by Alan Horn
I examined the machine. In its center was a section that looked like the front of a girl. There were depressions for breasts with holes in the middle for the nipples to poke through. The lower face was exposed and also the groin.
He came back with a wooden box. He said, "These are your bonds. I'll put them in the machine. He inserted four small and one large steel plate into slots in the machine. He showed me one that was midway in size between the others.
It was wide, gleaming silver, a single flat piece of steel.. It had a thick staple welded to the center with a large, thick steel ring. There were words engraved around the staple. 'EMMA -Property of Royal Correctional Service-£1,000 Reward -Return to any Police Station.' I read them with helpless resignation. None of my associates would be able to remove it. Cold steel defeated education and words. No man who could remove it would want to remove it. Once on me, it would be forever.
The smith said, "this will be your collar. all your bonds are permanent." I looked at it with mixed emotions. Collar. There was so much meaning in that word. Owned, controlled. For me it meant 'Property of John Travis.' I felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Fear. Joy that there would never be any doubt of my nature. Relief John Travis would own me, take care of me. For some reason I felt safe with him. Acceptance that escape was even less likely. Resignation that I had no choice. Anyone who saw the collar would turn me in and there was no way I could remove the collar without a smith's help.
I stared at my collar. I knew that, by itself, it would change my life forever. It was thick and solid. I would wear it for the rest of my life. It would define me as slave. It told the world that I was not exactly human, more of a pet who could understand and had to obey. It said I made no choices, had no opinions, could never be trusted to do the right thing. I would never again be able to argue a point, convince anyone of anything. I would become no more listened to than a chair. I hated the loss of freedom, the loss of choices. I would be owned, OWNED. I would be seen as an untrustworthy slave or pet who would wander if not chained. It was shaming. My friends and associates could never again view me with respect or confidence.
Yet, I wanted to wear it. I longed for its to grasp my neck. But I wanted my master's name on it. I wanted it to say ,Emma - Property of John Travis. Return me to him if found.' It was my dream come true. I knew I was a slave and I wanted a master to own me. The collar befitted me. I was a natural slave and should be collared.
He inserted the collar into the machine. He pulled a chain out of the machine and locked it around my neck. He removed my collar and cuffs. He threw a lever and the chain around my neck pulled me into the heart of the machine. He strapped my arms and legs into depressions More straps encircled my head and chest. I couldn't see anything and I was strapped in place. My breasts were in smooth depressions and I could feel cool air on my nipples. My knees were spread wide and my feet about shoulder width apart. I was expectant. I wanted it to be over and hasten my delivery to my master. I had fretted long enough. It was time for me to submit to him.
He started the machine. I could feel the metal bands closing around my wrists, ankles, waist and neck. When they felt snug there was a series of loud sounds. Then silence.
I felt hands moving on my nipples and labia. Invisible fingers stroked my nipples and clit until they grew rigid. My now independent nipples swelled. Standing rigid at attention before my heaving breasts, ready to be forever changed.
They applied a cool liquid to my rock hard nipples and I felt a needle pierce them. They stung more than hurt. I felt the rings inserted. If asked, I would not have given consent to be pierced and ringed. My opinions were not ever going to be sought again.. I had lost any right to my body. It was owned by another. I didn't even know who yet. I could only gasp and moan as my flesh was pierced. I heard the clicking as their internal locks engaged. My ears were done next. They didn't hurt much. The rings were just as heavy as those in my nipples.
I didn't want to be pierced, but my masters didn't care. I was only a slave and if they thought I needed rings, I would get rings.
I screamed as they pierced my clit hood. I sobbed as they locked the ring within my secret place and my labia lips received similar rings.
I was helpless to do anything about the things being done to me. I wondered if they would make me more attractive to my new Master. I hoped the Doctor knew what he was doing. Someone applied a lotion to each of my new rings and rotated them within my flesh. He did not say anything. Neither did I. They were handling me and I wanted their care. I was so helpless!
The nose hurt a lot. After the piercing something cold and large slipped into both nostrils. I felt my septum being squeezed. There was a snap and the large things withdrew, but the pressure remained. A grommet was placed in my septum. The ring going there was not just for ornamentation. Damn. My nose was going to be used for a leash or fastening me, or both. Damn. More fumbling and I felt the rings inserted in my flesh, one at a time. Immediately after the ring insertion, I could feel and hear the clicks as the locks engaged.
One at a time my hands were unstrapped then locked to the belt, behind my back. Then I was unstrapped and backed out of the machine. I was fixed but good. My ankles were chained together. I had steel bands around my neck, waist, and wrists. All the bands had sturdy attachment rings. My collar had a short chain hanging from the back ring. The waist band, call it a steel belt was tight, not snug and had eight rings. And I was ringed. Eight large, heavy, gold rings dangling from my flesh. The ring in my nose was way too big and it bore a thin chain that ended a foot above the floor. It was a leash. A permanent leash. Double damn. Whoever held it had total control over me. I was helpless.
My chains were put on me in no time at all. A man took my leash and led me around the room. Walking was a challenge. He stopped me in front of a full length mirror. I looked at my image. I studied myself from my shackles up to my nose ring and leash. I looked like a slavegirl. I was beautiful. I supposed all slavegirls were beautiful in their helpless nudity. I know I thought Ingrid and Addie to be so. I was a vision of helpless femininity. I was naked and ripe for plucking. I could only hope my master would like me and be good to me. It was certain I had no choice but to be obedient . I would try to be pleasing. I hoped my master liked intelligent women.
Now I felt like a slave. The brand was just an ornament. These shackles reduced my freedom. No longer could I run or kick or take the stride my body wanted. Now my steps were limited by men. Even the longest dress could not hide the clatter of my chain as I walked with my short rapid steps. I had to learn how to walk with grace all over again. I was clumsy and my confidence was shattered anew with each snubbed step. These shackles were permanent. There was no key. Only a smith could free me. No man would ever want me free to run or kick. No woman would ever be able to free me. I would wear these shaming, limiting, clanking symbols of my slavery forever. I guess it was reasonable. Slaves must be hobbled or they might run away. Yet they prevented nothing important. I could walk, spread my legs for men, kneel to my masters. But they made me humble. I could never look a free woman in the eye again.
I stood there for minutes just feeling my irons and rings. I was enslaved but also I was feeling new sensations. The snug grasp of the steel on my limbs and throat. I was still, just breathing. Even then I could feel the heavy rings moving in my flesh. I was getting aroused. I didn't know whether it was the barbarous piercing's movement that was stimulating me. It could also have been the sight of my helpless body and my ready availability to any man who wanted me. Maybe too, it was my submissive feelings stimulating me. Maybe it was feeling men putting steel on and in me that aroused me so. I suspected I was a natural slave, that all women were natural slaves and just hid it well.. I didn't care. I just wanted a John Travis to take me and fuck me silly. Feeling my arousal building, I looked anew at my collar. It was beautiful and was perfect on me. It was exactly right for me, his slave.
One of the men unlocked my wrists from the belt and relocked them high on
my back to the dangling chain. It was a strain on my shoulders and arms. I hoped someone would fasten them lower soon.
Chapter 12 -Property
The doctor removed my gag, took my leash, and led me out of the workshop and down a corridor. I had never walked with chained ankles before. I kept trying to take too long a step and had it jerked to a stop several inches shy of my natural stride. The Doctor shortened his stride to match mine. He said, “practice helps.”
“Tomorrow your training begins. Remember to kneel unless ordered otherwise.”
"Yes, master."
He led me into a vacant cell. I was alone. He locked my leash to a ring in the wall and looked at me. I stood there, uncertain about what to do and saw the Doctor was frowning and holding his whip. I immediately dropped to my knees and spread my knees wide. I felt secure and comfortable. I was also dripping love juices from my cunt and my churning belly. I wanted to beg him to take me, but I feared he would punish me.
He said, "Good. Stay like that. Your friends will join you shortly." He left and locked the barred cell door behind him.
I stayed like that. Obedient, meek, slave. I had lost all dignity and resistance. I was humbled, broken. I was a slave and I accepted it. I knew my hopes and dreams of equality had ended. For me and likely for all women.
One by one, all nine other action group members were led in and their leashes locked to wall rings. All were fixed identical to me. Complete helplessness. None were gagged so we all commiserated about our treatment. Some of us liked their rings, including me. Most didn't. None of us could see anything we could do. Another hunger strike wasn't going to work since we lost all our rights. Most of us had read how slavegirls were punished in the East and none of us wanted to chance it.
Two men came for us. One stood in the cell doorway. The other unlocked a leash from the wall and locked it to another girls collar. He continued until we were all fastened together by our nose leashes. He handed the first girl's leash, mine, to the man in the door. He led our chain of linked girls away. He walked slowly to accommodate our hobbles.
He led us down a flight of stairs then into a long, wide hallway. We walked along it for some distance. I saw buckets spaced out against one wall. I saw there were rings on the wall, one above another with a short chain hanging down from the top ring. These were also spaced out along the wall, between but near the buckets.
The man following us called a halt and we stopped. After a short time he told us to go on. Four steps then we stopped again. We continued on in this fashion until just past the middle of the hall we stopped again. This time I felt Ingrid's leash being removed from my collar. I was led on and my leash was locked to the last short wall chain. I looked back the way we had come and saw all the other girls were attached to the wall.
The men walked away without a word.
I stood there in amazement, “What now,” I thought. “Is something going to happen here? I looked around and took a tentative step away from the wall. I could only cover half the width of the hall before my chain grew taut. I saw there was another ring bolted to the wall under the one where my chain fastened, near the floor. Each girl had a waste bucket with a lid. Between each station, hanging on the wall, out of their reach, were several objects. a couple of whips of different lengths, and a box. I couldn't see inside it. I didn't like the look of the whips, but there was nothing I could do about them. I shrugged and knelt.
Time dragged on. Most of the girls knelt on the floor. I would have liked to sit, but the masters forbade that. Slave girls must learn patience, for the masters looked after their own needs, not ours.
A few times, a man would walk down the hall, on some errand or business of their own. All the girls would jump to a kneeling display position to avoid a whipping for disrespect. Usually they would walk down the line of chained women looking them over. Sometimes the passerby would stop and command a girl to a different position. If they did this they would touch or rub the girl. The third person to look at us, a man, stopped in front of me and said, “Arch your back. Thrust out your breasts. Stand up.” He took one of the whips from the wall and said, “Spread your legs and bend over."
I knew I was going to be punished and was terrified, but knew if I didn't obey, it would be worse. I bent over and felt the terrible pain as he whipped my upraised buttocks, hard. I squealed. My body jumped but I forced my feet to stay frozen. I received two more stinging lashes, then after a long pause, he said, "Kneel." I dropped to my knees, careful to get them as far apart as possible. I pushed my breasts at him and kept my head erect. He replaced the whip and walked on without another word.
There was no privacy. We resided in a well used corridor, naked and chained. We each had a waste bucket but everyone could see and hear its use.
Hours later a group of men appeared. They brought a cart down the hall with them. We all got into kneeling display position with our backs up against the wall. They stopped the cart in front of the first girl. We learned about sanitation in the hall. We all received butt plugs. They were locked in us. Even our bodily functions were under tight control.
One man, in the middle of the hall spoke, “I am Master John. You are all slaves about to begin your training. I am the chief trainer. These men are your trainers. We will train you to be the most beautiful, happy, obedient and pleasing slaves in the world. Our methods are harsh and exacting because it works. When your training is complete you will be beautiful, arousing, and pleasing girls. You will love what you have become. You will be slave girls.
He went on like this for a few minutes. We learned which whips would be used on different parts of our bodies. The only part I remember is when he said, "We are going to help you unlock your true selves. You will experience the sensuous pleasures already in your bodies and minds. These trainers will use the whip and sex to reconnect you with your deepest emotions. When we finish, you will feel complete and natural."
He also told us about disobedience and punishment, "We have a few rules you must follow. First is instant obedience to your trainers. If you break a rule, you will be corrected. We have found that instant punishment for transgressions works best. Disobedience earns you five strokes. Breaking a rule gets you three. We will whip you when we want too. Everyone enjoys watching and hearing a girl dance to their whip. You can see the whips hanging on the wall. The long one is for your back and ass and thighs. The short one is for your breasts. If you protest the punishment it will double. We have a solitary confinement cell, we have small cages, there are individual cells. And there are punitive restraints. You will not like any of them. Also, any free person may punish you whenever they like, and they will do it often because it pleases them. After you have been here a while, you will enjoy being whipped, believe it or not.”
I suspect he has his speech memorized. I think this is not the first group of new slaves he has trained. I hope he does a good job. Finally they left us there, kneeling in rapt attention to a blank wall.
I had an invader locked in my ass. I felt full, like I had to go. I felt chagrined at the loss of another bit of control I had retained until now. I was being unreasonable if I expected to keep control over anything, I realized. I wanted to scream that it was unfair, but realized it would earn me punishment. And, I thought, I am now their property and they can do whatever they want with me. I was impotent. Total control. As I thought about my absolute loss of control I realized I was getting aroused. I was shocked at the submissive lust heating my belly. I wanted to kneel at my master's feet, lick his boots and beg him to take me now. But he wasn't there. I got even more aroused at this thought.
We slept naked on our pads, no blankets were provided. We didn't need them. It was warm in the hall. were not given any covering for the night. We were allowed to talk to each other and anyone who walked down the hall. The trainers turned the lights down for sleeping, but not off. A trainer watched us and ordered us to not make any noise.
I was loquacious, like most women. I prided myself on my elocution and b
road vocabulary. I had traveled in Europe and had a good command of Italian, German, and French. But now I was a naked, chained slavegirl. I was subject to the whip whenever any free person wanted to see me dance or hear me scream. Whenever a man walked down the hall, he would inspect all of us. Sometimes he would talk and sometimes correct one of our postures with one of the ever present whips.
I was lost in the past, staring at the wall. I was kneeling with me knees spread as wide as possible. I had arched my back and stuck my breasts out as far as I could. I had a fixed smile on my face. But my mind had wandered into the forest of maybes and should'ves. I realized with a start that there was a man standing in front of me.
"Good day, master."
"Good day, Emma. What is your full name?"
"Master, I was named Emmaline Pankour."
"Oh, yes. You were the leader of the suffragist arsonists, weren't you?
"Yes, Master."
"Why did you do it, Emma?"
"Master, I was trying to help women reach equality with men."
"Why do you think women should be equal?"
"Master, I was not working for physical or sexual equality. I was trying to help all the women without men make enough money to feed their children."
"Really. The equal pay act was passed ten years ago. Didn't you want men to give women the right to vote?"
"Yes, master, I did."
"So, you also wanted to make women equal in political power to men."
"Yes, master, I did."
"Now that you are enslaved, do you still want equal power to men?"Boy, this was a tough spot. If he didn't like my answer, he could whip me until I bled. "Master, I'm not sure, now." That was the best I could come up with. A temporization? But what did I feel? "Master, I want a master, now, but I'm unsure whether that will be true for other women."
