Irontown 1: Student Maids (14 page)

Mel shuffled forward on her knees and slid the head of the dildo into Bolt’s cleft, watching her ringed lips spread wide in helpless fascination. She was actually penetrating another girl like a man. The resistance of her passage pushed the rubber prongs deeper into her own slot and she felt her clitoris stiffen. She stopped when the tips of the studs brushed the soft swell of Bolt’s bottom cheeks and Bolt shuddered. Cam and the other girls were watching wide-eyed.

‘As her cage sisters you must encourage her to give herself freely and wholeheartedly to her training without making sour faces. You both need that lesson driven home. I’m going to cane you until you come. The harder you ram into her the sooner that will be. I want to see those studs digging into her behind. Any marks you leave are her fault. Begin!’

Mel bit her lip. Despite her annoying attitude she did not want to hurt Bolt but she had no choice. Yet she had only orgasmed herself five minutes ago. This could take a painfully long time for both of them. Taking a deep breath she pulled back her hips and thrust the full length of the dildo into Bolt.

Bolt whimpered as her vagina was filled and the studs jabbed into her bottom, indenting her flesh. Mel gasped as the rubber fingers toyed with her clitoris. Stapler’s cane swished across Mel’s buttocks, making her yelp and ram the dildo harder against Bolt’s rear, who then yelped in turn.

‘Harder!’ Stapler said.

Sobbing, Mel began to pump vigorously into Bolt’s pussy, setting her breasts bobbing. She could not be gentle so she must get this over with as quickly as possible for both their sakes. But how long would it take her to work her way back to an orgasm?

Not long, it seemed. She could already feel the space between her vulva and the dildo disk getting hot and slippery with her juices. Her clit was swollen and hard, pressing against the kneading, stroking fingers. Stapler’s cane slashed across the tops of her heaving breasts, leaving a red stripe behind. Mel gasped, but oddly the pain was not a distraction but a spur, heightening her senses. She could see Bolt’s bottom getting redder. At least there was no blood but it must hurt. And she was causing that hurt and her own breasts and bottom were tingling. It was all so sick and perverted. How could she be doing this?

The pressure was mounting in her loins. Surely she could not come again so soon! The Headmaster had said Rowland had investigated making slave girls have multiple orgasms even when they were unwilling. Was this one of those times?

The answer came in a rush that tore through her body and burst in her brain. Oh… yes!

Stapler pulled Mel aside, her shiny dildo sliding out of Bolt’s clinging vagina and she lay sprawled on the floor as Cam was put in her place before Bolt’s blushing mottled bottom and gaping dripping pubes. Swipes of the cane across Cam’s acorn-brown buttocks made her shuffle forward and ram her dildo into its unwilling socket.

Then the cane cracked across Cam’s big nipples, making her breasts bounce. Sobbing, she began to pump away…

Bolt said nothing during lunch and Mel did not want to risk starting an argument in the feeding hall. Her bottom was flushed and mottled with stud marks. In the short break afterwards before afternoon lessons began Mel led them into a corner of the playground.

Bolt glared at them in contempt. ‘You enjoyed screwing me!’

‘No we didn’t…’ Cam began.

‘Let’s admit we did some of it,’ Mel interjected. ‘At least I came. And I’m sorry that doing it hurt you, but you asked for it. If we’d refused Stapler he could have got another girl to screw you or simply given you a thrashing. I think it was better this way. At least you got a little pleasure out of it.’

Bolt reddened. ‘I did not!’

‘I could see you were getting wet.’

‘No fu… flaming way!’

‘I’m sorry but you were,’ Cam said, adding with a blush: ‘I could smell you.’

Bolt bit her lip but did not try to deny it any further. ‘That sort of thing gets you off, does it?’ she countered instead.

‘I think here it does,’ Mel admitted. ‘It’s all simply too close and intimate to pretend. Face it, we’re being manipulated by professionals. We all came on the mats, even you.’ She added quickly: ‘Of course that doesn’t mean you were being weak or you’re a closet lesbian, just that you couldn’t help it. None of us can. But we can make it easier in some ways, like not paying for your bad attitude. You’re still getting us into trouble. I know you’re looking for a way to escape and that’s fine, but meanwhile doesn’t it make sense to pretend you’re being ground down just a little? Maybe it’ll put them of their guard and make escaping easier when you get the chance.’

‘Besides, if you don’t behave better and get good marks we’ll never graduate,’ Cam pointed out. ‘Remember the Headmaster said it was all of us or none.’

‘So what?’ Bolt said. ‘I don’t care if I never graduate. It can’t be worse out there than it is in here. If I show them what a rubbish slave I’d make for long enough maybe they’ll give up on me.’

Mel sighed. She had to admire Bolt’s courage, or at least stubbornness, but she thought of Shackleswell’s hundred and fifty years of practice at breaking in girls like them. ‘I don’t think these people give up that easily.’

The Mechanical Interface classroom was filled with half a dozen strange devices of steel, glass, copper, rubber and brass. Some of them looked antique but all were gleaming and immaculately maintained. Mel, Cam and Bolt gaped at the array of beams, rods, pins and chains uncertainly, while Bobbin, Pin and Axle, who must have seen them before, looked stoically resigned, though they did cast quick glances of anticipation at certain machines. Their MI Master, Mr Vice, explained.

‘In here you will learn how to become as one with machines. In this room your nipples, vaginas and rectums will be put to uses chosen not by nature but by men to serve their greater purpose. Flesh always yields to iron and you will mould your bodies and minds to the requirements of the machines. Serve them well and you will be rewarded, be negligent and you will be punished. That is the natural order in Shackleswell. You will be rotated about the training machines until you are thoroughly familiar with every one and have learned the basic principles of serving as Rowland always intended gynatons should. While you are in this room I do not want to hear a word spoken. The only sounds you are permitted to make, whether of pleasure or pain, must harmonise with the devices you are serving.’

One by one he took them off their collar chains, secured them to their mechanical masters, and explained their functions. In a few minutes the room was filled with the whir of gears, the hiss of water and air through pipes, the clink of chain and the muted gasps and sighs of girls in pain and pleasure.

Mel stood facing a disk-like metal panel rather like a huge clock face as high as she could stretch. Her ankles were chained to its baseplate and her wrists to the ends of a pair of pointers like clock hands. Electric bush contacts under the hands passed over a ring of silver contact studs on the face of the disk, completing a circuit. Silver chains trailing from the hands were clipped to her nipple rings. A rod extended out from the central axel of the machine about which the pointers pivoted. Mounted at a right angle on the end of this rod was a steel phallus, on which she was impaled.

The outer rim of the disk was studded with lamp lenses that lit up in a random sequence of pairs, one on each half of the clock face. If Mel moved the pointer tips round to match with the lamps quickly enough gears within the machine purred, transmitting its vibration through the central rod to the steel phallus. If she did not she got a shock through her nipples. Despite the occasional pain her thighs were soon slick with her juices tease out of her by the hum of a well-tended machine.

As Master Vice had promised, all their orifices were being used to the maximum.

To one side of Mel, Bolt was impaled on a different training device. She stood with hands cuffed behind her and ankles loosely chained astride a vertical lever on a universal mount. Its tip was double pronged and capped by rubber balls, which were lodged up her anus and vagina. As she twisted about the lever moved back and forth, left and right. These movements were conveyed by pivoting rods running under the base of the device to a sprung metal pointer on a hinged mount that hovered over a large horizontal drum turning slowly before her. The surface of the drum was studded with metal balls, blocks and strips, forming a kind of maze. By working the lever Bolt could steer the pointer between the obstacles. It was almost like a crude mechanical predecessor of a video game, a challenge that seemed to appeal to her, despite the penalty for touching one of the obstacles with the pointer. This triggered one of a pair of spring mounted, solenoid activated canes positioned behind her to come swishing down across her buttocks.

Cam, her arms cuffed behind her, was straddling a long length of polished “I” beam raised on trestle legs. This served as a track for a couple of small chassis to run along whose wheels were spring-clamped to the sides and lower flange of the rail. One was wedged between her thighs and supported a vertical anal plug on which she was impaled. In front of that was a sprung arm that carried a larger ribbed rubber wheel with pronged side flanges that ran along the top of the rail. As Cam moved the long soft prongs, pressed inwards by a pair of angled plates, ran through the cleft of her vulva.

The second chassis carried a tray with splayed sides, like the load bucket of a miniature dumper truck. This ran along the track just in front of Cam and was connected to her by a pair of light rods clipped to her nipple rings. At one end of the track was a hopper mounted above the rail filled with large ball bearings. At the other end below the rail was the mouth of a narrow funnel that fed into a storage bin.

Cam pushed the truck under the hopper where it threw a switch to dispense a load of bearings. Then she shuffled backwards, pulling the laden car by her nipples, which drew them out into painful brown cones. As she did so the pronged rubber wheel teased her slot. When she reached the far end she had to position the truck over the mouth of the bin and then twist round, tugging on the nipple rods and distending her breasts, until the bucket of bearings tipped sideways and dumped its contents into the funnel of the bin. Covered by the rattle and rush of the balls she groaned from the pain of her twisted breasts. Then she righted the bucket and went back for another load. After half a dozen trips the rubber wheel turning in her cleft was shiny and the track glistened with her juices.

Bobbin and Pin, with arms cuffed behind their backs, sat astride the ends of what looked at first glance to be a children’s seesaw that both pivoted up and down and rotated about its central mount. However the seats were simply padded hoops, leaving their genitals and bottom clefts bulging through them. Their ankles were linked to the beams of the seesaw by slack chains, allowing them to propel themselves round.

Arrayed in a ring under them were a hundred or more red and blue metal cones, like third-size traffic cones, set out in random stacks on a series of alternating red or blue spots. Their task was to sort the cones into matching colours and set them on the appropriate colour spots. Of course with their hands cuffed they could only move the cones about by impaling their rounded tops in their anus or vagina, gripping and lifting. Their task was made harder by their nipples being linked together by long light chains that passed through a freely rotating ring set on the central axis of the seesaw. If they did not coordinate their actions and bend or turn together they gave each other painful jerks that made their breasts jiggle.

The reward for their efforts came as more of the cones were stacked on their rightful colour spots. Their weight activated pressure plates that via hydraulic links caused slender arms to extend out from the ends of the seesaw beams across the seat hoops. The tips of the rods carried vibrating tips that buzzed as they swung the seesaw round and wiggled as they rocked up and down. The more cones they stacked the deeper the vibrating rods probed their clitorises. The floor under them became marked with a ring of drips. However the stimulation also caused their vaginas and even their anuses to become more slippery and they had to work harder to grip the cones. It became a race to finish before they became incapable of functioning and the strain showed on their faces.

Axle was working a pump, but naturally it was without using her hands, which were cuffed behind her back. She was squatting over the end of a horizontal lever secured within her by an anal plug and clips to her labial rings. The lever was coupled to a man-high iron pillar in front of her. On the top of the pillar was a water-cooler bottle filled with red-tinted water. A tube from the bottom of this bottle ran down to a plastic bucket with a clamp on the end that reduced the flow of water to a steady trickle. The bucket was supported clear of the floor by a pair of light chains that ran over pulley wheels set in the sides of the pillar and then along to a hook onto Axle’s nipple rings. The tension of the empty bucket alone drew them out into sharp points.

She could not bend forward to ease the strain on her nipple chains by resting the bucket on the ground because of an adjustable hinged rod extending from the pillar. This was clipped to the front ring of her collar and held her at a constant distance from the device.

The end of the pump extractor tube sat in the bottom of the bucket where it sucked the water out as long as Axle worked the pump lever, keeping the water level to a minimum. However the discharge tube ran up to the top of the pillar and fed back into the top of the water cooler bottle where the cycle began once again.