A Different Kind Of School, Part 2

[ m, slavery ]

by Dirt

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Published: 21-Apr-2012

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This work is Copyrighted to the author. All people and events in this story are entirely fictitious.

I smiled as a not so tiny electric jolt in my rectum informed me to pay attention. And I saw I was not the only one with their thoughts momentarily elsewhere.

The atmosphere was tense. I didn't know what to expect. But what happened first had me surprised. Two clothed instructors and a technician slave (I wondered to whom he belonged), carting a huge bin on a gav-sled, entered the front of the monitor room.

The lead instructor took a slightly elevated platform and addressed the class. The sleep room had a total of 50 pallets, so I was surprised to see that not all of my class were there. One of my neural implants had directed me to this room. (Many of the other ones we've been told were for aids during difficult instructions, and even during punishments).

I expect we were separated into a couple of groups. And now seeing actual instructors had me intrigued. So much of my regular education up to now had been done by remote computer stations.

Another small rectal jolt and I was again reminded to give my complete attention. (Strangely, the only reason I hated having been so prompted was I felt that I may have disappointed someone who will later be evaluating my performance and dedication. The actual idea of beings punished that way only aroused me further).

The lead instructors introduced himself and began:

"I welcome you all to the finest slave school in this hemisphere. This school has enjoyed a great and honored tradition dating all the way back to when the Consensual Slavery Laws were passed. You have all been tested and screened. We are certain that every single one of your, given enough dedicated effort, will successfully complete this course. However, only about half of you will become slaves. To learn what we have to teach is not enough. What will have you succeed in becoming a true slave is to somehow find within yourselves a total willingness to abandon all your former desires and totally dedicate your full effort on only considering your prospective master's will. You who are true slave material will find yourselves thrilled by this prospect instead of being dismayed; those of you who derive their primary sexual arousal by loosing all control over your own bodies. Over you own desires. Over your own futures. A true slave derives his best sexual response wh en he knows that it is totally at the discretion of his master. All these things can not be taught. They already have to be within you. If there are any of you here who are not at this moment generally thrilled, both emotionally and sexually, at this prospect of giving your entire selves to another, then nothing we can teach you will make you a proper slave. What we teach will only be your tools. You must be the tool wielder."

My penis was stretching the fabric of my brief to the extreme. I was also so emotionally charged by this opening speech that I required another rectal jolt to remind me to keep a proper focus.

The instructor continued. "I would ask a question." He looked over the assembled prospective slaves. "Number 16 stand at attention."

I was being directly addressed. I stood with my hands clasped behind me and my feet together. Removing myself from the butt plug, which had expanded somewhat as I had sat, required a bit of effort. I was very nervous and had difficulty sanding still.

"Number 16, class, is only 14 years of age, yet he believes he can become a good slave. Number 16, what do you believe makes you so special that you can succeed where others might fail?"

I was totally at a loss. But decided it didn't matter. I WAS going to be a good slave. That's all that mattered. "Master, I do not know. I will just give myself to my master and do my best."

I never did find out if that answer was adequate. But before we even got started on our first lessons of fucking and sucking, we each in turn were instructed to present ourselves to the slave who brought out all the necessary equipment, and were fitted with our temporary chastity devices.

"You will wear this at all times except when bathing and when otherwise directed," he admonished. "In each of these situations, either an instructor, or an assistant, will remove the device and later reinstall you in it. You will note there is a lock. This is NOT to presume that you have not the will power to resist taking it off. But it is for your benefit. The idea of being locked up, gives the slave that much more sexual arousal and thus motivation. Furthermore, from this point on you must consider your bodies, and especially all erogenous zones on those bodies, the property of your prospective masters. Therefore, any contact with your hand and any of these erogenous zones will be severely punished. This is a class one offense. As stated in your electronic manuals, the first punishment for a class one offense is 20 strokes of the heavy tawse. For the second, twenty strokes of the medium cane, and hand imprisonment for 1 week. For the third, it will be at the r ecommendation of the lead instructor. Note, if in conjunction with other failures up to that time, even expulsion could be a consequence."

I was sure that no one would be contemplating anything but an accidental failure. I was very impressed by the idea of keeping my body for my future master.

As I approached the stage I was so excited as I realized what was about to happen. As my brief was removed my boner stuck out hard as a poker. I was a bit envious as I looked at the boners on the other boys but realized that heck, I was only 14 after all. But I liked the form of my now four and a half inches. And it went pretty well with my much smaller body. And besides. It really mattered only how my future master regarded my genitals. Or should I think of them now as his? I also noted that even our briefs were not being returned for the remainder of the class. Most of our future instructions will be carried out while naked. I was fantasizing about the prospect of never wearing clothes again. Though up to my new master, and largely depending on my exact role as his slave, I realized that this was not a profitable musing.

The boy in front started giggling as the tech slave pulled him closer by grabbing him around his cute butt and by his engaged penis at the same time. I suspect a perk of his job. I was totally mesmerized as the chastity device was quickly attached. Then it was my turn. The device was not too complicated even though it also doubled as a prompting device, and if warranted, a punishment device. The first thing though was a small puff of a spray directed at my nose which I was instructed to inhale. I couldn't figure out what that was for since I could feel no discernable effect. But I quickly found out. I too was then manhandled into the proper position by my penis and butt and this normally would have been enough to cause me to orgasm given my current state of dripping arousal. It obviously stopped that from happening. Next a small hollow polyvinyl tube, along with its nearly invisible sensors and stimulation nodes, was inserted the full depth into my penis. I was so glad for its special surface that allowed for nearly painless insertion. Then another puff of a different spray. Instant wilting. I simply could not believe how small my penis got. I looked around to see if anyone was watching and was instantly touched from behind on my now naked butt by a small strap. More painful to my feelings than my skin. Since I was not instructed to do anything else, I merely stood still.

"Good boy. You are learning." It was the younger of the two instructors, who had been standing behind me. "You will eventually learn to await for a command before you make any purposeful movement. This idea is necessarily vague but you will gradually understand by experience."

I was happy by his encouraging remark.

Next, the slave temporarily removed the minute neural sensor at the base of my scrotum. It was barely the size of a mini-bot chip.

"Boy, because of the rubbing of the chastity device at this spot, I will inject a more permanent neural sensor directly into your testicles."

Suddenly overcome by fear, I used a lot of reserve will-power not to flinch as he stuck a pen shaped instrument next to my left testicle. Pfft, and it was over. Then the right testicle. There was almost no pain. My body was monitored by more than 10 neural sensors at all times, situated mostly in various erogenous zones. These will totally monitor exactly how we were reacting, especially sexually and emotionally, to the other stimuli to which we were being subjected. From now on I will no longer be able to touch these places. During month seven, neural sensors will even be permanently attached to our frontal cortex, but only after we have been assured of graduation. These cortical monitors will enable our future masters to monitor our immediate conscious cognitive brain function at all times, if they so desired.

The tech slave explained: "I have an a degree in the field of chemical and neural monitoring of sexual arousal and stimulation. In fact I designed this particular probe myself. This rod contains neural and chemical monitors and will report any change in your sexual response. There are also nodes that an give your penis quite a jolt." He smiled as he said that. I looked at his penis and noticed that he too was in a chastity device, even if much more elaborate. One thing though was the same -- the very end of a similar rod was sticking out of his penis slit. I was trying to estimate the length of that rod when he added: "All this monitoring is for your own benefit and should give you a good sense of security."

And I sure was going to be one well monitored boy. This was done so that future training can be better tailored to suite individual needs. As I said earlier, this was the best school of its kind in the hemisphere. This slave I would later discover, had received the one of the prestigious Hawking Awards for his breakthrough research into mechano-bio interfaces.

Next, a SMALL tube was fitted over my penis. The tube sticking out of my urethra fitted nicely into the top hole allowing about a half inch to emerge. The interior tube I could now feel well into my penis and even under my scrotum. While this thing was installed, my penis would be forced to point outward. The back portion of this outer tube, which appeared to have two curved wings above the back portion of my penis, was then simply folded downward until the two sides met below my penis. This left a small opening through which the root of my scrotal sac fit. I could not see any seam -- only clear tube. The hole around the top portion of my scrotal sac immediately below my penis felt very tight but fortunately not too uncomfortable. Later, when that spray wore off, I was driven totally insane for days until I got at least somewhat used to the ever present need for, coupled with the impossibility of, erecting. (The above exaggeration is not a great one).

I could see some really silly grins on the boy's who were momentarily walking around with their 'small' penises pointing outward. After the class was fitted, we were instructed to go back to our seats. The re-penetration of that butt plug insured all of us that these chastity devices were not meant to be exactly fun. But I eventually not only learned to coexist with the thing, but to even consider it one more way in which I could express my dedication to my future master.

The remainder of the five hour class was taken up by instruction in very basic sucking technique. Of course this day was we barely got past just being able to swallow the training devices. A number of the students, myself included, were very grateful we were doing this on empty stomachs. It wasn't until the end of the period when I was finally able to overcome my gag reflex. And I suspect if not for the advanced design of the penile devices that were forced into our mouths, it would have even taken longer. The device consisted of a variable tube, textured exactly to have the feel and flex of an engorged penis, at the base of which was a remote that transmitted sensor readings from the entire surface of the penile projection. From our own touch-pad screens we could instantly see all kinds of transmitted data, including the most probably arousal effect of what we were doing with different portions of our mouths, tongue, and even teeth. (This reminded me that on rare occ asions, a slave's master has required the removal of all his slave's teeth. I wondered what that would feel like). Our touch pad monitors also listed instructions on possible improvements. I was almost crying after a couple hours with my inability to actually swallow the thing. Therefore, I was quite grateful throughout the period, of the genuine concern and encouragement I received from actual hands-on tutoring from the two live instructors. It wasn't just the coaching in our technique, but also the comfort they gave by their touches and hugs. I had never even gotten that much attention from my own parents since I was 11. (Ok, another probable exaggeration, but it was great nonetheless).

At some made good improvements in technique a few of the boys were even rewarded by the taste of 'cum' coming from the holes at the ends of the training devices. Since I had not progressed that far, I would have to be content with our afternoon meal which would be served soon after this class was finished. This would come at mid-afternoon. (I would not be one of the service staff for this first meal of the day until the end of the week). After there was a period of rest of one half hour. After the rest period, during which we would probably NOT be resting since were free to interact with each other, we would have a structured period of recreation. Today, this was to be a game of soccer. No one, except on the doctor's recommendation, was allowed to merely be a bystander. I was thinking that everyone would soon become aware of my meager athletic ability. But I was soon to learn that most stressed was support of each other and teamwork. In fact, much more praise was given for helping someone else than for athletic success. For the first time in my life, (Ok another exaggeration), I thoroughly enjoyed a team sport. Of course it helped by seeing all those near naked bodies, and waving penises, as we all ran up-and-down the field. We were given well supported shoes for the duration. Later that evening, just after our second and last meal of the day, as myself and three other boys were 'comparing notes' we all agreed that to attend this this had been the best decision of our young lives.

An hour later, after all electronic media equipment was turned off, and the lights dimmed, I couldn't help thinking that at that moment I was one of the most fortunate boys alive. So I was quite jarred out of my so comfortable revelry when, just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard barely audible, but distinct crying coming from the mat next to me. I felt suddenly very concerned. Just as I was leaning over to see what the boy's problem was (we were allowed to speak even after lights-out if we deemed it important enough), one of the dorm monitors came to the boy's pallet from the other side. This one was one of the nearly naked slave-instructors. I later learned that he was the slave-partner of the younger instructor we had during the day's instruction. I also learned that he too had a degree. This was in slave-master psychology.

It turned out that the boy was so upset because he had just learned that his mother had been in a severe accident. And he had not spoken to her except by remote holo-console. I was motioned over by the dorm monitor, and together we found out what was happening.

After he started speaking about a flying accident her mother had been involved in the night before, he explained that the air-ball-safety-envelope, that instantly surrounded and allowed all passengers to survive any possible air crash completely unscathed, had partially malfunctioned. She was the only injured person in the 390 passenger manifest. I was surprised at the accident. I only remembered one other public air carrier accident.

But as the slave was trying to assuage the boy's feelings, the boy suddenly stated that we misunderstood. He knew his mother, though seriously injured, would be OK; he wasn't upset by that so much. And though he so wanted to be there for his mother that wasn't the problem either.

He continued: "No it's not that! In fact the school had agreed to let me fly to the hospital this morning if I deemed it important enough. But she convinced my first few days, and especially the very first day of training here, would be so special for me, she couldn't ask me to miss them. She kept thinking about me instead of herself. She loves me so much!"

I was allowed to sleep with this boy for the night. As I was dozing off, with the boy's arms wrapped around me, I distinctly heard him whisper: "I hope I will learn how to care for my future master as mush as my Mom cares for me."

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