By the time they were returned to the house their arms ached, they were lathered in sweat and red-cheeked from effort. They were allowed up to their rooms for half an hour to shower and freshen up again. As she quickly soaped her body over, Helen wondered why they had not arranged the exercise before breakfast. Two showers in morning seemed wasteful. She was sure Sebastian had said they would be taken straight to the sitting room afterward. Had they crossed some cleanliness threshold? Presumably, it was programmed that way, only it seemed out of place for a machine to contradict itself. Was there some subtle reason behind the change of plan she did not understand? Not that she was complaining.

Refreshed, deodorized and yoked once more, they descended to the Sitting Room.

The big screen was alive and showed the words: Message 2. To be played to the subfems on the second morning of their challenge.

Beside the five rubber mats laid out in front of the screen, five blue curtained booths, each about two metres square and built from light tubular metal frames, had been set up along one side of the room. A square table could be seen standing inside each booth. The girls exchanged uneasy glances. Clearly the booths were meant for them, but what would go on within them?

The girls knelt on the mats facing the screen. Housebot 1 pointed at it and the playback began.

The sickly Creed appeared still in his wheelchair. Beside him on a low table with a padded top was the red-haired gimp-masked woman, now wearing a yoke like theirs. She was lying on her back with her legs up in the air and bent backward so that her feet were almost level with her shoulders. They were held there by three light rods clipped to her angle rings. One crossed between her ankles, keeping them spread wide, while the other two ran from her ankles to the ends of her yoke. The yoke itself was clipped to rings set in the sides of the table. The posture starkly exposed the smooth plump cleft of her pubes and the deep pit of her anus to the camera as they hung over the front edge of the table. The dark tunnel mouth of her vagina was clearly visible. On the table beside her haunches were a couple of large dildos.

Creed smiled feebly at them. 'I hope my alter ego has been looking after you properly,' he said. 'I had great satisfaction putting that programme together. Thinking about what he's doing to you now gives me a warm glow. And a hard on. Yes, I can still manage that.

'Now, today I want you to take a close look at my plaything here,' he continued, slapping and stroking the taut buttocks and inner thighs of the gimp woman. 'Isn't she beautifully restrained? I think this is an excellent posture to teach a girl her place and present her treasures to her master. Also of course it's a perfect position for a standing screw.'

He took up one of the dildos and pushed it into her anus, making her ring of flesh bulge as it penetrated her. They heard her groan and sigh about her plug gag. Creed took of the second dildo, which was a real monster, and drove it into her vagina. Her whole vulva swelled and gaped as the shaft slid up inside her and she groaned and whimpered in pain as she was stretched unnaturally wide, trailing off into a final soft sigh of contentment as the phallus lodged deep within her.

Now the handles of the two dildos jutted out from between her thighs, trembling with the tension of her flesh and rising and falling slightly with her breathing.

'See that angle they make?' Creed said, stroking the shafts. 'That's just right for a man standing between her legs to have either hole he wants. You had better get used to it because you'll be getting a lot of that today. Just in case you thought you'd only be coupling with rubber dildos all week, today you're going to get some real meat cocks inside you!'

They were all stirring in alarm and Tiffany was whimpering and shaking her head and trying to get to her feet. Housebot 2 rolled forward and pushed her back down onto the mat again.

'We've contacted some of the men that bit of industrial espionage last year made redundant and told them you were all responsible in one way or another. So naturally they were eager to pay their respects. They should be arriving about now. And I want you to welcome them with open legs. They've drawn lots as to which of you they'll have. And they'll be provided with spanking paddles to warm you up first, so that you're keen to please them. You're all healthy young women so you can handle half a dozen each without any trouble. Of course, if by now you're all protesting that you're innocent of the crime it may seem a bit unfair, but as I told you at the start, it's only an excuse. I just want you to know what it's like to live as a sex subfem.'

He slapped the bottom of the triply plugged gimp girl.

'My toy here would happily take on a dozen men just to please me because she'd learned the joy of total submission. Now it's your turn. Accept what happens and find the pleasure in it. At least then if you ever criticise the BDSM lifestyle again, you can say you know what you're talking about. See you tomorrow. Happy screwing.'

The screen went blank.

By then Helen and the other girls were all trying to get to their feet and more housebots had to be called into handle them. Their screams of outrage, fear and anger were muffled as their gag cheek pads inflated, pushing rubber tongues inward between their jaws and forcing them wide. They were dragged over to the booths kicking and struggling, making the housebots wheels squeal on the parquet flooring. There were sparks and crackles as the robot's shocked them again and again until they were reduced to trembling, helpless sacks of flesh. Limply they were laid on their backs on the padded vinyl tables, with their heads that overhung the top ends of the table being supported by padded hoop extensions. Their yokes were clipped to the table sides, their legs were bent painfully up and over their heads and spreader rods were clipped to their ankle cuffs, joining them to their yokes and each other. Then the curtain walls between the booths were pulled across, cutting off Helen's view of the other girls and leaving only their doorways open. As she stared up at the ceiling, she could still hear the others though, moaning and whimpering as with churning stomachs they contemplated what was to come.

It felt unreal to Helen because something this terrible simply did not happen to a hardworking, successful, attractive woman like her. Except that she knew with sick certainty that it was going to happen. How she hated Creed's memory and all his works. How could he have ever imagined this would help them understand his lifestyle? He was sick! Well she'd show him...

Then she realised the trap.

It would be crazy to make this worse than it had to be, but if they found any pleasure in the experience then they would be making Creed's case for him. They could not win unless they wanted to suffer. But then of course they were expected to suffer. Decent women did not enjoy this sort of sick game, only sluts or submissive types or masochists. So why was her gaping pussy beginning to tingle and feel a little slick? That was just instinctive, self-preservation. It must also explain her hard nipples standing up so brazenly, offering themselves to whatever sordid purpose was to come.

Housebot 6 entered her booth. In addition to its suction sponge cleaner arm it now carried a nozzle and cup device connected the tanks of fluid on its back. It plugged the nozzle into her shamefully exposed anus, and she groaned and rolled up her eyes as the sensuous flow of water flushed her rectum out.

'We want you to be clean and fresh for each of your visitors,' Sebastian said through the machine's speaker. The nozzle delivered a blob of lubricant into her passage before withdrawing. 'That's so they can get inside you easily if they want to use your rear. What do you say?'

'Ank ohh, aster,' Helen gurgled miserably through her gag.

The robot moved on to the next booth. She heard it service the other girls and then it all went quiet as they waited for their guests to arrive. She heard the others shifting in their bonds and Tiffany, she thought, snivelling softly. Poor girl, she was not as strong as the rest of them. After a few minutes Helen realized this was a torment all on its own. The anticipation was agony. Even if one of them had been careless with details of Creed's private life this was still punishment out of all proportion. She hadn't been the one responsible... although she had been tempted. Just get it over with, she wanted to shout. Screw me and be done!

Then she heard the footsteps of several people entering the room, followed by the curtains of her booth being drawn over.

With a thudding heart she craned her neck and looked down between the hills of her trembling breasts and the "V" of her raised and spread legs. A man in shirtsleeves with a hood over his head that only showed the slits of his eyes was standing in the door of her booth gazing down at her naked, splayed body. He had a spanking paddle in his hand that he began slapping against his other palm.

'So you're one of the bitches who screwed us, are you?' he said.

Helen shook her head. Suddenly it felt even worse that he thought she was guilty. Of course, it would make no difference to what he was going to do to her.

'One of you did, though. That's what started the trouble. Mr Creed might have won the case against Monsanti except for that. You didn't lose your jobs, did you? So unless one of you owns up, we'll have to screw the lot of you, understand?'

Miserably she nodded. She heard male voices rising in anger from the other booths and a squeal of female pain.

'Looks like nobody's going to confess,' he said. 'So, you all get punished.'

He pinched a tuft of her golden pubic curls and pulled it until it stretched her labia lip and she yelped in pain, hot tears pricking the backs of her eyes.

'Hurts, does it?' he asked. 'Well so it should. So will this!'

He swiped the spanking paddle across her tight buttocks and pouting pubic mound, making a sharp fleshy slap! Helen shrieked in pain. He struck twice more, forward and backhand. Then he brought the paddle down vertically so that it smacked the plump swell of her vulva, squashing her soft sex mouth only for it to spring resiliently back up again with a shiver, but now stinging and flushed with pink. Helen's legs were jerking about as far as their confining rods allowed, as though she was trying to run away from her blazing bottom. The paddle descended again on her pussy and came up dark and wet with her lubrication which was flowing into her slot as though seeking her pain.

Perhaps she had abandoned whatever pride she had left, or he had just beaten it out of her, because in between her yells of pain she gurgled, 'huck me!' the gag slurring her desperate words, 'crew me!'

He understood and granted her wish, unzipping and freeing his straining shaft. Taking hold of her hips he stabbed it into her gaping lovemouth, ramming it in to the hilt in one vicious thrust. Helen shrieked, but at least it was done. Then he began to pound away inside her, filling her vagina until his cockhead thudded into its end wall and rocking her to and fro with each thrust.

This was not lovemaking; this was punishment and payback and the assertion of the rights of the powerful over the temporarily powerless. He would leave bruises deep inside her to remember him by. It was crude and primitive and terrible and disgustingly exciting.

Filled with angry lust he came quickly. She felt him spurt inside her with a grunt of triumph and then he sagged across her body, his masked face resting on her hot breasts. Shamelessly, while he was still lodged inside her, she tried to suck on his shaft with her sheath, trying to bring herself off. Just another minute...

But all too soon he rose and pulled out of her, his shaft slipping from her clenching tunnel, dripping spilt sperm onto the floor from its tip.

'You want more, don't you?' he said with amused contempt.

Feeling like the worst kind of stereotype of a woman who has just been turned on by rough sex but unable to lie, she nodded. Later she would hate these feelings but right now she was trapped by her needs.

'Well I'd enjoy screwing and spanking you all day, but the rule is one screw per girl. I've got to give the others a change. But maybe another time...'

With his cock still hanging out he came around the side of the table to where her head rested on its support hoop. Taking hold of her golden hair he twisted her head round and pushed his still hot slippery shaft into her reluctantly open and inviting mouth.

'Now lick me clean,' he commanded.

She did the best she could with her tongue. She tasted his sperm and her unwillingly spent juices and she knew that combination would always be the taste of shame. When he was clean, he used a handful of her hair to dry his shaft. Then he tucked it away and left her there: spayed wide with her red-lipped sex and burning buttocks on show for anybody who cared to look into her booth. A clamour of slaps and smacks and grunts and sobs came to her from the other booths, where her companions were suffering their own private torments.

In a minute, Housebot 7 appeared and meticulously cleaned and washed Helen out. The warm douche was soothing but it also dampened the liquid heat in her loins, leaving her feeling perversely both soiled and frustrated. If she wanted release, then she needed her user to stay inside her for longer. Or, failing that, another user. She wanted more! Oh God - that was madness!

She had to wait what seemed like ages but could not have been more than twenty minutes for her next user, also anonymous behind a mask. He did not speak to insult or quiz her. He looked her over, probed her slot which filled with her juices at his touch, and then beat her breasts with his paddle until her eyes streamed with tears and her hips were bucking and bottom bouncing as she pleased with him to screw her. Finally, he freed his cock and rammed it into her. He used her roughly, of course, but he was not hasty, savouring her humiliation. It was exactly what she wanted and this time she came with wild abandon.

Shocked by the intensity of her orgasm she thought for one dizzy moment: that was fantastic! She licked his cock clean almost with pathetic gratitude. And then he was gone and shame and reality returned.

It was during the wait for her next user, listening to the lusty sounds of unwilling sex taking place all around her, that the demons of doubt filled her thoughts. Hell, what had they done to her? How could she react like this? Or was she doing it to herself?

Her fourth man entered her anus, filling her rectum with a huge cock. He was viciously hard, stretching her tight passage to its limits. She was terrified he was going to tear her, right up until the moment she came again.

Once again, she was given time to recover after Housebot 7 dutifully flushed the sperm from her aching passage and reapplied the lubrication, which had saved her from who knew what additional torment. By now her mind was wandering and she found herself resolving virtuously to be prepared like a Boy Scout and never go anywhere without a well-greased bum hole. She shook her head. Oh, God, what was she thinking?

In due course a fifth man beat and screwed her and then a sixth, but by then she was feeling too tired, confused and overwhelmed her body's excesses to care one way or another, and she served them and licked them clean mechanically; aroused but knowing she did not have another mega-orgasm inside her. In another way that was amazing in itself.

And then there were no more cocks to have pushed up her vagina or bum hole or to lick off with pitiful servility.

The last footsteps departed from the sitting room and the curtains were drawn back from the booths. Helen looked round, seeing the other girls lying limp on their tables, the knees of their numbed rod-braced legs turned out, breasts and thighs sore from their paddling. Hollow, disbelieving eyes stared back at her. Spent sperm and dribbled womanly juices lay splattered the floor at the foot of each table.

The big screen lit up to show the face of Master Sebastian. 'You have each serviced your quota. Judging by the comments of your users that I monitored they were impressed by your physical appearance, contrition and efforts to please them. They particularly praised your tits and tight arses. Well done. You are free to return to your rooms until dinner.'

The robots released their ankles from the restraining rods and their yokes from the tables. The girls tried to sit up, unbend and lower their legs to the floor and screams broke it as they were assailed by multiple acute pins and needles and cramps. Apparently spending three hours on your back with your legs in the air being subjected to spanking and violent sexual intercourse was harder than it looked. Helen found she could barely walk let alone high-step and, along with the others, the housebots had to help her upstairs.