I've been institutionalized a couple times before, but that's all ancient history now. I got through it. I can get through anything, I'm a really adaptable person." She took a deep breath. "I guess what I'm most afraid of is, like, maladaptation? Becoming something that isn't me? Or something that I would hate to be, and being okay with it... Maybe when it comes down to it, I'm just not a good enough liar." Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away.

A minute passed, and Franz said, "Damn. I get what you mean, though."

"This is like, a majorly fucked up situation, though," Diane stated. "I think what you're talking about is a kind of trauma. And you don't get out of a situation like this without being traumatized. We... we might not get out at all."

"We're getting out," Pepper said.

"We are getting out," said Franz, "but like she said, it's impossible for us to leave here unchanged. So maybe... you can change in a way that helps us get out."

Pepper groaned in frustration, but she knew her cellmates were right.

"When we get out of here," Diane tried, "we can help each other change back to the right shape."

It would have to be enough, because Pepper knew she couldn't keep doing this forever. The vibrators hummed to life as a pair of women came on screen. The three cellmates slipped into as uneasy a sleep as ever. They would never learn that the conversation had been recorded and listened to, or that Diane's inspiration for speaking up had been scripted by Mistress Vera and performed by Birdie and Amy.

It was only two days after the conversation Diane had overheard that Vera decided the three of them were ready to move on. It was after a long day of sex training, two men fucking them in the ass in turn over and over. All three were mad with frustration, and begged Mistress Vera to be allowed to cum. She of course denied the request, but afterward, they were brought to a room that was empty except for five chairs and a desk.

They were left there unbound until an unfamiliar woman entered. She was broad and bulky, with a distinctive face and a shock of dark brown hair. She was wearing a dapper crimson-colored suit. She stood behind the desk. "Hello, girls," she said. "I'm here to talk to you about moving to the next stage in your training. I hear you've been doing very well in your first stage. I'm here to lay out what will be expected of you if and when we move you up.

"Firstly, you'll be agreeing to basically cooperate, to the best of your ability, with your trainers' orders. You'll also be responsible for certain things your trainers have been handling for you up until now, including feeding yourself, showering yourself, giving yourself an enema daily, dressing yourself, and so forth. You are free to say no to what we're offering, of course. However, your training will continue, and if you were to defer your advancement indefinitely... well, I wouldn't recommend it. How does that sound?"

To become complicit in her own torment, to give up on some level her identity as a human being, was repulsive to Pepper. But this was exactly what the three of them had talked about. More freedom, more opportunity. Pepper nodded along with the others' agreement.

"All right, I'll just need your signatures right here," the woman told them, placing three sheets of paper on the desk.

The contract was just one short paragraph, an acknowledgment that they understood the expectations on them and would cooperate with their training. They took turns using the pen to sign.

"Great," the woman said, "I'll get these filed, and Mistress Vera will bring you to your new cell." She marched out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Soon Vera was back with Birdie and Seline. They clipped thin leashes to the girls' septum rings and led them out. They took them up two staircases and through a long corridor with no doors along it. The end branched out in a Y, and they took the left fork.

Soon they arrived at a long, wide room. Pepper realized it must be a Quonset hut like the ones she'd seen on her way in, but probably one that had been buried underground. There was a huge central area, with a textured concrete floor. Furniture was scattered here and there, both mundane tables and chairs as well as torture equipment. One area of floor looked to be lightly padded, as might be seen in a gym. On the wall opposite the entrance were two large doors like one might find on storage lockers, as well as two regular-size doors. The two long sides were sectioned off into three spaces per side. The walls and doors were a thick glass or plastic.

As they got farther into the chamber, Pepper realized that the six sectioned-off areas were cells. Each one was equipped with three actual bunks - very spartan, but since this would be the first time she'd be sleeping lying down in two weeks, she didn't give a fuck. Only one of them seemed to be occupied right now, by three girls. They were completely nude except for their high-heeled booties, the chastity devices attached to their dicks, and their collars. One of them, a busty brunette, stood up from her bunk to get a closer look at the newcomers.

Mistress Vera touched a panel by the door of one cell, the second on the left. The door unlocked with a click, and she opened it, waving her charges through. They filed in, and looked back at Vera.

"Welcome to your new accommodations. Birdie, Seline, please remove their leashes and corsets." As this was going on, Vera continued. "It's early afternoon, so you have some time to catch up on your sleep before we start your training tomorrow. You will receive your dinner in the receptacle over here." She pointed out something that looked like a frozen yogurt machine set in the wall, with a stack of three bowls set within. "Soon after that, the lights will dim. They will come back on in the morning, when the alarm sounds. At that point, your breakfast will be in the receptacle, and you will have five minutes to eat it and dress in the exercise clothes provided in this receptacle." She pointed to a slot in the wall next to the food dispenser. Then she indicated one corner of the cell, where there was a shallow depression in the floor with a large drain in the center. There was a showerhead mounted on the wall above it, and a nozzle attached to a short hose. "There will be a forty minute calisthenics period. After that - or after a lengthier exercise period, if that is the first thing on your schedule that day - you will be returned here, and you will have thirty minutes to shower, give yourselves enemas, and put on your corsets or whatever other clothing is given to you. This button turns on the shower, and this one operates the enema nozzle. You will be checked for hygiene, so make sure you do a thorough job, and take the full enema. This concludes our little tour. Sleep tight, slaves." The three trainers left Diane, Franz, and Pepper to their own devices.

The three bunks were built along the walls along the sides of the room. They were padded with thin, waterproof cushions and were just wide enough to lie down in. They didn't come with sheets or blankets. The transparent wall overlooking the main area had a number of fist-sized air holes in it. Looking through it, Pepper could see the other group of girls in their own cell across the way. She could also see the two empty cells on either side of their own, through the clear walls. She could also see straight into the cells on either side of her own, through the parts of the wall above the bunks. Basically, she would be sleeping right next to someone in an identical bunk just on the other side of the plexiglass. Not as awkward as Diane's bunk, which was right next to the toilet fixture in the cell on the other side. Pepper also noticed a fisheye lens set into the ceiling at the center of their cell.

The three of them laid in their bunks and fell straight to sleep. They were woken a little later by the occupants of the other cells coming in, many of them peering at the newcomers as they went by. Pepper tried the food dispenser, and it poured out nutrient paste into her bowl, which she ate greedily. Franz and Diane got some too. Then they slept like the dead until morning.


Chapter Five

The blaring alarm woke Pepper up in a flash as the lights came on. Diane and Franz were blearily getting up as well. They hurried over and got their bowls of nutrient paste. They ate it speedily, aware they only had five minutes. Diane went to the toilet corner and peed, balancing on the high heels locked on her feet as she squatted over the grate. Pepper went too, glaring at the girl sitting on the bed in the next cell, who was watching her idly as she dressed in a leotard.

Pepper took her own exercise uniform from its slot in the wall. She grimaced as she realized it was a bright purple spandex leotard, with a high-leg thong cut. It reminded her of the purple panties she'd been wearing when she was first taken prisoner. Diane's was a bright pink color, and Franz's was a light powder blue. There was also a pair of flat-soled sandals for each of them, but they couldn't remove their booties.

They'd just gotten their uniforms on when a phalanx of women in identical outfits marched through the door and into the central room of the cell block. Each of them was wearing what looked like a latex sport bikini in a shiny, metallic blue, with a red stripe down one side. They had fingerless gloves of the same material, flat-soled shoes, their hair in ponytails, and the omnipresent collars. There were six of them; one approached each cell and opened the door. They unlocked each girl's high heels in turn and let them put on their exercise shoes, leaving the booties in pairs by the door of the cell.

All eighteen of the prisoners filed out into the main space and stood in a cluster in the padded area of floor. The women in blue stood across from them. "All right," one of them said, "time for some basic exercises. Let's start with some lunges..." Two of the other trainers demonstrated the stretch.

They led the girls through some basic stretches and yoga poses, alternating with sit-ups and other exercises. None of the girls talked to each other, and Pepper followed their lead, but she at least got a closer look at them. She realized now that every prisoner in this block was a trans girl, continuing the trend of separating them by genital configuration. She also noticed that three of the other girls were wearing one-piece swimsuits rather than leotards - same cut, different fabric.

After forty minutes of calisthenics, half the girls were returned to their cell. The other half, Pepper's group included, were led from the cell block into the hallway. Given that they were alone, largely unrestrained, and outnumbered their trainers, it was hard to resist going apeshit. But she was conscious of the security cameras prominently visible in every corridor, and she knew this would be the worst possible day to try anything.

They split up along the way, two trainers leading each group to their destination. Pepper's group was taken up a narrow staircase into the interior of a shed lined with shelves of exercise equipment. The sunlight streaming in through the crack in the door was the first natural light she had seen in weeks.

There was a woman waiting there for them. She wore a singlet in the same metallic blue as the other trainers, a red stripe up one side. Her shoes were heavy combat boots in the same color, and she had fingerless gloves as well. She was at least six feet tall, muscular, with close-cropped blonde hair. "Kneel," one of the women who'd brought them here whispered to the group, pushing down on Franz's shoulders. They obeyed.

"New slaves," said the tall woman, "I'm Mistress Hannah. I'm the slave fitness coordinator for this facility. These fine ladies are my assistants. I make a habit of greeting all the new slaves. Today is your first exercise period. You're slated to run laps today, which means you're going to be allowed onto the outdoor track. Now, some slaves see sunlight and they snap, they take off for the outer walls. I'm sure you won't be as dumb as they are. You can rest assured that we are not only watching you closely, but your collars have built-in anti-theft devices. Have you ever heard of an invisible fence? They make 'em for dogs, but the same principle applies to you. If your collar detects you leaving the area you have clearance for the day, Rover gets a big, old shock. And make sure you do what your trainers tell you, because they'll have no problem putting you over their knee if they need to. So keep your head on straight and we won't have any problems. As you were." Mistress Hannah nodded at them, nodded at her trainers, and left through the door of the shed.

The trainers led the girls out too, onto a field. Nearby was an oblong running track with a rubbery surface. "All right, slaves," one of the trainers said, "let's start you off with five laps in the next fifteen minutes, then five pull-ups on the bar over there. If you need water, that's over here. If you understand, get going!"

The three of them got going, running along the track.

After their exercise period, the three of them were taken back to their cell. The fitness assistants locked the high-heeled booties back on their feet, and left them to their half hour alone. Franz took first shower, stripping off her powder blue leotard and ducking under the showerhead. Pepper looked away as Franz did her enema, only to accidentally make eye contact with a girl in the next cell who was that very moment releasing a spray of shit down the drain. She didn't even seem bothered.

When she stuck the nozzle up her ass and pressed the button to start the enema, the warm water pumped up into her bowels. When she felt full, she pressed the button again, but it didn't stop.

"It's a fixed size," Diane said as Franz tightened her corset. "It stops when it stops, I guess."

Pepper rolled her eyes and took the nozzle out, letting the water pour down the drain along with her shit. She finished showering and Diane helped her into her corset as Franz took her turn showering.

They had been cleaned and dressed for a few minutes by the time Mistress Vera and her assistants opened their cell door. "Good morning, girls," she crowed. "How are you enjoying the new accommodations?"

When she got no response, she frowned. "When I ask you a question, you answer it. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress." Diane added, "Enjoying them well, Mistress."

Vera nodded, and commanded, "Stand and present for your hygiene inspection, and bend forward." Pepper spread her legs and laced her fingers behind her head, elbows out. Seline and Diane came around to check each girl's general cleanliness, as well as spreading their cheeks to get a view of their anuses.

"Pepper didn't do a proper enema," Seline spoke up from behind her.

Pepper wanted to cry out - how could she possibly tell? (As it turned out, she was right. They'd watched her take the nozzle out early over the camera mounted in the ceiling.) Instead she shut up as Mistress Vera grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the cell and to a rack sitting nearby. It was a wooden frame in the shape of a numeral "4." Seline helped Vera clip Pepper's nipples and clit to the bars running across the diagonal piece, then strapped her arms down the uprights, and her legs to the horizontal pieces. The angle of the frame spread her legs, thrusting her ass directly out.

"Pepper," Vera said, "I'm disappointed. I thought you were prepared to administer to your own bodily needs, but I see now I was mistaken." Birdie stood at attention behind Vera, holding leashes attached to the clit rings of Franz and Diane.

Seline rolled a cart over from the closet. A water tank was perched on top, and she handed Vera an enema nozzle attached to it. She promptly shoved it up Pepper's ass sans lubrication. Pepper cried out as she felt cold water pump violently into her ass. Her bowels filled up quickly, and she began screaming and groaning as she felt it pushing against her insides. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if she wasn't in her tight corset.

Long after she felt she couldn't take any more, Vera pulled the nozzle from her ass. She could see Seline holding a five-gallon bucket in her peripheral vision. She clenched her muscles for all she was worth until Vera announced, "you may shit, Pepper."

Once she had expelled the mostly-still-clear water into the bucket, Vera picked up a riding crop and lashed it violently across her ass. Pepper tried to avoid flinching, since it caused her to painfully tug on her nipple and clit rings. After her entire ass was stinging, they unbound her from the frame.

"Next time you perform your enema improperly, I'm going to pump you full of chilli oil. I hope that's the last word I need to give you on the subject."

"Yes, Mistress!" Pepper cried, standing at attention as Seline attached her leash.

Mistress Vera led the group out of the cell block to their training room for the day.


Chapter Six

In the second stage of training, life once again settled into a routine. Waking up to the blaring alarm. Hastily eating and getting dressed, then calisthenics with the fitness assistants. A more intense exercise session immediately afterward, on about half the days. Sometimes it was running; sometimes they did weight training; sometimes they swam laps in the pool. After the morning exercise, they were returned to their cell to shower, cleanse, and change clothes. All three girls were careful to take the full enema.

Then Mistress Vera came and got them, and it was time for a lengthy training session. Often it was sex training, less oriented toward blunt objectification than in the first stage, and more focused on technique and learning commands. Other times Mistress Vera inflicted subjugation and humiliation on them, putting them firmly in their place. Once a week, they got a thorough cleaning at the hands of Birdie and Seline, which included removing their collars and chastity belts. This was also when they got their hormone shots.

After that, if they hadn't had an extended exercise period earlier, they had one in the evening. Then they were returned to their cell, undressed, ate, and slept more or less soundly.

The routine was broken, however, by something their trainers called "extended exercises." One or all of the girls would be taken by a mistress for a multiple-day session. Diane was selected for one of these after a week of the new training. All three of the girls were scared and uncertain when she was taken one morning. When she got back in the evening of the next day, she told them about it.

Mistress Mourning, a small woman in a black latex catsuit, had kept Diane as her pet. Her arms and legs had been restrained so that she could not stand up, and had to crawl awkwardly. She was made to eat dog food off the floor and to piss on the ground outside. She was kept in a tiny kennel overnight. Still, it wasn't as bad as she had expected, she said.

A week and a half after that, it was Pepper who was being whisked away after the morning exercise period. She was nervous, but she remembered Diane's experience. An unfamiliar pair of trainers in white slave outfits blindfolded her and led her through a long tunnel, then up a staircase. They walked over a wooden floor to a room Pepper was fairly sure she hadn't seen, not that she could see it now.

The trainers pushed her to her knees and began wrapping ropes around her naked body. They put a wide, leather strap across her knees and then bent them back, tying her thighs to her shins. Her wrists were tied together behind her back, and the rope was then passed through her legs and connected with webbing that was being carefully woven across her torso. Once they'd finished with that, they hoisted up the leather strap that was tied behind her knees, and Pepper along with it. They left her hanging upside down from her knees, legs spread, arms bound behind her back so that any movement of them would tighten the crotch rope.

Several minutes went by before Pepper heard a voice. It was familiar, but it took her a few moments to place it. "Slave Pepper. Welcome to my boudoir. I've been doing some reading..." It was the head bitch herself, Monica Lieber!

Pepper screamed as yet another sliver-thin needle pierced her flesh, finishing the set of six in each tit that Monica had inflicted on her. Brass weights clipped to a chain running between her nipple rings swayed back and forth as her body did. Tiny rivulets of blood dripped down over her face, running over her blindfold.

"Oh, let me get that for you" Monica said as she pulled the blindfold off. Pepper blinked at the sunlight that streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling window. She was suspended in the center of a small studio with a hardwood floor and racks of metal and wooden and leather implements hung on the walls. She could see a picturesque square of garden out the window, surrounded by low stone walls choked with climbing vines.

Monica Lieber stood at one of the racks, picking out a leather crop. She was a tall, slim woman with a boyish figure and a boyish haircut. Platinum blonde hair, cool blue eyes. She wore black slacks and a white shirt, jacket removed, with several buttons undone at the top. Her white bra, embellished with lace, was clearly visible.

Holding the crop of her choice, Lieber came back over to Pepper and squatted down before her. "You know," she sighed, "I actually enjoy the prose you wrote in your former life. It's a shame it was so misdirected and attention-seeking. It's so lucky for you, this opportunity to straighten your life out."

"Yes, Mistress," Pepper spat, "I'm the picture of gratitude." Her eyes widened as Lieber leaned forward and, cradling her head in her hands, kissed her full on the lips.

"I can see just how grateful you are, slave," Monica said, standing. With a quick motion, she lashed the crop across one of Pepper's ass cheeks. "And how unhappy you are with the life you have now. But, slave, I can promise that you will not feel this way forever. I know about these things, I've had ten years of experience." She continued lashing Pepper's ass, grinning at the girl's writhing and whimpering.

"I inherited my company from my father, you know, including this very facility. From the very day I came of age, he trained me in the training of slaves." Another barrage of lashes, ignoring Pepper's cries of pain. "A family tradition, one I take pride in."

"Fucked up," was all Pepper could think to say.

"I wouldn't expect you to comprehend the beauty of it," Lieber sighed, tugging idly at the weight hanging from Pepper's nipples. "My father taught me that shaping a girl to fit into her rightful place in life is the ultimate pleasure. But enough about him. You live half a continent away from your parents, don't you? Little if any relationship with them, from what my people found. I wonder if they're even aware of your disappearance."

"Who gives a fuck," Pepper snarled. "Only reason my friends haven't found me is-" She cried out as Lieber attached a similar weight to the piercing on her dick, pulling it down toward her navel and tugging at the sensitive member. "I was stupid, I didn't tell anyone where I was going that night. I know they must have looked for me. Maybe still are."

"They won't think to look here, I'm sure," Monica shrugged. "As far as I can see, there wasn't much point to your old life at all. You can't have made more than five thousand dollars a year as a quote-unquote 'journalist,' lived alone, no pets... you'll see in time that this is where you really belong."

"Deranged bitch." Monica gave her an open-palmed slap on the tit.

"I would expect more respect from a girl at her second stage of training," she said lightly. "But I forgive you. I like a slave with a little personality myself, even if it's not ideal at auction. We have time before then, though."

Lieber unbuckled her belt and stepped out of her black slacks, revealing lacy white panties. She pulled those down too, and stepped closer to Pepper. She could smell the sweet odor of Lieber's sex. "I want you to suck my cunt, slave. I know you've had plenty of practice, so I expect you to do a good job of it."

"Never practiced upside down," Pepper muttered as Monica took another step closer and pulled Pepper's tormented body closer. Pepper began to lap at Monica's pussy, putting her training to use.

Pepper whined through the ring gag between her teeth as Mistress Lieber thrust her massive strap-on in and out her asshole. It was at least nine inches long, with a surface covered in tiny bumps that stimulated Pepper, but was also rubbing her membranes raw. To make matters much worse, the strap was lubed in something that burned with an icy, menthol-like heat.

Pepper was standing bent over, legs spread wide, arms bound behind her back and then linked to a hook in the ceiling. The position put a great deal of strain on her shoulders, and between her high heels and Lieber pounding her in the ass, it was all she could do to avoid falling over and dislocating something.

She was dressed in a sleeveless leotard of white mesh, see-through, with holes allowing access to her nipples and asshole. Over that, a tight bondage harness of soft, bright purple leather straps. A wide collar around her neck connected to straps that ran diagonally down her chest and her back to either side of her ribcage. A strap connected those two points, running under her boobs and giving them a little support, at least when she was upright. The rings at her ribcage were also connected to a point just over where her pubic hair would have been, if she had any. One set of straps formed a "V" across her stomach. The other formed a "V" down her back, then crept between her legs to meet at her crotch, squeezing the sides of her chastised penis and pushing it outward. The harness was tight enough that it felt like it was squeezing her flesh out in the same way wherever it ran. The outfit was completed by a pair of white, thigh-high stockings held up by a string-thin garter belt, and a bright purple pair of four-inch pumps. And, of course, the ring gag strapped between her teeth. The chain with its brass weight was still dangling from her nipple rings, too.

Tears ran down her cheeks as her asshole was scraped raw by Monica's evil prosthesis. Monica was moaning too, but with pleasure, stroking herself around the edges of where the strap pressed against her own pussy. She reached one arm around Pepper's thighs, placing her warm hand on Pepper's stomach in a kind of embrace. She kept pumping ecstatically in and out.

Eventually, after Pepper had gone as limp as she could and stopped making any sound at all, Lieber pulled out and unclipped Pepper's arms from the ceiling. Pepper dropped to her knees, then fell over on her side. Lieber left the room, and Pepper had a few minutes to recover before a pair of toilet slaves entered.

They led Pepper to stand by pulling at the chain on her nipple rings, then detached it. Each placing a hand on her bound arms, they led her out into a hall lined with an ornate rug and decorated with abstract art. A nearby door led to a tiny half-bathroom. Its size didn't stop the toilet slaves from following her in, though.

They undid the crotch strap of Pepper's harness, leaving her pelvis covered only by the sheer white leotard. One of them knelt behind her and pushed a rubber tube through the hole that granted access to her asshole, through her legs, and then manipulated it through the fabric to connect it to the catheter incorporated into her chastity device. When she twisted the switch that allowed Pepper's bladder to drain, it ran through the tube and into the toilet.

She disconnected the tube as the other slave pushed an enema nozzle at the end of a hose incorporated into the toilet into Pepper's asshole. She moaned in discomfort and exhaustion as she was filled up with warm water. They sat her down on the toilet and stood silently by as she voided her bowels. Then they stood her up and gave her a second enema, this one smaller and out of a disposable bag they had taken from a cabinet. The liquid was cool and oddly slimy, but her brutalized asshole was actually a little less painful after she'd expelled it.

They re-fastened Pepper's crotch straps, then removed her ring gag. She worked her sore jaw as they led her back out into the hall.

She was taken into a sunroom and up two flights of hardwood stairs, her escorts keeping her steady on her heels. She glanced out the three-story-high windows as she climbed, but night had fallen and all she saw was her own reflection. Two mistresses, clad in black, were lounging on a couch on the second floor loft. They paid little attention as the trio passed by on their way upward.

The third story loft was a round space, with a soft plush rug in the middle. Two doors led deeper into the house; Pepper was led into the one on the left. They proceeded through a short hallway to a dressing room. Two walls were lined with racks and shelves of clothes, one had a bay window, and a wide vanity equipped with a bevy of cosmetics.

They sat her down at the vanity and began pulling out the makeup they would use on her. Pepper stared at her reflection in the mirror. One of the toilet slaves began brushing her limp hair, giving it volume. The other applied light, natural-looking makeup to her face. When they were finished, Pepper looked less exhausted and sad.

They led her back out of the room and through the door at the end of the hallway. Pepper's eyes widened as she beheld a spacious bedroom. The floor was a dark hardwood, and most of the upholstery was in a light golden color. The bed was enormous, bigger than a king size, and the ceiling above it was mirrored. There were a few couches and chairs in a loose ring on the other side of the room. Past the furniture was a floor-to-ceiling window with a door onto a veranda that overlooked the house's central atrium. As she was brought deeper into the room, she could see it was a courtyard roofed in glass, a tree in the center and shrubberies around the edges.

The toilet slaves pushed her to her knees by the foot of the huge bed. One of them clipped a short chain to link her clit piercing to an unobtrusive eyehook built into the floor, then they nodded at her and left the room. She could have unclipped it easily, if her arms hadn't been bound, but as it was it was an insurmountable obstacle.

Pepper sat on her legs, exhausted and in pain, for twenty minutes before Monica Lieber stepped into the room. She was completely naked, and her hair was wet.

"Slave," she nodded. "You performed well today. I thought I might offer you the choice of sleeping with me tonight. Although if you prefer, you can stay down there all night."

"Thank you, Mistress, I would be delighted," Pepper sighed. Lieber unclipped her from the floor and helped her into the ocean of sheets and blankets, impossibly soft against Pepper's bare skin. She laid on her side, the armbinder making it hard to move around the bed and preventing her from lying face-up.

Pepper expected Lieber to pull out some horrible torture instrument, but the woman simply laid down next to her and pulled the blankets over them both. She reached around Pepper's body, cuddling her from behind and stroking her gently. After several minutes of this, Pepper relaxed. Although she was being held by the woman she hated most in the world, she was lying in the most comfortable bed of her life and not being subjected to torture. Not high standards, but it was enough that she soon dozed off.

Wake-up came later than usual for Pepper the next morning. Monica was already gone when she was shaken awake by, she was pretty sure, the same pair of toilet slaves that had taken care of her last night. They drained her bladder and her bowels, then took her back into the dressing room. There, they wordlessly removed Pepper's armbinder and put clothes on over her harness. There was a white dress, sleeveless and just slightly see-through, with a wide neckline and a short skirt; there was also a purple corset they laced tightly over the dress.

They took her by the arm and led her downstairs to an understated dining room. The table was set with fresh bread, jellies, fruit, and eggs Benedict. They sat Pepper in one of the four chairs, and stood next to her, waiting.

Soon enough Mistress Lieber entered. The toilet slaves nodded at her, then made their exit, leaving Pepper alone with Lieber.

"Help yourself to breakfast, slave," Lieber said magnanimously. Pepper had hardly dared to hope that she would actually be allowed to eat the food, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for the best meal she'd had since she was captured. Well before she was captured, she amended her opinion as she tasted the eggs Benedict.

Monica picked at her food while Pepper barely resisted the urge to stuff her mouth. She was sure that this was some kind of setup, putting the food in front of her only to cruelly pull it away. But there was a chance Monica would let her continue to eat as long as she showed decorum, so she forced herself to slow down.

"You did well yesterday," Monica commented.

"Thank you mistress," Pepper replied mechanically, and bit off a chunk of bread.

"But I hope you understand that you didn't earn this meal. In my graciousness, I've taken pity on a pathetic little bitch of a slave."

"Yes, mistress."

Monica studied her for a minute, then smiled wide. "After you've finished your treat here, the help will return you to your cell block. I have auction preparations to attend to today." Monica paused to eat a few grapes. "How long have you been in training, slave? More than a month now, altogether. Next month's auction will be your big day, I believe."

Pepper had mostly finished eating when Monica stood up to leave. "I'm sure you'll put the effort into your training, slave. Best to avoid being sold too cheaply, or you might end up with someone who considers you disposable..."

"Yes, mistress," Pepper hastened to reply. Monica took her leave as another mistress came in to take Pepper back to her cell block.

The dull grind of training persisted through the next weeks, the pain, frustration, and humiliation punctuated with a few more extended exercises.

Franz and Diane were subjected to an especially horrifying session from Mistress Vera, who spent two full days torturing them with insects. She dressed them in rubber catsuits and put huge centipedes inside, then tied them in the mansion's central square as the bugs crawled frantically around their bodies trying to escape. Mistresses and guests came up and fondled them, intentionally agitating the bugs. Then she left them tied up naked in the woods, with honey slathered on certain areas of their anatomy, until the following afternoon. Only when they were positively swollen with painful bites did Vera bring them inside and stick a rubber balloon filled with frantic insects into their assholes, where the intruders writhed stimulatingly.

In the month before the auction, "vocational exercises" were introduced, in which the girls spent a session or two filling the role of ponygirl, toilet slave, maid, or other positions they might fill once they were sold to an owner. In one session, they were dressed as pigs and kept in a muddy sty, before receiving a brutal fucking. In another, they were dressed in slutty "bunny" outfits and led around the house by some of the male guests, sucking them off on demand.

Franz was taken for another extended exercise two weeks before the auction. A mistress and her apprentice kept her in a tiny cage and tormented her with cattle prods and a succession of enormous dildos.

As auction day approached, Mistress Vera began giving her trainees instruction on how to present themselves to attract a higher bid. Their mistresses also began to develop a stage routine for each of them, showcasing what they judged to be an appealing showcase of their talents and assets.

In the final week of training, the three slaves' mood in their cell at night was melancholy and fearful. Their trainers had begun relating graphic descriptions of the fates of slaves who didn't attract bids, and even Pepper was cooperating fully and trying her hardest to become an appealing slave, because this auction would decide the rest of her life, and the alternative was unknown but terrifying.

The three of them had gotten attached to each other over time. If their trainers noticed them touching each other too closely, they were admonished. Hand-holding was safe, though, and they often sat hand in hand in bed during their scant free time.

Franz had been working on an escape plan at one point, but hadn't gotten far with it. Now she was putting the same effort into securing the best possible future owner. The best owner being, she reasoned, the easiest to escape from. Still, what that looked like in practice was exactly what the mistresses wanted.

Diane had adjusted quickest to the brutal control the mistresses inflicted on them. To some degree, years of dance classes had accustomed her to having her body controlled by an instructor. Between that and the cruel punishments they were threatened with, she'd buckled quickly, and worked with quiet desperation to please the mistresses.

Just five days before the auction, the final extended exercise came for Pepper. Once again, she was blindfolded and brought to Monica Lieber, who was reclining in a huge bathtub along with two of her subordinate mistresses. The three of them watched, kissing and stroking each other, as Pepper was suspended from the ceiling by a leather harness. First she was fucked by a succession of male eye-candy, then she was hung upside down and flogged with a leather strap.

After Monica's bath, she had Pepper dressed in a heavy, full-body rubber catsuit. The inside was lined with tiny, square-tipped spikes of hard plastic, which dug painfully into her skin at the slightest pressure. There were harsh high heels built into the suit, making walking intensely uncomfortable. But that was just what she had to do, as Monica led her around the facility, checking on preparations for the auction. She stumbled and fell a few times on the heels, which were at least three inches higher than what she was most used to.

In the late afternoon, still dressed in the needle suit, Pepper had to endure an hours-long orgy with Monica, several mistresses, and a few of the guests who were here for the auction. It was so devastatingly sexy that despite the dull pain, her chastised dick leaked a considerable puddle into the crotch of the horrible garment. At the end of the encounter, Pepper was forced to drink the piss of each participant. She'd had some training as a toilet slave, but not enough. She had coughed twice and sputtered small amounts of liquid, each mistake prompting a bevy of pokes, slaps, and probing fingers from the gleeful dominants.

When Monica went to bed, she took Pepper with her, along with one of her mistresses and three of the guests. Pepper was allowed to sleep nude and unrestrained except for her chastity belt and collar. Falling asleep in the embrace of the muscular Mistress Georgia, Pepper enjoyed the feel of the amazingly soft sheets on her bare feet.

There was no breakfast feast for Pepper the next morning. She was taken back to her cell block in time for morning calisthenics. Despite everything, she felt just a little bit hurt by the lack of personal attention from Monica. She spent the last few days of training with a heavy heart and a terror of finally learning what her future would hold.


Chapter Seven

Wake up came an hour early on auction day. The twelve girls who were being sold were brought in their exercise shoes and leotards to a small basement gymnasium for their calisthenics period.

After forty minutes of stretching and basic exercises, they were led single-file to a large shower room. Toilet slaves washed them four at a time, stripping them completely, even of their chastity devices and collars. Each was chained spread-eagle under a shower head. The toilet slaves administered them three large enemas and let them drain their bladders. Once that was done, they went over every inch of their bodies with an exfoliating scrub. Then it was the burning hair removal foam, then perfumed soap, then some kind of oil, and then a moisturizing cream. Then their hair was shampooed, conditioned, and moisturized, and finally the group of four was brought to the next room, while the next group took their place.

The make-up room was equipped with six sturdy dentist's-like chairs grouped around a central piece of furniture, a circular table with shelves below the surface and at the center, all crowded with cosmetics. The slaves were strapped into the chairs, and the four finest toilet slaves on the compound applied carefully considered layers of makeup on their faces. The rest of their bodies received some touching up, as well. They were each dressed in a loose, transparent white shift and simple white sandals.

Once all twelve slaves-to-be were fully sculpted, Mistress Vera and the three mistresses responsible for training the other slaves arrived and took them to the auction hall. It was a large building on the outskirts of the compound, designed like a theater or a church. The central focus of the hall was the wide, semicircular stage at one end. However, it was at the center that the twelve girls were chained for this stage of the auction. There were four stages there, long rectangles only three feet off the ground. They knelt on the small stages, wrists secured with padded cuffs to a beam above their heads.

For most of the afternoon, they were kept there on display. There were twenty or twenty-five buyers at this auction, and each of them visited once or twice to inspect the merchandise personally. The sheer white slips they were dressed in hid nothing, but most of the buyers made a point of lifting them up anyway, to inspect the bodies of the girls more closely. The attending mistresses politely stepped in to prevent any outright penetration or stimulation, but the customers were allowed to do anything short of that.

In the late afternoon, the viewing period came to an end. The slaves were shepherded into the dressing rooms of the auction hall. They were fed and watered and given a chance to pee, and then their makeup was retouched and they were dressed in the costumes they'd be performing in that night.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our honored guests, it's my great pleasure to announce the start of our one hundred sixty-first slave auction!"

The amplified voice echoed through the hall's backstage. Pepper sat on a long bench under the watchful eye of Birdie. Each of the slaves would be presented by the mistress who had trained them, and to that end, Mistress Vera was standing by the entrance to the stage, holding the leash of Diane, the first lot to be presented. A young man stood next to them, listening to his radio headset, hand splayed out in a "wait for it" gesture.

Vera wore her finest dominatrix outfit. A black leather corset six or eight inches high, worn over a shimmering black leotard. It had a high collar and short sleeves, but was silky smooth, tight and thin enough that the contours of the flesh underneath were visible. She wore a crown of sharp rocks or some kind of roughly folded metal, shimmering just as the leotard did atop her mane of dark hair. She also had black leather knee boots and elbow gloves. She carried a simple strap of stiff black leather, and Diane's leash in the other.

Diane, for her part, had been dressed in a bright pink negligee gown, the skirt reminiscent of a tutu. The top was sheer enough to clearly make out the white leather corset below, covering her skin from the underside of her B cup breasts to just above the thong visible below the short skirt. The white, side-tie panties were transparent enough to make out the shape of her chastised dick. She also wore pink ballet shoes, laced up her strong ankles with ribbon, and a pink leather collar with a black leash attached. Her brown hair was bound into a tight braid with pink ribbon, and a white headband with triangles suggesting cat ears sat atop her head.

The young man with the headset waved them on, and mistress and slave both walked out onto the stage.

Applause rose at the appearance of the two spectacularly-costumed women. Without further ado, Mistress Vera removed the leash from Diane's collar and lashed her leather strap across Diane's sensitive upper thighs. With a yelp loud enough to be picked up by the microphones, Diane began to dance.

A classical melody rose as Diane stepped and twirled back and forth across center stage, barely seeming to touch the ground. As the music rose, she leaped, twirling, and grimaced as her breasts bounced below her gown. She could feel the eyes of the fifty-plus spectators on her. But worse was coming. She stepped toward Mistress Vera, bowing her head as she approached. Vera placed one hand at her waist, one at her back, and turned that into a full bow, treating the audience to a view down the front of Diane's gown. Then she slipped the straps from Diane's shoulders and helped her step out of it. She followed up with another quick blow across the thighs.

Now the music shifted to something closer to a vaudeville tune as Diane continued to dance, her style shifting to match the new mood. She kicked her legs several times, as if she was on a chorus line. Soon, she circled back around to where Mistress Vera was standing at the edge of the stage. Vera forced her into another quick bow, then undid the leather corset and whipped Diane's thighs to set her dancing again.

A heavy beat infiltrated the music as Diane's dance became overtly sexual. She was left in nothing but shoes, collar, and thong, and her unsupported breasts swung back and forth as she did. Although the harsh lights prevented her from getting a good view of the audience, she could feel their hungry gaze. She dropped to her hands and knees before Mistress Vera, who bent down to untie Diane's panties, which she dropped to the floor. Diane's dick was fully revealed, bound in metal wires, with a small weight at the end that caused it to swing back and forth as her hips moved. Vera whipped her ass quickly but harshly, and Diane began to fawn at Vera's feet.

Vera extended one leg, quirking an eyebrow as Diane began to grind against her ankle. "Please Mistress," she begged, "I'll do anything, please!"

"I promised Diane an orgasm if she danced well enough for us," Vera explained. "Ladies and gentlemen, was her performance worthy of the prize?" A cheer arose from the salivating audience. "But then, Diane has just offered to do anything for it. We wouldn't be showing proper appreciation for her if we didn't take her up on it."

Vera produced a huge black strap-on and handed it to Diane. Remaining on her knees, the slave gently pulled the straps tight and linked it to Vera's corset, mounting it on her pubis. Vera nodded and whipped Diane across her bare breasts, prompting the girl to take the prosthetic deep into her mouth. When Vera had finished throatfucking Diane, she moved on to the girl's ass, grinning at the squeals and moans that rose as she pumped in and out.

As Diane panted in frustration, an assistant wheeled out a square frame and helped Vera strap Diane into it, spread-eagle. Diane was panting in exhaustion and frustration. When Vera gingerly removed the chastity device from her dick, she began to slightly thrust her hips in anticipation.

"What a performance Diane has given us!" Vera declared. "But she's been taught as well as any of us that we don't always get what we deserve. Particularly if we happen to be a slave! So, without further ado - orgasmic or otherwise - let the bidding begin!"

Diane writhed in her bonds, begging tearfully for the release she had been so close to. But tied as she was, she had no way of stimulating her own dick as the auctioneer started the bidding at twenty-five thousand. The war to own her was fierce, and in the end she went for fifty-seven thousand, higher than the mistresses had expected. She didn't get a good look at the man who placed the winning bid before she was wheeled on the square frame nto a back room, to await collection by the winner.

Five more slaves went on the block before Franz's turn, the audience rising into a frenzy as the evening went on. Franz stood with Vera, watching the sixth slave's performance come to a close as she was strapped into a wooden frame. She steeled herself for her own ordeal as the bidding rose.

Franz was dressed in an outfit that presented her assets front and center, all in a white latex-like fabric with a metallic blue shine to it. Her ample breasts were supported by a bra with heavy underwire, straps rising along the sides and connecting at the nape of her neck in a halter top. A pair of tight booty shorts squeezed her hips and butt, divided at the crotch to allow access to her asshole and genitals. A string-thin garter belt held up thigh-high latex stockings, and she tottered on very high-heeled pumps that put her total height at almost six and a half feet. Her feet were also spread apart by a rigid bar cuffed to each ankle. Around her neck, rising halfway up the back of her head, was a posture collar. The back was linked to latex cuffs that held her wrists and hands up between her shoulder blades, while a ring gag was strapped into the sides, which made avoiding drooling a constant struggle. Her blonde hair cascaded over the top of the collar and around her shoulders.

As the attendant waved them onto the stage, Mistress Vera grasped Franz by the shoulder and marched her out. She took quick, mincing steps to avoid falling over, the spreader bar keeping her legs apart; her breasts quivered and bounced, her bra lifting them up on display but doing nothing to stop their movement; her dick, as erect as it could be when the tip was linked to the underside with a tiny ring piercing, was obvious through her shorts. She was a vision of lust as Vera pulled her onto center stage and hooked a rope dangling from the ceiling into a hook at the back of her rigid collar. It would force her to remain upright, and would be uncomfortable if she moved around too much or didn't bear her own weight, but it wouldn't actually strangle her.

The ankle spreader meant that Franz was in a vulnerable position, as Vera demonstrated, lashing her leather crop across the girl's ass a few times. Once her complete helplessness was obvious, Vera reached over to the small table at her side and picked up a shining phallus with her gloved hand. It was a huge dildo formed out of ice, and she wasted no time in passing it through the split crotch of Franz's shorts and gently inserting it into her asshole.

Franz gasped. Her training for the performance had been considerably less detailed than, for instance, Diane's. Mistress Vera, therefore, retained the element of surprise as she carried out her torments. She pumped the frozen dildo in and out of Franz's ass. The audience gleefully watched her face contort in pain and desire, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her breathy moans projected throughout the room by the sound system.

As the fucking continued, Mistress Vera's assistant Seline paced onto the stage, wearing a skintight catsuit of black leather that covered everything except her head. She began to pinch, twist, and bite at Franz's sensitive nipples, careful not to obstruct the audience's view of the gasping and whining central attraction.

After the spectators had gotten a good eyeful, Franz's restrained dick was dribbling into her shorts, and the dildo had shrunk a few sizes. Vera put it down and held up a bulbous butt plug for the audience, and it vibrated to life as she turned it on and off. Reaching down, she inserted it in Franz. Seline, for her part, had pulled Franz's dick, straining against the chastity piercing, out of the girl's shorts. She kissed the organ, and began to stimulate it with her tongue. Vera turned on the vibrator, then took up her strap and stepped around Franz's body to deliver a vicious slap across the nipples. Franz wailed as Vera lashed at her sensitive parts, but she was also crying with pleasure at the feeling of Seline's mouth.

When Diane was well and truly overstimulated, Seline stood and wheeled out a piece of furniture that had been resting at the back of the stage. A variant of the wooden horse, it had a weighty base that allowed a rounded, triangular beam to protrude several feet forward. Meanwhile, Vera unzipped and removed Franz's shorts.

The hook suspending Franz from the ceiling helped Mistress Vera lift Franz off the ground, and Seline wheeled the horse forward, so that it passed between Franz's legs and over the spreader bar. She took the cue and began to rock back and forth as much as she was able. As she rocked back, the vibrator in her ass was pressed against her prostate and she sighed at the fantastic sensation. Rocking forward, though, was quite painful. They left her writhing there for a few minutes, until she was on the verge of cumming from the prostate stimulation, giving the audience a show of desperation and frustration. Then they lifted her off the horse, wheeled it back, and removed the vibrator. It was an anticlimax, yes, but Franz was the only one to go unsatisfied by the performance.

Vera undid the straps of the collar piece, and removed that, the ring gag, and the wrist cuffs. She removed the spreader bar, too, and then Seline helped her tie Franz spread-eagle into the same kind of square frame as each other slave had been displayed on.

"You've seen how she cries in pain, moans in pleasure, whimpers in frustration... She's bared her heart for you, so let's start the bidding!" Vera sang. "Do I hear twenty thousand?"

A large woman in the front row quickly placed a bid of forty thousand, going unchallenged. Franz was perfunctorily wheeled off the stage to wait with the others, and the next slave and mistress pair were waved onto the stage.

Pepper was the tenth of the twelve slaves to go on the block. Mistress Vera had just brought her out on stage, and was already tying her into the display frame.

Pepper was dressed in thigh-high boots, gloves that reached almost to her shoulders, and a corset that reached from the bottom of her ribs to the top of her hips, all of it in leather dyed as bright a purple as it could be. As Vera strapped her into the frame, spreading her arms and legs wide, Pepper couldn't help but feel that her mistress wasn't being as showy as she had expected, as the other mistress she'd seen perform before them. As if this exercise was less for the audience's sake than for Vera's personal enjoyment.

Vera picked up a leather hood in a matching shade of purple. Pepper's heart raced as her head, except for her nose and mouth, was covered in thick leather. The hood had a hard rubber bit gag incorporated into it, and it fastened around her neck with a slender steel collar. It wasn't as uncomfortable as other types of gags she'd been fitted with, but she knew the mistresses used them when subjecting a slave to something really painful.

Vera clipped wires to the rings that pierced Pepper's nipples and clit, connecting to an electrical device. She added a small, but rough-textured metal ass plug connected to a fourth wire. She switched the device on, and it began giving Pepper small shocks at random to her most sensitive parts. Then, Vera picked up an evil-looking whip. At the base, it was a heavy length of braided leather, but halfway along its length it split into five slender tails. She laid into Pepper, lashing her butt, her thighs and dick, her shoulders and her breasts in turn. Pepper thrashed in her bondage, but there was nothing she could do to stop the onslaught.

The audience was quiet. This exhibition really was different from the others. There wasn't so much as a nod toward showmanship, nor displaying the girl for sale. Her face was covered, leaving no opportunity to observe her reaction to the torment, and her body was being covered in angry red welts. This was no auction, just a brutal display of suffering and helplessness.

After several minutes of this, Vera was breathing hard as Pepper hung limp in the frame. The wires were detached from her body, and the hood removed.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Vera panted, "we will start the bidding at seventy thousand dollars!"

Pepper stared at Vera in shock. What the fuck was going on? No one was bidding, which was no surprise when the bidding started at more than any slave had been sold for so far. A minute went by, the audience silent, before Vera shrugged. "Very well, no bids on this slave."

Pepper was wheeled backstage, her guts twisting in fear. She didn't know why she'd been started so high, and she didn't know what would happen to her now that she'd failed to attract an interested buyer.

The buyers, or their representatives, trickled in to pay and to collect their purchases over the next hour. Most of them immediately took their new slaves to be tattooed with the mark of their new owners. Each of them already had a crescent-shaped seal marked by their left shoulder, which was then completed by their new owner into a full or half circle.

Pepper was left hanging in her frame to stew in her terror, the last slave left in the auction hall. The attendant who was watching over the girls waiting to be picked up said nothing, and would punish Pepper if she said anything, so the two of them waited in silence together.

Half an hour after the other slaves had all gone, a woman entered, attended by a pair of toilet slaves. She was petite, blonde, and dressed in a simple dress of black leather. "Slave," she greeted Pepper. "You received no bids at auction, and thus remain the property of Miss Lieber. Most often, a slave in your position becomes a toilet slave, or perhaps a maid. The former, if I had anything to say about it." She shook her head ruefully as the toilet slaves unbound and lifted Pepper from the square frame, helping the battered and exhausted girl to stand. "And I would be the one to say, if I didn't have special instructions from your not-so-new owner herself." Pepper raised her head at that, suddenly daring to hope she wasn't destined for one of the terrible assignments she'd been warned about, if no one were to bid on her.

The small woman led the way outside, where they walked across the broad lawn toward the sound and light of the wild party being thrown at the mansion.


Chapter Eight

The sun was setting by the time the carriage returned to the tower, red and orange light reflecting off the glassy heights that rose over the rolling grasslands. As it pulled to a stop, an attendant came out the door in its side, and helped Queen Ariadne step down in front of the glass doors. The queen's record-keeper followed them out, leaving the carriage empty, and the three of them strode into the tower.

The coachman cracked his whip, and Franz helped her five fellow ponygirls at the reins pull the carriage to a start. He didn't work them too hard as they pulled around the side of the tower to the garage and stables. They'd been hard at work today, as the Queen visited a couple of neighbors.

The Queendom wasn't a sovereign nation, just the property of one woman with an oversize ego. It was located in a secluded part of northeast Africa, nearby several similar enclaves owned by other wealthy dominants. It didn't matter, though, as the hold she had over her subjects was stronger than any medieval king's.

They arrived at the stable, and the grooms came out to unfasten each pony from her rigging. Each one of them was dressed in a different color of shiny sports bra and bikini-like shorts. Franz's was sky-blue; her neighbor's was golden. Over that was secured a black leather harness that that ran through their legs, around their breasts, and up over their shoulders. It linked to the broad reins that linked them in three rows of two out in front of the carriage at a point under the arms, at the sides of the chest. In addition, fine lengths of chain ran through the web of rigging and passed through strategically placed slits in the sports bikinis each of the girls wore. It allowed the driver to pull on the piercings in sensitive parts of their anatomy, thereby steering them. An upward tug to the nipple if they were supposed to turn, or a tug backward, through the legs, on the clit ring if they were to slow down. The "speed up" signal was, of course, the whip.

In addition, the ponygirls wore knee-high boots that ended in wide hoofs. They weren't as uncomfortable as they looked, as they were designed for actual use by active ponies; there was a system of rigid and springy supports on the inside that made it easier to pull a carriage for extended periods than a typical pair of tennis shoes would. Their hands were bound in fists within leather mittens that were linked to the harness at the waist. It didn't keep their arms as immobile as an armbinder would have, but they certainly couldn't do anything useful with their hands. Linked to the top of the harness, there were the hoods: black leather, covering everything from the neck and above but the nose and mouth, holes for narrow lenses over the eyes, and a small opening at the top of the head. The latter allowed for Franz's luscious blonde mane to spill out over her back, reaching to the small of her back. It was mirrored by a blonde tail which was held in place at her waist by the harness. Finally, each ponygirl was equipped with a narrow bit gag, more for show than function.

Franz's groom was a portly, forty-year-old man called Pete. He was the one to detach Franz and her partner, Gloria, from the rigging. His charges were all mildly disgusted by him and his naked lust for the girls, but at least there were strict rules that kept him from doing anything overtly sexual to them. Still, he was the one to take them behind the stable, strip them nude, and give them a good washing off with a hose and a succession of washcloths as they stood in the grass and let him handle them.

Gloria was Franz's partner. They had been brought to the Queendom at around the same time, had been trained together, and now they were usually side by side when they were being used as ponies. They had a friendly rivalry, but they worked well together. Gloria was five foot ten and, like all ponygirls, muscular. Her mane was dark brown, and her tits were large enough to bounce as the golden sports bra was lifted over them. A chastity device was affixed to her vagina, similar to the one fitted to Franz's dick.

Pete dressed the two ponies in their sleepwear. This was simply a pair of compression thigh-highs, which would sooth the girls' sore feet and legs as they slept, and a silky shift that hung just low enough to hide their chastity devices. He then brought them to the little room they shared in the stable. There were two narrow bunks, amply padded with straw and rough blankets, a combination toilet and sink, and a wooden floor littered with straw. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer, but not too uncomfortably so.

Franz and Gloria sat in silence, resting from a day of intense exercise, for the few minutes it took for Pete to return with their dinner. Each slave had her teeth pulled on arrival and replaced with a set of hard rubber dentures, so there was nothing too solid, but it was hearty fare anyway. Mashed potatoes were a common feature, and various finely-ground meats, and a haphazard smoothie of whatever vegetables had been going bad that day. The two wolfed their meals down, and were soon sleeping soundly.

Typically, for ponygirls, their morning routine was simple. After a nutritious breakfast, if they were pulling a carriage that day, they'd be fitted with their tack and wait with the others until they departed. After a day as long as Franz and Gloria had had yesterday, however, it was unlikely they'd be assigned a carriage. Instead they'd have time to rest, a short but intense exercise period, and then be taken inside to be dressed in a variant of the pony outfit that was more geared toward looking sexy than practicality. Attired thus, they'd have time to rest as they waited for guests that could show up at any time, or not at all. The pony stable was a popular destination for visitors and residents who wanted a quick fuck.

However, Franz was not a full-time ponygirl. She'd started out filling the position for three weeks a month, but that had gradually been scaled back until she only spent two five-day periods a month as a pony. The primary industry of the Queendom was porn, and Franz was modestly popular among the subscribers. Aside from videos, she was also available as an escort to visitors during their stay. Yesterday had been the end of her ponygirl shift, so just after wake-up, she was brought to one of the dormitories in the tower. Gloria came, too - she wasn't popular as a porn actress, but she had a role in the tower as a maid. They removed their sleep socks as they left the stables.

It was a long, narrow, windowless room with bunks built into one wall, three high. Along the other wall were three large alcoves. Each one was equipped with several toilets and shower stalls (doorless, naturally) as well as a set of vanities for applying makeup. Franz and Gloria joined the press of bodies as all the girls prepared themselves for their various occupations. Most were either naked or wearing the simple shift that was the most common sleep clothing for slaves.

Franz claimed a toilet, where she peed and gave herself an enema. After that, she showered, put on the clothes she'd been handed on her way in, applied makeup, and headed to her coordinator's office to find out what she was doing today.

The lights of the city's high-rises and spires sparkled outside the windows as night fell. Diane was just helping the two maids plate Master's meal when they heard footsteps in the hallway outside. The three of them scrambled to finish setting the table, and by the time the apartment door clicked open, all three were kneeling in the entry hall.

Master was a shipping magnate, a large, severe man with a well-kept black beard. He smiled as he entered and found his slaves in their proper places. "Supper smells wonderful," he remarked. "You may stand." He set down his briefcase and stepped into the dining room, where his meal was laid out on the heavy oaken table. Rolling up his sleeves, he tucked in to his meal. The two maids hovered at his shoulders, eager to serve him, while Diane knelt by his feet and sat on her heels. Master rested one hand on her head as he ate.

The two maids were attired in their uniforms: a frilly, white linen apron that covered them from neckline to just below the belt; a black rubber harness around their ribcage that offered similar support to a bra; a garter belt, holding up silky white stockings; black pumps with five-inch heels. They were also restrained with collars, ball gags, chastity belts that prohibited access to their vaginas, and a foot-long length of chain linked to their wrists. They handled all the cooking, cleaning, and chores in Master's penthouse.

The penthouse was at the top of a high-rise owned by Master, at the outskirts of Amsterdam. Its old-fashioned wooden aesthetic was at odds with the sleek lines of the building and its surroundings, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Despite Diane's situation, it even felt a little like home.

Diane herself was Master's kitten, as attested to by her headband, equipped with a pair of pink cat ears. She also wore a long-sleeved leotard of fine, pink fishnet. Over that, a harness of white rubber, tight enough to dig into her flesh and leave imprints of fishnet in her skin even after it was removed. A garter incorporated into the harness down the front of each thigh, and two down the back, held up white silk stockings. On her feet she wore pink ballet pointe shoes, as Master was enthralled by her dancing, and it delighted him when she injected a quick twirl or skip into her movements. White leather mittens locked onto her hands prevented her from using her fingers. A white collar around her neck and a ring gag completed the outfit. Her chastised dick lay tucked between her legs, the end linked with a thin cord to the belt at the back of her harness.

When Master finished his dinner, he rose from his chair. The toilet slaves hastened to clear and wash the dishes, while Diane followed him to his bedchamber.

He turned to her and, with a key pulled from his pocket, he unlocked the tiny padlocks that secured her ring gag and mittens. She removed each one as he turned to the closet. "We're going to Axis tonight, kitten. Touch up your makeup, and wear this." He handed her a few folded articles of clothing, and allowed her to go and prepare.

Diane walked along crowded sidewalks side by side with Master, who was holding her by the arm. She'd always been so isolated from the world when she was being trained, and even after dozens of excursions like this, she itched to cry out to someone, beg someone to save her. But where would she go if that happened? What was left for her in life, but this? And more to the point, the collar around her neck was capable of incapacitating her at a single twitch of Master's finger.

She'd changed out of her kitten outfit, although the ears, collar, and chastity device remained identical. She was wearing a slinky crop top and a short skirt of the same white material. On her feet were bright pink pumps, the heels high enough that she had to really work to keep up with Master.

When they arrived at the discreet black door, Master nodded at the two large men standing guard in front. They stood aside to let the pair enter. Master led Diane into a foyer and gestured to the handbag she carried. She handed it to him, and he took out her mittens and leash, fixing them to her hands and to her collar.

He took her down a flight of wide steps that descended onto the floor of Club Axis. The portion of raised floor just in front of them was the focal point of the room, and Master took a moment to scan the room before stepping down to one side. Diane minced down the steps after him.

They walked toward one group of booths, which were tucked into the corners of the room, set in shadows. Behind them, in front of the stairs, was a display of writhing flesh, leather, rubber, and latex. If you wanted to fuck your sub in Club Axis, or punish them, you brought them to the central stage and joined the throng. Canes cracked, juices sprayed from orifices, moans and shrieks rose.

They passed a cage on their way to the corner. There were several placed around the outskirts of the stage, each holding a dancer in a tantalizing and restrictive outfit. Master sat in a large booth along with his friends, who had three slaves there between the two of them, standing by the table.

The three men made idle chat for a few minutes, ordering drinks from the nearly-naked waitress. Then Master took Diane up to the stage, where he would hang her by her wrists and fuck and torment her for the pleasure of his fellow patrons. Truth be told, Diane would even enjoy it, the attention from Master as well as from her audience.

In a cramped bedroom on the second floor of the Lieber mansion, Pepper was stirred out of sleep by a prickling shock to her collar. She was out of bed in an instant, hitting the repurposed doorbell by the door that shut off the current. Her five roommates were rushing to the door too. They all slept naked, nighttime being their only opportunity to be free of restraints and tight clothing - except, of course, their chastity devices and collars. They hurried out of the bedroom, careless to the press of flesh as they went through the door into the bathroom.

It was a simple, narrow room, the floor a textured concrete slab with a wide metal grating taking up half of it. The girls were practiced at their morning routine. Aria, Tal, and Heather stepped onto the grating and grabbed the rubber-gripped handholds above their heads. By strict policy of Mistress Lieber, they weren't allowed to wash themselves. Instead, they took turns washing each other in pairs, arms above their heads and allowing their fellow slaves access to their every crevice.

Pepper dutifully lifted a nozzle from the wall and inserted it into the ass of Aria. She was big, curvy, with wavy brown hair and what might have been the biggest dick Pepper had seen on another slave girl. Pepper pumped her full of warm water, then stood back. After that, she sprayed Aria down and began applying the washes and lotions that kept their skin soft and shiny. She tried to be gentle as she rubbed the angry red marks that a particularly angry mistress had left on Aria's ass yesterday.

Once she'd washed Aria and had combed out the girl's hair, Aria released her hold on the overhead grips and stood aside, dripping wet. Pepper stepped up and took her place on the handholds, and the whole chore repeated.

Pepper winced as the enema nozzle passed into her ass. She often had bruising or raw skin in that area, but she was used to it, and the daily ordeal was soon over. She closed her eyes as Aria scrubbed her soapy breasts. She'd never developed beyond an A cup, and her hips hadn't gotten much bigger either. Still, she was popular with the mistresses. Her red hair, cut into a cute bob, streamed with water as Aria rinsed her down for the last time.

The girls filtered out of the bathroom as each pair finished their routine, through the bedroom and into the third room of their tiny suite. There was a window, offering a view of the huge vegetable garden, and under the window sat a wooden table set with breakfast.

Although the six of them were high enough in the pecking order that they got real food, rather than the processed paste that many slaves ate, it was still bland fare. There were hard boiled eggs, though, a real treat. Pepper had several, as well as a piece of stale bread soaked in some oatmeal. Breakfast was a quick meal, eaten standing up. That complete, the six of them returned to the bedroom to get dressed and do their make-up for the day.

Pepper sighed and reached into her wardrobe for the most hated part of her uniform. It was similar in appearance to Mistress Vera's signature garment, but, she had to assume, much less comfortable. It covered her rib cage from just below her breasts, down to her waist and between her legs - sort of like a corset combined with a bikini bottom, if that bikini was designed to convey maximum pain to the wearer. It was lined with an array of dull plastic sign that dug into her sensitive skin, which segued into rigid bristles against her dick and asshole. The central seam was very tight, as there was a zipper there. When it was opened, it was easy to access her orifices, and the tight rubber seal kept the painful lining from protruding into the opening. The corset portion ensured that the prickly lining was pulled up tight against her skin. Walking with it on, needless to say, was incredibly painful, and she would do anything to avoid even a light slap to that area when she wore it.

Pepper worked the torturous girdle up her hips and pulled it into place. She made sure to fit her chastised dick into its proper place, then Aria helped her lace the corset portion tight. The stretchy under-layer was the bright purple color that Mistress Lieber still loved to see her in, while the rigid portions of the corset were white. It supported her firm breasts.

Aria undid the zipper at Pepper's crotch to insert her large, rough-textured buttplug. A circular eyehook remained poking out the otherwise-closed hole. There was a Y-shaped crotch strap built into the girdle. It ran down both sides of her groin to meet up at her taint, where it ran back to be laced through the eyehook, and clipped to the back of her waist. It held the butt plug in nice and tight, but could easily be removed for access to her asshole.

The hard part of her outfit was done, so she helped Aria into her own corset. Aria was an assistant to one of the mistresses who catered to those of Mistress Vera's guests with a submissive side, and was dressed all in white. It was basically the same position that had been held by Birdie, along with two more of her roommates.

Once she had laced Aria up, Pepper pulled up her white silk stockings and fastened their tops to the thin garter straps that dangled down from her girdle. One strap down the front of each thigh, two down the back in a "W" shape. She put on her purple, high-heeled pumps as well. Not painfully high, but they were just small enough to make her feet hurt constantly. Next, she took a steel chain and clipped it to each of her nipple rings. There was a heavy ring at the center, functioning as both a weight and the most common spot for her leash to be attached. Then a pair of white silk gloves that went over her elbows, held up with strips of purple rubber that clung to her arms. The last piece of her outfit was a purple leather collar that fit over the narrower control collar that was only removed once a week for cleaning.

Fully dressed, Pepper applied her make-up, keeping an eye on the clock. She checked herself over in the full length mirror, found no errors, and hurried out the door. It was now six fifty in the morning, and she had just enough time to reach Mistress Lieber's bedroom by the time she awoke.

These days, Monica made a habit of leading one or two personal slaves with her wherever she went on the property. She picked them out each morning like accessories, with the girls who weren't chosen being relegated to other duties. Pepper hated walking around all day in her painful clothing, but if she didn't get chosen, there was a chance that a sadistic guest or some bored mistresses would just torture her for fun. Otherwise they had her run messages or packages around the compound, and she ended up walking all day anyway.

She quietly entered Lieber's bedchamber and stood against the wall. Lieber's four other potential playthings, each in their own torturous habiliments, stood with her. As their mistress stirred, each one of them waited with bated breath. Lieber rose, stood, and began to stretch, naked, on the rug in front of her bed. She sat up to make her choice of slave, locking eyes with Pepper.