Nurse Debi leads the leashed and handcuffed Austin out of the medical building. Once they clear the doors, she motions for them to stop, and releases the cuffs and detaches the leash.

“Better?”

Austin nods. “Yeth, thank you.”

“I imagine, Chloe-Anne, that you have lots of questions about all this. I will try to answer them if I can—without getting punished, of course.”

Austin does have lots of questions, but first and foremost is the hardware in his mouth—

“Nurth Debi, why did they make me get brathes?”

“Yes, that. And you can drop the ‘Nurse’ part, at least when we’re together. The orthodonture is a very sexist thing, and I don’t fully approve of it, but it is purely and solely for the pleasure of men. For, you know … ? The Manor think that getting a blow job from someone with ortho-perfect white teeth enhances the male experience. Kinda sick, if you ask me. But it is the way things are. The braces are also something you can’t remove or escape, and they’re painful, so they also go along with a lot of the common themes here.”

As she says this she jumps, surprised.

“Ouch! I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll have to be more careful!”

“Did you say ‘blow job?’

“Yes. Blow job.”

Austin’s heart sinks, but feels a mildly strong pulse between his legs.

“Crap, please no!”

The pleasurable pulse strengthens.

“Ughhh!”

Austin takes a second to collect his breath and regain his composure.

He continues—

“These clothes—they’re very uncomfortable—not even a real woman would wear this underwear. Ewe! Why?”

“I’m afraid it is part of their way of teaching someone her place. You are a maid. A real maid. There’s nothing fun or sexy about that. Think about it, cleaning toilets, scrubbing floors, vacuuming, all that. They dress you with clothing commensurate with your status.”

“But you said the dress would get better? That I could earn something prettier.”

“It will and you can. But it still needs to be deserved. I mean, who would want to have to look at a maid scurrying around her house dressed like you? So the prettier clothes are for their pleasure, not yours. You have to earn your place in their house, though, first. But you are stuck with the underwear, I’m afraid. For certain while you are here at The Manor, and likely after as well.”

“This underwear is dreadful! The bra is so uncomfortable. The underwires are sticking me and cutting into my skin! And the girdle is too tight, and these panties are tight and full of goo! And I absolutely hate these pantyhose and shoes!”

As he says this, he realizes that he is likely to be punished, and steels himself against the punishment. Instead, he feels a long, intense, pleasurable pulse. Somehow he is finding the discomfort caused by his underwear arousing. He feels slight panic.

“You’ll just have to try to get used to it. I think the choice of underwear is calculated on their part, and intended to be less than pleasant even though they will make the unpleasant aspects of wearing it arousing for you. Again, part of that they want the experience to be.”

“And why am I so sexually desperate? I just need to cum so badly? Everything i wear, feel or smell turns me on. It is awful! And that dentist? Oh god!”

“That’s how they, the Program, break you. You are still able to resist, or at least form the thought of resisting, now. But that will go away. The conditionings are designed to be the worst and most complete for maids—the constant controlled arousal eventually breaks their wills, their minds, and all that is left is obedience. And it will make your slut training even more effective.”

“So that’s what you meant—“by then you really won’t care”?”

“Afraid so. But it could be worse. Think about whether you would rather suck off that dentist now, or later when you don’t care. And as soon as your braces come off you will find his dick shooting off in that pretty little mouth of yours . He didn’t even unstrap me from the chair, can you believe that? He came almost as much as you do, rather, as much as you used to. Talk about yuck! But (dreamily) nasty as it was I did kinda like it.”

“I would rather not have known that—about the dentist, I mean.”

“And who are ‘they’, and what is the Program?”

“I’m not actually sure who ‘they’ are, or even whether ‘they’ really exist. The Program controls so much, and uses very advanced artificial intelligence software and hardware. It is quite merciless. All I know is that once you are collared and chastitied it’s pretty much over.”

“And escape?”

“Just not possible unless you take both the collar and chastity off. And they both have safeguards that prevent removal. Painful, disabling safeguards. And the Program stays with you even when you leave—like forever.”

This is very troubling to Austin.

“But the good part, is that you get to be a slut too. A small compensation, but still … . And I think you are to be a ‘ladies maid’ as well, which is good and may mean better underclothes. Really good, unless the Program subjects you to ‘vaginal aversion therapy’, in which event you will find certain aspects of being a ladies maid to be most unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant?”

“Yes. Vaginal aversion. Very unpleasant.”

“It even sounds unpleasant.”

“Ah—here we are—the cafeteria.”

Debi takes Austin’s hand and leads him in.

She directs Austin to an open table.

“Stay right here—I’ll get us something.”

Debi leaves, and Austin looks around. Pretty girls, at least what look like girls, all collared, are sitting together in small groups at the several tables. Each group of girls is dressed differently, and each girl within a group is dressed in similar fashion. Austin reasons that one group must be maids—a couple of the girls are wearing gray maids’ uniforms identical to his, and the other girls in the group are similarly dressed except for the color of their dresses and the lengths of their skirts. A few are even wearing frilly aprons or pinafores. He reason that they must be the girls who have “earned” the prettier clothing. As this thought develops he feels a nicely pleasurable pulse.

It is the same with what the other girl groups are wearing. The junior girls wearing the least flattering of the uniforms. He finds some of the senior girl uniforms to be rather nice.

Debi returns with a tray from the line.

“Here, I brought us some nice soup. I remember how is was when Dr. Szell first started my ‘treatment’ It was kind of hard to eat. The soup should be okay. And it’s usually pretty good.”

(Whispering.) “And we really cannot continue with your questions while in here.”

Austin nods, and tries his soup—it is quite good. He continues to look around.

“Debi, this girls over there must be maids, but what about the others?”

“Well, the girls at that table (nodding to a table by the wall) in the pastel outfits are all personal service girls—you know, beauticians, nail techs, makeup specialists. They are trained to be very good at what they do, but are otherwise quite vacuous. Their conditionings and psychoactive drug therapies reduce them to pretty much mindless bimbos. And the effects are permanent. You will be training with them the first week, we all do, but without the added conditioning and drug therapy. Interestingly, they tend to be quite slutty and unable to control their sexual compulsions, even without proper slut training—they’re always getting caught making out with each other. The Program must encourage that. But they aren’t as practiced in the slutty ‘arts’ as true sluts are.

“And those over there?”

“Those are the office girls. You can tell by their dress—neat blouses, short skirts, fine stockings and pumps; perfect makeup. And their hair must alway be office proper. They’re slutty too, but in a different way. They’re conditioned to not enjoy sex, rather to feel demeaned by it, but they’re bound to provide it. Just like typing a report or taking dictation, I guess.”

“I guess I’m lucky. I would hate to be one of them. Are there others, not here?

“There are the ‘stable girls,’ who are fed outside. You may be able to see them through that window over there when we leave. And there are some others—I know they’re here because I see them come in and go through the first week or so of indoctrination, but then they disappear. And I’m never allowed full access to their charts, so I’m not sure of what is done with them.”

“And the nurses and sluts? ”

“The nurses are kept in separate quarters and dine there. Since I’m your mentor, I have special privileges and am excused from much of that. As for the sluts, any girl in any group could also be subjected to slut training in addition to her particular, call it ‘vocational,’ training.”

“As it turns out the sluts are pretty highly valued because of their eagerness and receptivity and the pleasure they can provide. They never turn it down and are always enthusiastic about it, even if they have a headache or might be vexed. You should be grateful that you are to become one.”

Austin takes a minute to try to absorb all this.

“Debi, I really and truly didn’t think this place was real. I saw the website, but thought it was all pretend.”

“Take it from me, there’s nothing ‘pretend’ about it. It is very, very real.”

Austin sighs, looking despondent.

She takes his hand and looks into his eyes.

“It will be okay. Sometimes unpleasant, but eventually okay.”

(Clearing her voice and changing the topic.) “Why don’t we take care of the dishes? You don’t want to be late to your salon appointment.”

They clear their dishes, and Austin follows Debi out of the dining area to another building. It has a sign that reads “Salon” on the front door.

“Now for today, they are only going to do a few things to make you more presentable. So there is nothing to be afraid of. Okay?”

“I guess so. I can’t imagine that too many terrible things can happen in a beauty salon,”

“Uh, in this beauty salon they can, and do. But you’re safe for today.”

Austin’s eyes open wide and he swallows hard.

“It’s 2:00 now, and once you are checked in I am going to have to leave you for afternoon rounds. I will be back at 5:00 to pick you up. Can you be a good brave girl for the salon attendants? I promise they won’t hurt you.”

“I think so.”

They approach the reception desk.

“This is Chloe-Anne. She has an appointment.”

The receptionist looks down at the appointment log.

“Yes she does. We’ve been expecting her.”

The receptionist smiles what Austin can only describe as being in a slightly ‘mean’ way.

“Miss, please come with me!”