BDSM Boot Camp · Bound 3 · Part 1 (1/2)
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Chapter Five: Processing In
As Sarge walked up onto the small porch of the processing shed, he shouted, “About face!” After a moment of confusion on the part of a couple of the recruits, he added, “That means turn around and face the other way.” It was obvious one recruit was still unsure of which way to turn, so he shouted angrily, “That means turn around and look at me!”
All of the recruits were now facing the processing shed.
“You are going to enter one at a time,” he said in his normal gravelly voice. “I will tell you when to enter by pointing at you. Do you understand that?”
“Sir! Yes, Sir, we understand, Sarge,” the recruits shouted out. JJ noted that Marcie seemed to be the one who was leading the response.
“When you get inside, you will take a seat on one of the barber stools– the empty one. After you get your hair trimmed and are properly marked and implanted, you will take a seat on one of the cleaning saddles– they should feel familiar to some of you. The cleaning saddles will go through four cycles. When it is done, you will walk through the delousing and shower area. That will bring you to the back door. You go through that door and walk across to Barracks S where you will re-form in a line exactly like this one except you will be facing out. Do you understand that?”
This time, the cry of “Sir! Yes, Sir, we understand, Sarge,” was a little more automatic. Several voices besides Marcie’s led the response.
Sarge pointed to the first two recruits, and they walked into the processing shed.
“What do you think will happen to us in there?” JJ whispered nervously to Marcie.
“Exactly what Sarge said would happen,” Marcie replied flatly.
“But what are those cleaning saddles going to do to us?” JJ whined. “I’m afraid,” she added, still whining.
“Think about it,” Marcie said. A slight touch of anger showed in her voice. “What kind of saddle would already be familiar to you?”
JJ screwed up her face as she tried to understand what Marcie was telling her. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she said, “Oh! Those saddles … like on the bus.”
“Exactly,” replied Marcie, “except I think the two dildos will somehow pump something into us to clean us out.”
“Oh,” JJ said again. Her eyes were still wide, but now with fear.
“Don’t worry about it,” Marcie said. “It is still your choice. You can choose to get out of line and go over to the hitching rail, or you can choose to go through that door and impale yourself on that cleaning saddle. The choice is yours.” Her voice became firm, almost hard, as she added, “And as long as you have a choice, YOU are in control. Do you understand that?”
“Ma’am! Yes, Ma’am, Marcie,” JJ answered loudly, snapping to attention as she spoke.
Sarge stretched himself slightly to the side so he could see who had spoken. Marcie met his eyes as if expecting him to say something. Instead, Sarge merely smiled at her and nodded his head.
The line moved at a relatively good pace, and soon Marcie and JJ were near the front. Sarge was standing so that he could see into the shed through the door. Whenever someone stood up from the barber stool and walked over toward the saddles, he would point at the next recruit in the line. Marcie noticed that when they got to the front of the line, Sarge waited until both stools were empty before pointing first to her and then to JJ. He again smiled at her as they entered the shed.
The barber stools sat toward the back of small, round platforms with two steps on the front. The stools themselves were actually very short. They looked almost like milking stools from days gone by, but seemed even shorter than that. The result was that when you sat on the stool, you were almost squatting, and it was impossible to keep your legs together.
A photographer stood in front of each stool. As the barber set the trimmers against the front of each recruit’s head, they would pause so the photographers could begin taking pictures. The first pass of the trimmer was always straight down the middle of the head, dividing the hair and leaving a grotesque stripe of scalp visible in the center. The barber would then pause again so the photographer could record that humiliating image.
The rest of the hair was quickly removed. The barber then held the recruit in place and turned her or his head toward the camera for one final image. That final picture, in most cases, included tears streaming down the recruit’s face.
The barber then stepped away and a young man in a white lab coat stepped up to Marcie. “We will be using a local anesthetic,” he said, “but this will still hurt slightly.”
He stuck a small needle in her arm and injected something. Then he wiped her arm with a smelly mixture and stuck her with a very large needle. After he withdrew it, he put a circular bandage over the puncture and said, “Tracking chip in place.”
He stepped over to JJ and a young woman in a similar white lab coat stepped up. “You requested that you be called by your first name. Is that right?”
“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am,” Marcie answered.
The woman then held up something that looked somewhat like the hand scanners that were used in checkout lines. She held it against Marcie’s left shoulder and pressed a button. There was a soft, sputtering hum as the device vibrated against Marcie’s flesh. The woman then held it over Marcie’s right breast, and it repeated its humming.
The woman smiled at Marcie and said, “Inkjet printer… permanent ink.”
Marcie looked down. Above her right breast, it now said “slut marcie.” She assumed it said the same on her left shoulder. But when she looked over at JJ, she could see that on her left shoulder was a bar code. Beneath the bar code, in very small type, she could barely read, it said “slut jj”.
As they stepped down off of the platforms, a tall, deeply tanned woman wearing only a leather-looking bikini bottom, said, “This way, sluts,” and pointed toward an opening in a short wall that separated the barber area from the cleansing area. The wall was only about four feet high, so they could see about a half dozen sluts apparently seated on the other side. One of the women was repeating, “Oh, no. Oh, no. Make it stop. Make it stop.”
When Marcie and JJ went through the doorway, they could see five women were strapped in place on posts and bicycle saddles similar to what had been in the bus. Two similar saddles awaited them. There was an eighth saddle with only one dildo, which was also currently empty.
Both sluts checked out how the sluts were held in place. There were no wide leather belts over their hips to secure them to the saddles. Instead, their feet were held wide by metal restraint cuffs which were attached to the floor. And their arms were held out and down, almost like the support wires on a tall television tower. The wrist cuffs were leather with a thick cable connecting them to a heavy spring which was attached to the floor with a very short length of chain.
The woman who had been calling for it to stop was pulling frantically against the springs which held her tight on the saddle. There was a loud “click,” and suddenly she stopped struggling and yelled out, “No, no, no,” as a heavy stream of brown water splashed onto the tiles behind her saddle.”
As her cries faded out, there was a second click, and a smaller amount of water splashed to the floor in front of her. This water was more or less clear, but had a heavy medicinal smell.
“Thorough cleaning front and back,” Marcie said to JJ as she straddled one of the saddles. She reached down and ran her fingers across one of the hollow dildos. “At least they are pre-greased,” she said as she lowered herself down on the twin metal prongs.
The woman in the black bikini bottom walked over to JJ and said roughly, “Do you understand what you are supposed to do, slut?”
“No… I mean, yes,” sputtered JJ.
“That’s Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, trustee,” the woman spat back at her. She then pointed down to her leather bottoms. “Didn’t Sarge tell you how to speak?”
“Ma’am, yes, Sarge told us what to say… Ma’am, trustee,” JJ replied. She then slumped slightly and said, “I just sort of forgot because I was scared of what those things are going to do to me.” She pointed down at the saddle alongside where she stood.
“You should be more afraid of me than that,” the trustee barked. “Now get your ass and cunt down on that saddle or I’ll wipe that lubricant off and make you dry hump those dildos.”
JJ dropped down onto the saddle, squirming slightly to make sure that everything lined up as she impaled herself on the prongs. “Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, trustee,” she said dutifully.
The trustee then clamped JJ’s ankles into the restraints. Their placement caused her to have to open her legs almost to maximum. Then the trustee attached the leather wrist cuffs and attached the cables to the springs. JJ pulled at the cables and noted that her wrists seemed to be able to move quite easily. Then the trustee reached down and pulled some sort of pin out of the side of the spring mechanism.
JJ was nearly jerked off the saddle as the full strength of the spring was suddenly pulling on her left arm. Her cry of surprise and pain was cut short as the trustee pulled the pin on the second spring, causing her to return to upright.
“That hurt,” JJ whined.
“Did you say something, slut?” the trustee snapped.
“Ma’am, no, Ma’am, I didn’t, trustee,” she replied, properly assuming that things could get worse for her if she complained.
Marcie just watched silently as the trustee attached her ankles to the restraints and then her wrists to the cables. Having watched what happened to JJ, she was ready for the sudden pull when the first spring was released. The trustee looked up at her as she put her fingers into the ring on the second release pin.
“Did you have anything to say?” she asked Marcie.
“Ma’am, no, Ma’am, trustee,” she replied. She debated saying “trustee brenda” since the very faded marking on the trustee’s breast said “slut brenda,” but decided not to appear too observant.
The trustee jerked the pin out of the spring mechanism and smiled as Marcie was pulled back upright on the saddle. “I didn’t think you did,” she said derisively as she walked back to the barber area to get the next recruit.
Marcie remained silent as the warm liquid began to fill her insides. JJ, on the other hand, whimpered slightly as her bowels began to fill. When the liquid began flowing in the front dildo, Marcie gave a slight grunt. JJ again could not remain silent and cried out, “Ow! That burns!” as the disinfectant and antibiotics washed into her cunt.
“It’s just a strong douche,” Marcie said quietly. “Try to at least appear brave. I think the trustee is looking for someone to be her private pet during our training.”
She looked over at JJ and said, “I’d rather you were MY pet.” Then she smiled and added, “I would be a lot more gentle on you.”
JJ again cried out slightly, this time from surprise as her cunt clenched down on the metal tube.
“What now?” Marcie asked.
“Nothing,” JJ replied. “I just think my body was trying to tell me something.”
“Quiet in the ranks and eyes front!” yelled the trustee, and both women turned to look directly in front of them. Both dildos went through four cycles. The water in front became less medicinal with each cycle. Evidently something changed about the water in the back also, because there was less cramping. By the time the fourth cycle emptied, the water was basically clear.
“Shower time,” the trustee said cheerily as she released JJ’s restraints and pointed to a narrow opening at one end of another tile wall. This wall went from floor to ceiling. Enough of the hallway on the other side was visible to tell that it was no wider than the opening.
JJ waited at the doorway until Marcie was released. The trustee walked over to them and said somewhat angrily, “It’s a walk-through shower. You can’t get lost. Just keep your eyes closed and keep moving.”
She laughed and added, “If you don’t come out the other side, someone will eventually come in and find you, but you really don’t want to stay in there too long.” She laughed again as she walked away.
JJ looked over at Marcie with very wide eyes and said, “You first?”
“No,” she replied. “You first. That way I can push you on through if you panic and stop.”
JJ slumped her shoulders and said, “Uuhhhhhh,” as she stepped into the narrow hallway.
There was absolutely no light in the shower area, so both girls were walking with their hands lightly touching both sides of the narrow hallway.
The wall on the right-hand side ended, and the wall on the left curved around in a half circle into an even tighter hallway. As JJ turned and entered that loop, water began spraying from nozzles on the walls, floor, and ceiling. It was very hard, very cold, and was pulsating like the water jets at a car wash.
“Close your eyes!” yelled Marcie as the smell of soap and disinfectant reached her.
Soon the water was not only hard, cold, and pulsating, it was also filled with soap and a strong disinfectant of some sort.
“Yipe!” yelled JJ as a nozzle pulsed directly under her, hitting her directly between the legs. “That went up inside of me!” she sputtered.
Marcie just pushed her and said, “Keep moving.”
This time it was the wall on the left that ended and the wall on the right that curved. In the next section, the water was slightly warmer and smelled less of disinfectant. There was still soap of some sort, but it had a less pungent smell.
When the wall turned again, the water was warmer still, and there was no smell or feel of soap.
The next turn went into a hallway where nothing seemed to happen– at least nothing that they could hear. “What do you think is next?” JJ asked as she hesitated in the turning section of the hallway.
Marcie laughed slightly and said, “It’s either wax or air dry, but I would keep my eyes closed in either case.” She paused and then answered JJ’s unasked question. “Like in a car wash,” she said and pushed JJ along in front of her.
Completing the turn put them into a hallway and triggered blowers with warm air blowing forcefully up from the floor, down from the ceiling, and out of vents on the walls. “Air dry,” said JJ as they slowly stepped through the powerful blowers.
When the wall on the right ended this time, the wall on the left didn’t curve. Instead, it ended square into another wall. A voice said, “You can open your eyes now.”
When they opened their eyes, another trustee was standing next to a doorway which led outside. “Line up in front of your barracks and wait for the rest to finish,” she said curtly and pointed out the door. Marcie took the time to read the trustee’s faded markings. She was trustee yvonne.
Marcie and JJ walked out onto the dusty clay and joined the other recruits on the sidewalk in front of what appeared to be an old-fashioned army barracks. There were small squares painted on the sidewalk. Marcie stood on the next open square, and JJ followed her example. It was about a half-hour until all of the recruits had finished processing-in and joined them on the sidewalk.
Once the recruits were all in place, Sarge emerged from the shed accompanied by the trustee who had been harsh with them during processing.
“Box in!” Sarge yelled and all of the recruits came to attention. “I believe all of you have already met trustee brenda.” he growled out. “She is one of your barracks trustees. You will call her ‘trustee’ and give her the same respect that you give me… or any other person wearing clothing.” He put his hands on his hips and said, “Do you understand that, sluts?”
“Sir, yes, Sir, we understand, Sarge,” they shouted back. Marcie’s answer was slightly different, but it was lost in the other twenty-eight voices.
Sarge shook his head as if he were disappointed and stepped back, allowing trustee brenda to step forward.
“I see you need more of the rules explained to you,” she said with a sneer. “As of right now, you have no rights.” She glared at the recruits up and down the line. “That includes,” she said, “the right to speak as a person.” She spat on the ground– or at least she acted as if she did; no saliva appeared to leave her mouth. “That means that you do not EVER use personal pronouns when speaking to your betters.”
She sneered and chuckled. “For those of you too ignorant to know what a personal pronoun is, that means ‘I, we, us,’ and so forth.” She looked up and down the line before saying, “For those of you who don’t know who your ‘betters’ are, that is anyone who isn’t currently standing next to you naked.”
Again she looked up and down the line and then asked, “Now, can one of you sluts tell me what your last answer to Sarge should have been?”
JJ looked over to Marcie, but she shook her head very slightly, indicating that they should both remain quiet. One of the recruits, Paula, answered, “Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, I can, trustee.”
Marcie gave JJ’s hand a quick squeeze as trustee brenda walked down in front of the recruit that had answered. Scowling as she spoke, she said, “No you can’t, you ignorant slut. If you knew the answer, you would have spoken correctly just now.”
She stared at the frightened recruit and yelled in her face, “What is your name, slut?”
“Ma’am, Paula, Ma’am, trustee,” she answered back in an obviously frightened voice.
“Wrong again!” yelled trustee brenda. “Assume the punishment position!”
The startled recruit stared back at her with wide eyes. “Don’t you know the punishment position?” trustee brenda asked.
“No… I don’t” the recruit stammered back.
“That’s another punishment,” trustee brenda said loudly as she put her face almost against the trembling recruit’s ear. “Step forward so that you and I can demonstrate the proper punishment position for the rest of these sluts.”
The recruit stepped forward and the trustee pulled her down to the center of the line. “Face me,” she ordered, “feet a little more than shoulder-width apart!”
The recruit did so.
“Legs straight; arms straight; palms flat on the ground.”
The recruit paused a moment to picture what she had been ordered to do and then bent over forward and allowed her palms to drop down onto the ground. The effect was that her ass was now the highest point on her body.
“Tighten it up,” barked the trustee. “Walk your feet closer to your hands.”
The recruit was now straining to hold her legs straight. Her ass was tilted even more into the air.
“I am going to be gentle on you this time,” she said with a smile. “I’m only going to give you two swats for each of your stupid errors. That’s a total of eight– two for the wrong answer to Sarge; two for the first wrong answer to me; another two for the second wrong answer; and two for getting your name wrong.”
She snorted a laugh and looked up at the rest of the recruits. “In the future, sluts, it will be a minimum of five swats for each act of stupidity.”
She then walked over to the barracks door and reached inside. When she came back she was holding a leather paddle about eight inches long and two inches wide with a four-inch wooden handle. There was a long leather thong tied to the end of the handle.
Trustee brenda stood behind and slightly to the side of the recruit, whose body was now trembling slightly either in fear or from the effort of holding the prescribed position.
Trustee brenda brought the paddle down in two quick strikes. The slap of the leather hitting Paula’s ass was almost as loud as her gasp of pain.
“The correct answer to Sarge’s question was, ‘Sir, yes, Sir, this slut understands, Sarge.’ Say that!”
Paula dutifully answered, “Sir, yes, Sir, this slut understands, Sarge.”
Two more swats from the paddle followed. They seemed harder, or at least the sound of the paddle was much louder and Paula’s cries were much more piteous.
“The correct answer to my first question was, ‘Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, this slut can, trustee.’ Say that!”
Paula quickly answered, “Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, this slut can, trustee.”
Trustee brenda again brought her arm down quickly to deliver two swats to Paula’s now red bottom. It was hard to tell if the swat itself was louder because Paula’s cries nearly drowned out the sound of the leather hitting the flesh of her ass.
BDSM Boot Camp · Bound 3 · Part 1 (1/2)
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