Lessons in fear

The halls now ran with a torrent of whispers. Where before there was such uneasy silence, now waves of fear and doubt washed through the tangled throngs. Scantily-clad students who mere hours before would not have dreamed of putting a foot out of line, now tripped over their stiletto heels and openly questioned whether they should attend the next lesson. It was as if Madame Stanfield had been the pin that held everything together, the rod down the back of every corset, the ruler ever hovering. Without that commanding presence stalking the halls among them, the vaunted slutwives suddenly felt more like a gaggle of strutting hens. Divested of all the prestige and perfectionism which gave their hard work purpose and direction. That intimidating woman was the academy, at least to them. Without her, they felt cold and exposed in their ridiculously-short uniforms and lack of underwear. Mascara began to run beneath tear-welling eyes and throats began to close up around the lingering taste of semen which had been barely noticed before.

Still, as important as she was to them… the imprints of her instruction and invisible workings of the Algorithm could not really be shaken so easily. Subtle, sweet scents began diffusing through the ventilation systems, a sure sign that their massed anxieties had been taken note of. When the order came for all students to gather in the main hall, they did so in immaculate rows as always… glad just to have simple instructions to follow. In a rare show of full ****: near to 150 human sextoys presented themselves in lines from 3rd years on the cusp of sale and graduation right down to the freshest meat wobbling precariously in their blocked ‘training heels’. Jesse saw several groups of these still linked together with little silver chains snaking out from the back of their skirts, and was washed over with a sense of nostalgia and closeness to his own classmates. He reached out silently to clasp the hands of Suzy and Fran beside him, receiving a reassuring squeeze from the former at least.

Onto the stage above them all… stepped Derrick Carter, flanked by his twin giantesses. Jesse at least, was not particularly surprised to see him… parley as he had been to some of the political manoeuvrings of his superiors of late. He glanced to either side to judge the other’s reactions though: Lizzy seemed to be positively buzzing with adoration, of course. Suzy looked suspicious, but was also more interested in how the rest were holding up. Which drew both femboys’ attentions to Franceska. Franceska whose jaw was set and eyes burned with a hatred unlike anything either had witnessed before. Their normally calm and kindly companion seethed so visibly it seemed she might actually rush toward the stage at any moment… and might very well be able to shrug off at least the initial round of collar shocks if she did so. The hypnotic patterns of her ‘live ink’ tattoos flickered and shimmered through all manner of spiked and erratic patterns, a not exactly inconspicuous display of whatever feelings were boiling up inside the young woman. Thankfully, for now all eyes were still rooted in the same direction hers were, as Mr Carter began his speech. With a few more hand squeezes and the strategic use of a stiletto heel, Jesse finally managed to get his friend to regain a little composure. Though her gaze still seemed to slip right through him as he did so. Complicated thoughts clearly raced within that brow as she slipped back into the correct posture of a slut on parade: legs crossed, arms locked behind and breasts fully presented for leisurely perusal.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” The man on his raised platform began.

“I’m not going to beat around your bushes here…” He paused, perhaps for a laugh that never came, or perhaps just to savour his own dry humour.

“Madame Stanfield is gone.” Another pause, as if even he was just slightly waiting to see if those words rang true.

“I know how much she meant to all of you, and how tightly the legacy of this building is tied up with her and her family. I won’t belittle or burden you with the reasons behind the decisions that have been made. The fact is that those reasons don’t really matter to you, do they?”

The off-blonde man pinned them all with a questioning stare. A questioning stare that did not offer any question at all.

“The fact is that you all came here to offer yourselves in service to something higher… but the trade off for that was supposed to be protection. You offer your bodies out, day after day… in the trust that you can do so safely, without fear.”

Mr Carter looked pointedly at the line of Jesse’s class, shorter one member than it should be. It was at this moment, smoothly, that Beth emerged from the shadows at the side of the room, to fill that gap.

“You are each a precious investment, in the future of humanity. An investment at this turning point in our advancement that could, quite possibly, last forever. I am being in no way hyperbolic when I say that: a thousand years from now, it is your hard work and sacrifices that our great society will still be being built upon. Which is why you deserve no less than the perfection expected of you, from those that are supposed to shield you. Ms Stanfield would be the first to admit to you, that there she failed!”