Chapter 2

After Dinner, all the girls were told to get down on all fours with our butts sticking up. Leonard and Darryl came around and pushed an enema nozzle into our asses and left us to hold it. They even gave one to Strawberry and Cherry in the cage. Their faces were still dripping with sour milk.

It wasn’t entirely unpleasant at first. My stomach quickly began to become distended, and I felt like I was going to poop. Dumpling grabbed my hand and told me to hold it—two by two, we were released into a ground floor bathroom with two showers. The bathroom was grimy and hadn’t been cleaned in years. The shower grates had been removed and were expected to dump the poopy water into the enema. Darryl watched and sent us back to the main hall to do it again. We did it until the water ran clear – it was incredibly embarrassing.

Dumpling laughed and said that at first she thought it was gross. “It saves so much time. You never feel like you need to shit during the day, though. You’ll get used to it, Doll Face.”

That evening the girls were expected to work. I was new, so I didn’t have to work like they did. I assumed they were fucking and sucking guys for money. They put me in a tiny little cubicle in front of a bulky computer webcam. The Internet was a new thing, and I had never used one before.

Guys paid money to watch me play with myself. I didn’t have to type or answer them. All I did was play with my bald pussy, and then occasionally, one would buy a “show,” and I was told to use some of the sex toys nearby to pleasure myself. It was a fascinating way to earn money. I couldn’t believe guys paid to watch me, and I have to admit I was flattered and sickened by what I did.

I lost track of time, but I know the work lasted at least six hours. Ghislaine told me I did well and removed my collar. She showed me how to charge it and told me to have it on in the morning. I assumed it would be on permanently. My thighs were drenched from my own pussy juices, and I was satiated sexually.

I could have tried to escape that first night. I didn’t have any clothes and like Dumpling I had no place to go. I could have tried to get to a payphone and call the police. I assumed though, that they were watching me on my first night. I also assumed I would end up in the cage if they caught me.

The cops would probably bring me back to my parents or the school. I might end up right back here.

Dumpling joined me in our room after a few more hours passed. She had bruises on her thighs, and her makeup ran down her face. She looked a little high. She also looked delighted, like she had thoroughly enjoyed it. I was a little envious. I wanted to be able to turn off my brain and become a bimbo when I felt like being dirty. It seemed like a luxury for a girl who over thinks everything.

That night she passed out on her stomach. I listened to her fart and burp in her sleep. I wasn’t used to sharing a bed, and I found myself laying in a fetal position on a tiny edge of the bed.

That morning Darryl came into our room. The door wasn’t locked, and the lock had been removed. He woke us up by pouring water in our faces and telling us to get our collars and shoes on. He hustled us to the dining room where the stools were. This I came to learn was not only a dining hall but it was also our classroom.

The stools are called “perches,” and students are expected to ride the dildos when they first come in. They hadn’t been cleaned since we used them last night, and I didn’t get to sit on the same one. I realized that there had been used over and over by different girls. No one else seemed grossed about that.

Strawberry and Cherry were still in the cages. They looked for more ragged and worn down. Darryl ignored them.

“My name is Instructor Darryl,” he informed me when I took my seat and began working myself down on the dildo. “You will call me Instructor, Instructor Darryl, or Sir. You will never address me by my first name. Is that understood?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. I was intent on fucking my tight little pussy down on the dildo.

He shocked me and told me to try again.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied and pouted.

“You will comply with all of my instructions. You will learn everything I have to teach. You will do your best and excel. Is that understood, Doll Face?”

“Yes, Sir,” I flinched, half-expecting another shock of the collar.

“Excellent. You look uppity and stuck up. Like you love to sniff your own farts,” he observed. It was incredibly rude. I was offended but nodded and agreed with him.

“I would have named you Fart Sniffer, but I doubt most clients would like that,” Darryl told me. “It is all about the clients. They cum first. Your satisfaction, your pleasure, your needs are irrelevant because you are being paid to perform a service. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied. The nickname Fart Sniffer stuck, and when other girls casually referred to me, that is what they frequently called me.

“I don’t think you do understand, but you will,” he promised. He began the lesson by having us warm up by fucking ourselves on the dildo and playing with our nipples. I have to admit that as schoolwork went, that was kind of fun. I didn’t like being watched and graded, but he was watching all of us.

We spent a long time just fucking ourselves while sitting on stools. No one talked, and some girls looked bored. Darryl walked around inspecting us. He’d offer small comments to smile more or to think dirty thoughts and pinch our butts as he walked around. He didn’t seem all that interested in a room full of 18 teenage girls masturbating. I suppose he saw it every day, and it no longer fascinated him.

“Already, ladies, let’s work your asses off,” he clapped his hands together. There was a collective groan from the room. He told us to stand up, stick our asses out, spit on our hands and rub it on our buttholes. This was my first real experience with anal. The same dildo I had been humping was intended to go up my ass. I sat down on it delicately and grunted.

“Can we start with something smaller, Sir?” I asked. The other girls chuckled at my expense.

“Why? Are the dicks going up your ass going to be smaller?” Darryl demanded.

“I hope so,” I laughed. A few girls laughed with me. I thought it was worth it to make a snarky comment. Darryl disagreed. He pulled me off my stool, bent me over the table, and fucked my asshole like I was a rag doll. He didn’t take his time. He didn’t ease it in. He jammed his dick up my poop chute and plowed me like I was a sex doll to be used and thrown away when he came.

“You could at least buy me dinner, first!” I teased. It wasn’t that bad once he had his cock in my ass. He thrusted and pumped, and all I had to do was ride along with him on his cock.

“Witty!” Darryl noted. “Guys don’t like witty. They like slutty!” he grabbed my tits and mauled my nipples. It felt kind of good to be dominated and taken like this. He was in his twenties, so he was the oldest guy I ever had sex with. The boys my age treated me far more delicately and put me on a pedestal.

As soon as I felt his hot cum escape into my bowels, he pulled out. Then he grabbed me by the hair, spun me around, and pushed my head down on his dirty dick. “Uh, uh, gross!” I tried to pull my head off his dick.

“It isn’t going to clean itself,” he insisted and firmly pulled my head down onto his dick and throat fucked me. I could not talk the same for a week after that. My throat muscles were sore, and I nearly gagged. He made me continue fucking my ass with the dildo after he pulled out. It was a lot easier now that I was loosened up, but it still hurt.

I came to learn that the only way those dildos got cleaned was in between uses. After all the girls finished fucking their asses on the dildo, they bent over and sucked the dildos to the base and cleaned them to the satisfaction of our instructor.

The girls in the cages weren’t immune from training either. Darryl opened the back of the cage and pushed butt plugs into their asses and made them ride dildos in the doggy position – while sucking a dildo constantly. It was pretty humiliating for them.

Most of my “classes” were basically self-masturbation. I came to realize that playing with myself in my room was basically “Homework.” Dumpling explained that since we didn’t have a radio or television – we had to play with the only toys we have. I spent a lot of time openly masturbating in my room.

Every night for the first week, I was taken to a little cubicle where I played with myself on the camera. I think that I was getting better at it with practice. I didn’t get myself off as much as I looked like I was doing something that would get me off. All I needed was something small, silence, and a dark space to close my eyes and fantasize.

Instead, I was in a brightly lit cubicle being watched by countless men. They expected me to change things up. I had a few different sex toys to suck, lick or stick into my ass, mouth, and pussy. I also played with my tits and frequently did different positions for the chatroom. I could read some of what they wrote. Most people were from foreign countries. I hoped no one I used to know was watching me. If they were, I would have been mortified.

Meals were always the same. Junk food and any bad girls were put in the cage to eat like dogs. The cage was sufficient to discourage most girls from misbehaving, though, and it wasn’t always in use.

Occasionally we had a more interesting class during the day. Darryl and Leonard paired off as instructors. They lived on campus, but they were not the only ones who worked there. They were just the ones I interacted with the most.

Some of the classes were about fetishes. These were things I had only heard about in passing. Guys liked watching girls do just about anything intimate or private – including watching us piss and shit. We squatted over a cat box and pretended to be a cat for my first fetish class.

“Okay pussies, let’s hear you meow,” Leonard reminded us. He made pawing motions like an actor in the Broadway show Cats. He reinforced that customers will come at us with all sorts of requests, and just about everything was negotiable. “They pay for a fuck and suck at the door. If they want something weird, then you send them back out to Ghislaine to break it down for them. They’ll decide how much to charge. What do you never, ever do, girls?”

“Give a trick a price,” the girls chanted in unison.

“That’s right. If you do, that is solicitation, and your cherry asses can go to jail. You let Aunt Ghislaine handle the money. What do you do if he offers you a tip?”

“Tell him to give it to Ghislaine, and it will get to me,” the girls answered.

We pretended to be ponies and clip-clopped around the room. We pretended to be puppies and crawled and barked. We also role-played slaves and Masters. Darryl introduced us to floggers, nipple clamps, and all sorts of paddles and cuffs. He showed us how to escape the cuffs they use at the school if we had to get out. “You are in control even though they are the ones in charge,” he insisted.

The thing I excelled at was when he reversed it. This fetish is called “Femdom.” We wore black leather and lace bustier and panties. We paired up with one of us pretending to be the man and the other playing the “Domme.” I was pretty good at spanking and tying up other girls. That wasn’t what I was best known for was put-downs.

“You little worm, does your wife know you are such a little-dicked wimp?”

That was the kind of insult most girls used. I used my comedy skills to be funny but hurtful, and Darryl said that I was a natural domme. I know I look a little stuck up because of my upturned nose. I think it helped the act that I seemed snotty. It was easy to heap humiliation on someone else. I just said what I thought about myself and applied it to men.