"That was rape. When I get out of here, I'll know your number and the authorities can look you up," I told the 792 the next day after a long shower and dressing. We stood waiting for the Mistress, sixteen little maids. Everyone was smug, full of little comments.

"Hell, bitch. I'm winning you again. I'm in love and might even want to marry you. Damn if you aren't the best looking piece of ass I've ever hard," said 792 with a snicker. 334 just glared at me, him still smarting from having had so many spanks and having made such a fuss over it. He'd been the first out of the punishment room too, probably not having understood that we'd all yelled like banshees, making his sense of shame over it seem silly.

We were marched right by our classroom, and then into a small, sterile room that barely accommodated all 16 of us. Let alone, again I was the brunt of hands and cheap feels as we all waited for whatever was in store.

A speaker clicked, and we at first heard only static over a couple of small overhead speakers. ""Yeah, I think she loved it . you ask me. Best she learns to appreciate it, anyway, cause lots more is waiting for a chance at it." "Popped her cherry, guys. Once the bunkhouse whore, always the bunkhouse whore." "I'm winning tomorrow. She ain't seen nothing yet till she meets up with Mister Machinegun." "No way. Me. I'm winning if I have to be pussy maid of the year doing it. I'll prance in the daylight for that dance, you just watch,"" filled the room, not crystal clear, but without breaks and clear enough for us to know that our bunk room had been bugged and all the macho talk had been intentionally brought to our attention.

Then the second room door opened, and there stood that dreaded punishment Mistress in a bit of a five foot square hallway between two doors, the one behind her shut. Nobody knew her name, and it didn't seem to matter; we knew her purpose. I was still numb and burning in spots from the beating the previous day, and imagined my ass unable to take any more, it sore both inside and out.

"In all of my times here at this training facility, I've not once heard such language from bimbo trainees. My first thought was sixteen strokes for the lot of you, and six months on a two foot chain for half of you, whom, I'm sure, would be either willing to confess or soon find themselves well ratted out. But then, no, I told myself, as Mistress of punishment, I have a duty to find a suitable instrument of correction for the specified crime and this one is a shared offense, so why bother singling out a culprit. I have, after all, had some considerable professional training regarding the subject."

"So, one at a time, we will be leading you in and arranging you for instruction. Let me remind you that this is not my first instinct; so consider it leniency because, trust me, I do so very much wish a harsher result."

"Cunt 792, you will be first," she announced, 792 stepping through the first of two doors, and that door shutting in our faces. We heard her scream, "Sissy hands! Purse those lips. Hips! Wiggle, fag! I want you thinking cocks and chocolate. Small steps, you cocksucker cunt!" Then the second door apparently shut, our ears not picking up anything more. I could actually hear stomachs rumbling. Nobody patted my ass, that's for sure. One guy even said, in the weakest whisper I'd heard in some time, his lips literally on my ear, "Sorry about what I said," but of course it wasn't going to do any of us any good, I believed, my dread as high as the next fellow's.

I looked down, getting ready to play my humblest, and saw a couple of those caged up dicks actually so shrunk that I could see air all the way through to the swollen, sperm filled balls. The room smelled of fear, sweat rising, bodies hot with heightened heartbeats and knees knocking.

Everybody went before me, as always, me thinking that the worst possible sign. Then the punishment Mistress came for me, me prancing and pursing enough to earn only a few rebukes to any improbable lingering manhood. The room was bigger than our classroom with three rows of heavy plastic seats. On sixteen of them sat a naked man. These men were different from any I'd seen since arriving at FemWorld. They were big, athletic, and in most cases, quite muscular. Bodybuilder, male whores was my first thought as occupation, but in each case there was an obstruction to a perfect view.

Every one of my classmates sat on the lap of a man each. Their eyes were wide, mouths pursed, and hands held out at the elbows as if still walking around in full maid bimbo prance. The knees of the men they sat upon were almost together, while the sissies had their legs slightly spread. The men behind had their hands on each sissy's tits, holding them up obscenely. Frozen, almost, as they were and symmetrical as well, it looked almost as if they we in some sort of choreographed dance as they sat so stoically and silently and clearly in fear.

I was led down to the last seated stud. He was huge, all of six feet five, and with a dick the size of a fully ripened banana. The cock stood straight up, a marvel of physics, I thought, but then again, it wasn't physics I was worried about when I glanced off to the side and realized that the rest of my classmates were not sitting on a penis of their own. Those penises were buried deep inside of every last one of their asses. The big eyed look of horror on all of their frozen faces was amplified by the shared realization that the whole class was in the process of being buggered by what might be nano enhanced cranks on slave studs.

"Kneel, Cunt 199," instructed the evil Mistress as she handed me a small jar of Vaseline. "Lub him up nicely. Both hands. Quickly! I don't have all day. Careful! Don't damage him; he should enjoy it. This is a stud slave, Cunt. Far more valued than you. Longer strokes now. Get inside the foreskin. OK, most of it off your hands, get the rest off by gently caressing the balls! Come on now, you can do better; you're a bimbo cunt, aren't you? These things are instinctive for whores like you. Want to impress the Mistress. Want to be the best pussy you can be about now, I'm thinking!"

Oh, Goddess, I was lubing up a man's cock, stroking it with two fists, it but a few inches from my face.

"There we go," said the Mistress, taking the jar of Vaseline back.

"Now, around with you and have a seat, Cunt 199. Knees forward and a bit apart. Let's be gentle with the man's penis. Don't be such a stupid whore, bitch. Back up a bit. There we go! Little more. Relax that asshole, slut. There we go. Sit a bit more! Yes, that's what we want to see. No more macho chat, I'm assuming? OK. There we go. All the way down with you. Just relax; it's a nice soft seat for you this morning. Excellent. No talking, eyes forward and all Bambi for me. Purse those lips. Fingers out, lightly. Nice and hypnotic. Think, "I'm such a stupid bitch for finding myself in this position!" No smiles from the studs; I expect professionalism from our FemWorld gigolos. Now, isn't that a picture. Sixteen couples for class today. In fact, I want this for my scrapbook!"

The Mistress took out a camera and after much focus, gave us a couple of flashes, sending our humiliation to the inevitable photo labs. Several other Mistresses then paraded in, all commenting casually to the discipline Mistress about how good she was at herding so many on her own. Indeed, I thought, she is good at making all thirty-two of us into perfect cows. Or, maybe I should say, bulls and cows. A few sat back and smoked, idly chatting as they contented themselves in viewing the scene, us frozen in our Kodak moment. I guess it wasn't the commonly done thing, it a bit of invention for amusement, as more Mistresses came in to observe and make more comments, some about adding it to the curriculum, some bringing in guests whom I imagined might be office staff or visitors. We were quite the show.

The guy I was sitting on was patiently still, clearly disciplined, but I felt his cock fading some inside. Then I had to adjust my seat an unnoticeable fraction, and the cock pulsed upwards another inch. I didn't want that, resigning myself to remain still. The tour went on for maybe fifteen minutes, after which we found ourselves alone with Lillith, Cloe and the Mistress from hell.

Cloe spoke, "Well, sissies, you've found yourselves in an appropriate position, I see. No more macho talk in the dorm room, I imagine you've decided. As for earning a sleep with Cunt 199, you can forget that as well, chastity at all times, I fear you've earned."

"I'm sure that you are curious about today's lessons. They're simple, actually. I'm going to walk behind each of you and tap you on the shoulder one at a time. The sissies will rise five inches, slowly. When I've determined that you are up an even five, I will tap you again and you may resume your seat. The first sissy who has her stud's cock drop out on her, shall be declared the first loser and spend the next six months as a head. I'm sure that none of you want to find out what being a head entails, but I assure you that six months on a chain is considerably less taxing."

"Now, since it can be assumed that the studs you are riding have been specifically selected due to their reluctance to enthusiastically entertain their clients with anything bi when requested to do so for the Mistress's amusement, this should be quite a challenge for all of you macho mouthed sluts. Keep them entertained with womanly wiles, least he shrink at his task. Oh, and one more thing, I do suggest that you not go to the extreme of allowing your man to cum; as this would certainly tend to reduce the stiffy. You may all start a bit of easy, side to side ass work before we start the evaluation at this time."

"Second place loser shall get six months on a two foot chain, and third place loser shall earn six with a cane. The final fourth place loser shall earn sixteen with the strap. Once the losers have been taken away for punishment, the remaining twelve shall spend the day in the kitchens removing tarnish from the silver. Caning and strapping shall be done prompty so that two of your sisters can return to help you. Imagine, only a week into your training and you've as good as lost three of your rank already; not a good start for you. Shall we begin the fucking that I hope will improve your attitudes, sluts?"

"You may say, "Yes, Madam!"

"Yes, Madam," we all said in unison. The simple act of speaking caused my lungs to shift, and thus the cock inside of me as well, all very odd and intrusive.

They gave us all five minutes to do whatever we could with our ass muscles to keep the dicks in us hard, mine having softened some, and then Madam Cloe and Lillith started around the room, going from one pair to the next, having us lift, and then sink. The dicks were large, but we all knew that a flaccid one would be hard to sink onto if it got soft even if none of them shrank to five inches, a minimum number that I was doubting these dicks capable of sinking to.

Just when I thought that, the cock in my ass started shrinking, it seeming like a bit too close to five inches for my taste. The Mistresses were only four down now, and up front, the punishment Mistress waited patiently, as if chomping at the bit to have her head, two foot chainer, caning and strapping playmates as soon as could be had.

Six months as a head? What did that mean? I could see a head, the rest of the body somewhere else. What injustice that would be, me the finest looking woman, sort of, and the brunt of all the rude comments that had landed us all here, and now the man buggering me was shrinking. Worst of all, I'd be out six more months before I had a chance to be bought out from under all of this slavery and humiliation, but saved, by my sister or one of her friends. That'd mean six months and whatever training I got after that, and who knows what else. I had to get to my sister, but all I had to go on was a vague promise that she might work something out in six months, not in twelve.

Just behind my ear I heard him softly chuckle. He was playing with me, I understood, not into ass fucking fags, I could hear his mental wheels singing. If he quit on me, I was doomed. How could he do that to another human being?

I shifted up some, and squeezed my ass as I lifted, massaging his dick. He responded some, but not enough, so I took a chance, a big chance, and grabbed one of his hands, mashing the whole palm up against one of my tits. Then I started a slow, humiliating grind.

"Bitch," I heard him whisper, it no more than the quiet sigh of a breath. But, at least his cock was no longer shrinking, and in fact, rising some.

"What is this?" Declared Madam Cloe as she walked up behind us. Madam Lillith posted just in front.

"Initiative. I suppose that in some things It's proper. The performance of duties, etcetera. After all, this is all about the lesson these maids need to learn about that lingering male ego. Perhaps Cunt 199 is ahead of the game," mused Madam Lillith.

Madam Cloe wasn't completely convinced, sighing a, "Humph," but then tapping my shoulder so I could slowly expose my stud's five inches and then lower myself again. They resumed their rounds. I'd taken a chance at moving from the pose and survived, was all I could think. Others, of course, took my lead and the whole room swayed a bit more, seeming sort of like an orgy in slow motion, which was much less formal at least, but brutal on my ego when I understood that we were all being made to outslut one another. As for the guys, they were handling us all over like our bodies were their playgrounds, and in a few cases the men were going for broke, which we already knew was not what we wanted; no indeed, we wanted to tease, simple as that. It became a struggle, one which took all of our concentration and strength. I, for one, seemed totally concentrated on the every last detail of his cock, as if any sign of pulsing or weakening meant life itself, which, considering what I'd seen so far, might well be the case.

Then it happened. Over in my peripheral vision, 334 lifted, and the dick bent as he sat back down. At first he tried to hide it by sitting on it, but Madam Cloe has him lift back up, revealing the disconnection. She moved on without comment, and in a minute another man found himself lifting on a cock so wet that it was obvious it had cum.

"I believe we have our head and two foot chain candidates. Madam Brothard?" Said Madam Cloe, nodding toward the discipline Mistress. Madam Brothard called for guards, and with the help of the studs behind them, both sissies were helped into waist and ankle chains that had them well hobbled. Obviously the discipline they faced was bad, we not having been chained, but only been asked to stand in line for the dreaded croppings. It all took on a very authoritarian, institutional air, seeing that.

Soon they were gone, and in the heat of the distraction my stud's penis had shrunk quite a bit. I'd held off, knowing he'd numb up if I worked him too hard, so I picked up my pace, and soon had a boner in me that I could live with. Just in time too, as Madams Cloe and Lillith resumed.

Fortunate for me, the next two fell, and I'd bit the bullet. That afternoon I was actually happy to be sitting at a long metal table and shining silver. Sure, I'd been made to be an ass pillow twice in less than a day, but with the announcement of me as no longer the bed prize, and the setting of so many of my fellow sluts into their place, I felt somewhat liberated to get on with the serious work of pure survival.