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Slave Camp - Evening Wears On

It was a measure of how the day had gone that Emerson was relieved to be guided to a chair with straps on the armrests, legs, and back. He and Kerra had been reunited and brought back to their group, walked through the halls on the overhead tracks and brought up behind the others. More specifically, Emerson had walked; Kerra, thoroughly spent, had hung from her wrists.

Each of the slaves in the group was guided to stand in front of a matching sturdy chair, though Kerra had slumped back into hers, unable to keep her feet. The room was a narrow one, six rows of four seats each, with the negative-cheetah from the baths standing at the front of the room. She was wearing rather more than she had while hot-tubbing; only ragged jeans and a t-shirt, but it still was an increase from nothing. She grinned at the naked stallion slave wearing her collar and purred to the class, "Hello, Trigger, and Trigger's friends. Welcome to Speech Training one-oh-one.

"You've all had a pretty good workout, and we don't want you *all* passing out on your first real day here, so today you get this class, which if nothing else isn't a strain on your bodies. In fact, the more you relax and just go along with things, the better you'll do, for starters. Everyone sit."

Emerson sat down. He was in good shape, but the workout had been a stiff one, so he was glad of it. Most of the others, though, were far, far more needful of the rest. He was completely unsurprised when the clamps on the armrests closed on their own, tightly pinning him at wrists, elbows, mid-bicep, ankles, knees, waist, and neck. The neckband wasn't tight, but was thick and stiff, holding his chin up. The cheetah trainer had to go lift Kerra into position to hit the pressure sensors in the chair properly; the vixen had been slumped forward too much.

There was a collective sneeze from the room, as the thick posture collars abruptly vented a small quantity of a greenish gas; a slight haze hung around each slave's head for a moment, and a sudden tightening of the waist-belt ensured that each slave gasped sharply and inhaled it. Emerson felt light-headed, but otherwise wasn't sure what had just happened. Some of the others apparently felt some effect, though, as some quiet noises rolled around the room. One, much more distinct than the others, was a moan from Kerra.

"To ensure you all pay attention, you've been administered a mild stimulant. It reacts with acidic buildup in your muscles, so the more exhausted you are, the more it helps. You'll all get familiar with it over the next few weeks, I'm sure," the cheetah informed them. Justice, Emerson recalled, was her name.

From a door at the side of the front of the room, the trainer retrieved a hand-trolley, rather like an airline stewardess', but loaded with rounded silvery-looking pods rather than amenities. She went first to her favored horse, who was in the front row. Emerson and Kerra were bringing up the rear, so neither could see precisely what she did, but when she bent down with one silvery pod to Trigger's groin and came up without it, it wasn't hard to guess. The horse began promptly to moan softly in his seat.

As the cheetah made her way through the room, she gave no further explanations. Each time she bent to position one of the objects in a slave's lap, the slave promptly began moaning softly, some of them squirming. Once she got toward the back of the room, Kerra and Emerson could see the objects a bit more closely. There were two varieties; one with a protruding dong and one with a large hole. Females received the phallic ones, which Kerra soon found vibrated in a distinctly pleasing manner, and males had the others slipped down over their erections; those then tightened in place and began a slow pulsing.

Justice returned to the front of the room, leaving the cart off to the side rather than putting it away. "For this class," she announced, "your duty is simple. Every time I ask a question or make a command, you reply, 'Yes, Mistress.' In later classes you'll get used to making decisions about how to answer. For now you just get used to agreeing to whatever you're told. Since I like to think you're all good boys and girls to start with, you get to start in the 'happy' state. You all like the 'happy' state, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," came the prompt reply from the room; Kerra was sore all over and still bone-tired despite the stimulant, but she was at least conscious enough to hear and obey. In fact, she was finding herself getting aroused again quickly; she might have just finished spending who-knows-how-long bound up and masturbated, but the allure of bondage simply never failed to get her heart racing.

Justice grinned. "Quick learners, you lot. As I'm sure you've noticed, some trainers here are nicer to you than others. I'm the 'soft' one. I'm all friendly and like letting you all take it easy, and you're all going to love me like your best friend sooner or later. And sooner or later, someone's going to try to get away with something, and I'm going to use you for a demonstration to everyone else that even a 'nice' Mistress will still punish misbehavior hard enough to make sure nobody tries it a second time. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," once more came the reply, followed by soft moans as the various toys continued their gentle ministrations.

The questions then came in a steady stream, each one followed by a pause to let them all enjoy their rewards.

"Are you all enjoying yourselves?" "Yes, Mistress."

"Are you going to be good little slaves and do everything you're told?" "Yes, Mistress."

"You are mine to do with as I please, aren't you?" "Yes, Mistress."

The questions rolled on in a wave that seemed to drag on and on; only the periodic gasp of a slave brought to a slowly-building climax punctuated their choruses of "Yes, Mistress." Emerson heard a rich moan from Kerra as she reached her orgasm and the sound of it made him close his eyes. She'd just creamed her panties agreeing to... what was it they'd just said yes to? Something about starring in a porn movie with whips? No matter. There was just nothing that made his cock tremble like knowing she was caught in the throes of another orgasm, no matter how many times he heard it. The cheetah hadn't even spoken the next demand before his moan rose by itself.

The litany of questions grew outrageous at times, and Emerson could see some of those in front of him squirm at a few - those who weren't simply blissfully relaxing into their lust, or weren't enthusiastically hoping for those ideas. His face reddened at one he was *sure* was directed at him - but when told, "Lie down in bed and lift your tail in wait for Master Spots," he echoed "Yes, Mistress," along with everyone else. He squirmed hard, but successfully managed to not moan out an advertisement of the accompanying climax.

At the front of the room, the cheetah briskly pulled down her jeans, revealing a pink silk thong. She tossed the jeans over to the side, then walked up to Trigger. She touched a button on his chair; it tilted forward, lowering his nose to her waist level. She turned about and presented him with her posterior. "Kiss my ass," she commanded - and the room echoed with "Yes, Mistress," while the stallion obediently pressed his lips to her buttock. She rewarded him by removing the device from his crotch and unbinding him, then whispering a command in his ear. Trigger stood, cock still dripping from multiple orgasms contained inside the silvery pod, placed his wrists into the overhead track, and was walked out of the room.

One by one, the cheetah went through the slaves, issuing the same command over and over. Most of the slaves came in with some training and promptly did as they were told; a few hesitated but obeyed without her making comment. Finally only Kerra and Emerson at the back of the room were next. Justice stood between them and hit both buttons at once, tilting them both forward. "You know the drill by now - kiss my ass!" she commanded.

Emerson cheerfully gave her a firm smooch on her black-with-yellow-spots backside, and Kerra planted one on the opposite buttock, each of them picking one spot for a target. Her rear was nicely toned and her fur was soft and thick; Emerson loyally decided that he liked smooching Kerra's better, not least because she could be teased by it. The cheetah removed their toys, relieving them of the constant stimulation, and hit the button on their seats that released them. "Arms in the cuffs, off to your next class, you two!" she commanded.

Feeling much more relaxed and recovered than on entering the classroom, Kerra and Emerson reached up to be conveyed to their next class. The hallway was blindingly bright as always, and so they had to keep their eyes tightly shut as they were marched along, close enough together that Kerra could feel Emerson's tail swishing across her belly while they walked. Unlike their other trips, though, the track halted while they were still out in the bright lights. Emerson felt a tail brush against his belly - a long, slim reptilian tail, probably belonging to the one who had such amusement grinding at his ears at lunch.

In brisk succession, first Kerra and then Emerson felt a hand grip them by the left ankle, then the right, making them each lift a foot (and feel something be slipped on), then the other, then feel something get pulled up tight. For Emerson, it felt slick and tight, and he was pretty sure it wasn't a pair of briefs he was now wearing. Kerra, for her part, wagged her tail at the feel of a strap-on pulled tightly in place. The track moved, and this time they passed through a door into a less overilluminated place.

At the back of the line, Kerra and Emerson had the best view of the slaves; every male was decked out in a set of pink panties with a bulls-eye on the backside, and every female was boasting a substantial strap-on. The walls each were lined with alternating wardrobes and full-length mirrors. At the front of the room, a silver-furred wolf in a neat tuxedo waited, hands behind his back. He made a gesture and the track moved, splitting the slaves to opposite sides of the room by gender.

He addressed them simply. "I am Master Gowns. I am not permitted to teach masochism any longer because I break my toys. I will teach all of you to wear with pride any costume you are assigned - and I will very much enjoy punishing the *slightest* infraction. You will obey me instantly and without question or you will scream." His grin was decidedly without humor. "The one whose screams I enjoy the most will wear my collar and will make many more of them for me."

The room was nearly silent, save for a almost-stopped whimper from a tigress with a small token of a riding crop dangling from her collar. Master Gowns laughed and advanced over to her side. "Agatha, isn't it? I see Master Bite has already claimed you - pity. I had looked forward to making you mine if he did not. Still, I may have some amusement out of you. Spread your legs, lift your chin, and apologize for disrupting the class with your weakness."

The tigress began to cry, trying to draw back from his touch, but her arms were still bound into the track overhead, preventing her from moving. He slapped her fiercely. "Obey!" he roared at her, and though the tears ran down her cheeks, Agatha spread her legs and began blubbering out a tearful apology.

Master Gowns waited, letting her speak for nearly a full minute, then drew his hand back and delivered four violent swings of his open hand between her spread thighs. She screamed at the first and her apology was cut off, but she did not pull her legs shut. After the fourth blow, the wolf's hand stayed in place, groping her firmly. "You enjoyed that. You don't want to enjoy it, but you did. How... shameful," he murmured, just loudly enough for the room to hear.

Kerra and Emerson watched in unpleasant fascination. Clearly the tigress wasn't actually being injured by the strikes, but the wolf's willingness to go straight to such a violent punishment rattled them, and every other slave in the room, as it was meant to. Wiping his hand on the tigress' bare stomach, the wolf returned to the front of the room.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the one whose screams I enjoy the most, after dear Agatha here, will wear my collar and make many more of them for me. But, sadly, you will scream only in honestly earned punishment in this class. You will spend the bulk of your time learning proper dress - how to wear costumes, how to wear finery, how to wear little to nothing at all, and do it all with grace and style. Further, you will learn to assist your masters and mistresses in their own garbing.

"For our first lesson, the girls in the room will play Masters, while the males will be their handmaidens. Girls, your lesson today will be in style; you will select an ensemble that will move freely, look regal, and conceal your artificial erections. Boys, while your faux Masters are deciding what to wear, you will learn to dress yourselves as proper maids. In the wardrobes you will find components of various outfits as I have described. You will dress yourselves appropriately. Begin."

The overhead tracks released the slaves' arms, and they turned to the wardrobes lining the room. Kerra opened hers and promptly began looking through the array of jackets, shirts, pants, belts, ties, undershirts, undershorts, socks, shoes, ascots, handkerchiefs, vests, suspenders, cufflinks, and other assorted garments. Emerson less enthusiastically opened his and regarded the vast collection of... frill and fluff.

Kerra cheerfully began mixing and matching jackets and pants, starting from the outside in. Emerson moved (as most of the males did) with much less eagerness to try to find an outfit that would be less than utterly emasculating. The search was, as expected, fruitless. Not a single skirt was long enough to hide those bright pink panties, and every single one of them was the very peak of femininity.

With a sigh, Emerson picked one. It was black, with a high starched white collar and effectively no back other than some strings to tie it in place. The apron hung to mid-thigh, though the dress' skirt was little more than a fringe of white fur at his hips. The advantages it had were the slightly-longer-than-the-rest apron and the fact that it looked to be about his size. The disadvantages included everything else.

It was quite easy to put on. All Emerson had to do was step into the skirt, close a button on the collar to fasten it, then tie the side-straps behind his back. He took a look at himself in the mirror, and his face heated under his fur. He looked ridiculous - and his ever-present erection was tenting his panties. He was pleased to see his tail wasn't wagging in the *slightest*, as he'd never had any inclinations towards crossdressing.

And yet, here he was, having just done so on command, and making no move to pull it back off. And in the mirror, his pretty little vixen was just about giggling in entertainment. He'd just have to put up with it. The other males were finishing up their own outfitting and turning, mostly looking rather embarassed... though a few seemed perfectly at ease, and two had large splotches in their panties already, plus happy grins.

Master Gowns proceeded to walk through the room, criticizing the males' efforts and the females' choices, but not making any alterations. Every criticism came with the firm swing of a leather crop against an ear or muzzle, and after the first two, the rest of the room was already cringing away when he came near. The tigress screamed and clutched at herself, as he chose to apply the short whip to her much-abused privates, but stayed on her feet.

Kerra yelped at a snap across her perked nipple, and Emerson growled when it came down across his muzzle, but both stayed in place and earned no further responses. One canine wasn't so lucky - he flinched, made a reflexive move to catch the crop, and was promptly put back into the overhead shackles. When Master Gowns took out a small tube from his pocket that was familiar from the first class of the day, the dog's ears lowered and he whined pitifully.

Despite the shudder that ran through him, along with every other male in the room, Emerson's chemically-aroused shaft never softened an iota as Master Gowns punished the canine. With painstaking slowness, he drew his panties to his knees, then applied the exothermic gel to the dog's anus, then to his balls, and finally began masturbating him with a handful of the stuff. Emerson's throat closed up as he watched that exposed flesh redden and swell with irritation, the merciless wolf pumping while the dog began whining, then howling as the gel took effect, then finally screaming just as he came. Master Gowns coldly wiped his hand on the dog's belly and reached up to touch a button, sending the writhing canine from the room.

"Now. To partner you off," said Master Gowns before the door even closed. He processed slowly through the room, pointing first to a male, then pointing to a female and barking, "Attend!" Any slave who hesitated to run to his new faux-Master received a vicious snap of the crop to the side of the head; only one such lesson was needed. To his surprise, Emerson was not paired with Kerra, as he'd come to expect.

Instead, Emerson found himself at the side of the lizard-girl who'd amused herself against his head at lunch. She gave him an evil grin as Master Gowns announced, "As Masters, girls, you are allowed to take certain liberties with your handmaidens. However, in the interests of keeping up the pace, you may not give more than one order in a row that does not involve increasing the total number of garments you are wearing. Furthermore, you may not give any order requiring more than five minutes to complete. Begin."

Emerson whined as the first order in the room was the lizard-girl's smirking, "Grab your ankles." He glumly bent and lifted his tail while she gripped her strap-on and lasered in. For her part, Kerra was enjoying similar privileges - though she was making her leonine 'handmaiden' deep-throat her strap-on and lick her pussy with his scratchy tongue.

"You are so cute when you're embarassed," Emerson heard breathed to him, as the lizard-girl plunged in, reaching around to slide her hand into his panties and grip his erect member. "This is going to be fun." He sensibly kept quiet, though her grip on his cock was already making his breath come faster.

Kerra started as she felt a hand run over her behind, then pinch firmly; she just barely managed to keep from turning to look, and thereby saved herself a punishment from Master Gowns as he walked past. She murred instead, her hands gripping the ears of the kneeling lion in front of her, watching him happily bob his head on the strap-on, swallowing with obvious proficiency. He hadn't been one of the enthusiastic ones about getting into the maid outfit, but clearly he knew his way around oral.

Her body responded with that chemically-induced readiness she was already accustomed to, but she was still tired from her workout; hot desire was pulsing in her sex, but the lion hadn't brought her off by the time she decided she had to move on. "Maid, my undershirt," she ordered, a throaty rumble in her throat from her lust. The lion withdrew from her strap-on, and she admired his style; he left his wet tongue against the tip at the last, letting a streamer of saliva extend and break artfully.

While Kerra allowed the lion to lift her arms and pull the thin white t-shirt she had selected down over her head, Emerson was kneeling on the floor, holding the lizard-girl's ankle in one hand, trying to get a sock onto her clawed foot. She wasn't helping him much, though she wasn't actively making it harder; he had to carefully work the sides up a touch at a time to avoid tearing the cloth on her trimmed and blunted claws. Up so close from such a low vantage point, he had to admit she had trim, well-toned legs and a tight-looking cleft; all the same, he preferred his mate's fluffier form, even if the fur did disguise some definition.

Kerra flexed her arms, feeling the shirt. It was a man's V-necked white T-shirt with no accomodation for her breasts, and so it was stretched tight across them. From the lion's well-hidden grin, he liked the effect. She made a note of it to try on Emmy, once they got home. He always said she looked hot in his boxers. "Rub my shoulders," she decided, and the lion stood up and began firmly squeezing her shoulders. She murred and leaned back into it, his form looming over her from behind; purely as a matter of size he was strong enough to make it a very pleasantly deep rubbing.

Emerson, meanwhile, was still struggling with the lizard-girl's socks; he just couldn't get the material to stop snagging on her claws. Master Gowns stopped his pacing of the room and stood behind the laggard pair. "Both of you, stand facing me, legs spread, hands behind your back," he commanded. Fox and lizard alike hastened to obey, him quickly standing and her putting her half-clad foot down.

"You have each failed in your own ways. Emerson, you have failed to obey your Master's command in timely manner. Elle, you have made a ridiculously poor style decision; as you no doubt have discovered on your own, your feet are simply not well-suited for the wearing of socks *or* shoes outside of special designs, and as such, selecting both as part of your outfit was simply stupid." His hand lashed out, and Emerson clenched his teeth against a howl as the crop in it caught him one with a line of fiery pain across his sheath - but Master Gowns gave him a wintry smile. "I see you, too, might have been a favorite of mine, had you not been claimed already. Do thank Master Spots when you see him next, because otherwise I believe I would be teaching you to beg for my whip in private lessons." His hand stroked a single fingertip along the aching line left by the crop, and Emerson could feel his tip quivering.

"And that brings us to dear Elle. Minor mistakes of style, matters of taste, those are to be reprimanded and corrected. This, though, was sheer stupidity, as far as style is concerned. You could not possibly have considered that those elements of your outfit would work on you, and therefore I must assume it was rank idiocy on your part. This will not simply be reprimanded. This will be punished." The lizard-girl whimpered slightly, but held still.

"Four strokes to the soles. That should remind you. Sit, girl, feet in front of you and spread. Fox, kneel between her knees, grip her ankles, and pull them up against your sides." The two slaves hurried to obey, though the lizard-girl was wincing and swallowing hard as she felt her ankles pressed against Emerson's hipbones, soles presented forward. Emerson twitched nervously as Master Gowns lined up, but held her in place. Two gasps and six sobbing screams accompanied the following snaps of the crop, and then Master Gowns walked away, a tent in his pants.

Kerra's tail drooped at the sound, but she very, very carefully did not turn to look; some others were not so thoughtful. "I really don't like this class very much," was her immediate decision. "Shorts now," she told the lion, who seemed to share her opinion on the value of efficiency. He picked up the red silk boxers she had selected and knelt before her again; his cheek nuzzled the strap-on while he gently took her ankle in his hands and lifted her foot so he could put it into one leg of the underwear, then repeated the process for the other side. He tugged them up her legs, pulling the waistband out so the dildo attached to her waist could poke out through the fly.

Elle gritted her teeth as she stood on her sore and burning feet, but it wasn't *quite* too bad to withstand. "Shirt," she ordered, and Emerson hurried to get her the loose silk button-front shirt she had chosen. She was clearly going for a more casual, loose-fitting style than the formal look Kerra had selected. The sleeves had ruffles around the shoulders and down the outsides, and the wrists were somewhat flared. He draw it up her arms, then started closing the multitude of small buttons up the front. Her hands came up behind him and draw his face against her bare stomach; he paused in surprise, and then realized she was trembling.

His aggravation promptly melted. It was his romantic streak; he just couldn't stay mad at a frightened female, even if she had been responsible for the painful line across his privates. He nuzzled slowly at her belly, hands sliding to her hips to rub her sides. He carefully rubbed his furry cheek to her scales, stroking her sides while she held his head against her, and he could feel her pulse slowing as she calmed from the contact. When she loosened her grip on his head, he drew back and resumed buttoning up the shirt.

"Brush my tail," ordered Kerra, and the lion quickly moved to obey, kneeling behind her. There was no comb or brush available, but he did the best he could with his fingers, stroking down through the fur and carefully working out clumps and spatters of dried semen. She murred happily, at least getting a little bit of herself cleaned up, and without breaking Master Spots' order from the morning. Her bellyfur was still sticky with dried seed, and she hadn't bathed, but she could get her tail brushed!

Emerson looked up at the lizard-girl as he finished the last of the buttons - and his tail drooped as he saw not relief in her expression, but anger, and he promptly deduced that she was positively infuriated at having been led to show weakness to him! "Bend over," she demanded, and he did, remembering to pull his tail back up... and promptly yelped as she pulled down a slim leather belt and swung it firmly across his backside! It snapped and cracked across his furry rear; the fur absorbed some portion of each blow, but still it was enough to make him have to clench his jaw to keep from yelping.

Kerra murred happily and examined her tail, craning her neck to look over her shoulder. "Very nice," she proclaimed, then smiled at her lion 'maid.' "Spats now." She'd chosen a set of red spats, silk with elastic lining to make sure they clung nicely to her shapely calves, and the lion unhesitatingly knelt to stroke her legs, nuzzle her strap-on, and pull them into place.

Emerson knelt after the belt was set back aside, carefully not lowering his tail or reaching back to rub his aching rear end. Elle looked down at him, then demanded, "Briefs." He picked up the tight white cotton underwear she had chosen; she was clearly going for a more binding solution to disguising the strap-on. He drew it up, and she actually made a small noise of pleasure as it tilted the plastic dong up against her belly, grinding against her clit as its angle changed.

"Brush my hair," ordered Kerra, and the lion obeyed, stroking his fingers through her long blonde hair until it was clean, more or less. "Jerk off," commanded Elle, and Emerson did as he was told, face flushing as he left a thick stain in the pink panties and apron. "Button-front shirt," the vixen said, and her 'maid' efficiently pulled it onto her, nuzzling her breasts through the thin white undershirt she was already wearing, making her murr. "Vest," commanded the lizard-girl, and Emerson drew a frill-adorned blue vest onto her shoulders.

"Pants," both 'masters' ordered simultaneously. Kerra had chosen a heavy outfit; the black pants pressed the stiff strap-up upwards against her belly, winning a murr from her as it rubbed along her clit subtly with every breath. The lizard-girl, by contrast, had chosen a more tropical look, loose silk pants with ruffles around the groin and up and down the legs, making it easy to conceal the bulge of the toy about her waist.

Finally, the last touches were ready to be put in place. "Jacket," Kerra told the lion, and he helped her shrug into a heavy, quaint and vaguely military-looking jacket, adorned with gold braid and epaulettes, the whole mass of it draping heavily over her. "Sunglasses," was the last order from the lizard-girl, and Emerson slipped them on for her.

It was a long, slow-paced class, and it took what felt to Emerson like ages to get all the females suited up. Finally, though, everyone was dressed. Master Gowns looked them over with a critical eye and declared to the room in general, "There is *much* work to be done here. But no more time today. Maids, pull your panties to your knees, then grab ankles. Masters, make arrangements as necessary, then hilt them!"

With a fresh groan, Emerson drew down the pink panties again and bent over, tail high, to receive a fresh reaming. The lizard-girl grinned in triumph and struck hard - then blinked in surprise as the strap-on sprouted a knot, tying her against Emerson's backside! Small confused noises came from around the room as every female found herself linked to a male's backside.

"Now, maids, after dressing comes undressing. Oftentimes this may involve doing so after sating your master. Disrobe your master and put 'his' clothes neatly away, then do the same for your own, leaving only the strap-on and panties."

Emerson sighed and set to work again, while the giggling lizard-girl reached around his waist again...