My father was a Brownman, a servant of the Outer Castle, as his mother had been - until she was promoted to a Greenman, and entered the Inner Castle. I never saw her again, though my father saw her from time to time.
Only servants, the army and the aristocracy entered the Castle at all, the servants through the North Gate, and the aristos through the South Gate. The Women's Infantry in their black and silver uniforms used the East Gate, and the Men's Infantry in green and gold used the West Gate. Over fifty thousand servants and soldiers worked in the Outer Castle; many of them lived in Springvale, the town that had built up at the North Gate over the years since the Castle was built.
It was like a grand medieval citadel, sprawling across the hill that once upon a time overlooked fields and forests. From the town, though, you could only guess at the hill. All you could really see was the Castle's outer wall, built high with stones so large they put Stonehenge to shame. From a great distance, you could just see over the outer wall to the top of the inner wall, and the fairytale castle within, but though we lived in its shadow we knew the Castle better from the aerial photography on television.
Four times a year there was a Grand Ball, and the television cameras were allowed to film the arrivals of the world's rich and famous in their elegant gowns and tailored suits. Sometimes we could watch them being greeted by the Queen. Though there were many who said she must be a hundred years old, or more, there was not a sign of age on her. She remained always a tall and imposing figure of youth and beauty, and was never shy of showing the voluptuous curves of her breasts.
But servants were rarely captured by the cameras. Their heads were shaved, and they were dressed all in long-sleeved black tops and floor-length black skirts, even the ones that were surely men. "Those are the servants of the court," my father would say, though that was, it seemed, the limit of his knowledge.
We were never a wealthy family, but my younger brother, David, had a recurring illness that cost us dearly in medical bills. By the time I reached adulthood, all our savings were gone, and our house mortgaged to the limit. My father's wages and the money sent by my grandmother were barely enough to live on, and anything left over went towards repayments. It is no exaggeration to say that we were desperate.
Times were hard for everyone, though. There in the heart of the Castle, aristos lived in incomprehensible wealth and comfort, and we had nothing. We could never hope to achieve such comforts ourselves. The most we could hope for was to serve in the Castle. The leftover scraps from their feasts would be such a wonder in comparison to the potatoes and cabbages and other such tiresome fare we were used to.
*
On the day I came of age, I went to the Castle, hoping to join the Women's Infantry, perhaps, or that I could be a Brownman like my father. I waited for hours with several others my own age, men and women, most from very far away, from other countries even. We were seen one by one, taken into a private room by a pair of Greenmen. There was no kindness in their elderly eyes, only a professional detachment as they ordered me to stand naked in front of them, examined me physically, and asked me a hundred questions. Most significantly, they asked, "Are you a virgin?"
I was expecting this. It was well known that the Castle only accepted virgins, though no one knew why. And somehow they always knew if you weren't. Even if I'd ever wanted to lose my virginity, my family had always made sure I never had the chance. "Wait until you're an adult," they would say. "Then, if the Castle doesn't want you, you can have as much sex as you like..."
So, I most certainly was. "Yes," I said confidently, and the Greenmen nodded.
They allowed me to get dressed, then announced: "We can offer you a position in the Inner Castle." They handed me a token confirming this, then sent me away again.
The Inner Castle... It was with a heavy heart that I returned home. The pay would be good, and of great help to my family, and really the only other way I could think to earn as much was as a prostitute. My aunt worked at the brothel in town, and always seemed cheerful about it. "I could have been in the Army," she always said, "but I like sex with men far too much."
I showed my parents the token. "If I accept this," I said miserably, "I may never come home again." There was a chance, perhaps, that I would still see my father from time to time, as my grandmother still did, but she was a Greenman and I had no idea what I would be. "Or I could work in the brothel..."
"No," my mother said firmly. "If you don't go to the Castle, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Do as you're told, be a good girl, and maybe one day I'll see you on television, dressed in black and serving drinks to the Queen herself."
*
Many tears later, I presented myself, as instructed, at the Yellow Gate. This was a small gate next to the Green Gate, the main gate used by the Greenmen to pass between the Outer Castle and Inner Castle. There was no one coming out of the Yellow Gate, and I was the only one going in.
The Outer Castle was a busy place, full of people hurrying between workshops, or just hurrying generally, far more chaotic than Springvale. Brownmen and Greenmen and uniformed men and women of the infantry made the crowds a colourful mixture. Through the Green Gate, leading to the Inner Castle, I had glimpsed peaceful gardens full of bright summer flowers, and beyond them the towers of the Castle itself. Through the Yellow Gate, I found myself going down a flight of stairs to a long corridor lit by electric lighting.
Two servants dressed in blue appeared from a side-room and instructed me to come in. They were an elderly couple, their attitude friendly but professional. The old woman wore a pale blue corset and matching thigh-length skirt, and sheer blue stockings. Only the high-heeled, calf-length leather boots were not blue. The old man wore the same, though his corset shaped him differently. Both were shaved quite bald.
"Please undress," the man said, and once I was naked he proceeded to measure every part of me with his measuring tape, making notes as he did.
"Sit here," the woman said afterwards, and attacked my long, dark hair with scissors. How I hated that, feeling my beloved hair falling to the floor around me. With electric shears, she removed what was left, all except a light fuzz that was finally removed with a shaver. As if that weren't bad enough, she shaved my armpits and then ordered me to lie on the table with my legs spread.
"Why?" I asked, horrified.
"You belong to the Castle now," she said. "Do as you're told, or you will be punished."
Remembering my mother's words, I did as told, and burned with embarrassment as the old woman first lathered up my pubic hair, then shaved it all away. I was left not merely naked, but bare to the skin, and feeling more exposed than ever before in my life. The temptation to run for my life, to escape the Castle and its indignity, had me twitching nervously. Only my certainty that the Yellow Gate would not open for me kept me from trying.
"One last thing," she said, taking a long, thin, round metal device from a plastic wrapper. Before I could ask what it was for, she pushed it into my vagina, with surprisingly little resistance until it nudged against the entry to my womb. I felt a slight pinch, and something penetrating me even further.
"What are you doing?" I gasped, alarmed and thoroughly confused.
"All done," she said, drawing the instrument out smoothly. "This will suppress your body's natural cycle. You shouldn't have any periods from now on."
I couldn't believe my ears. That she had done this to me without explanation, without asking permission, or anything. She had just shoved an IUD into my womb without any preparation.
That, more than anything else, forced me to confront what I had known but not truly understood until then. That I belonged to the Castle. I was less than a servant. I was property. I was a slave. I had, in effect, sold myself into slavery for my family's benefit.
The old man appeared with boots, a box, and a pile of yellow clothing, which he placed on the table. "Please stand," he said, and he lifted from the box a metal belt. A chastity belt.
I backed away fearfully, shaking my head.
The old woman snorted. "You are a virgin, aren't you?" I nodded. "Well," she said, "you'll wear this as long as you're a virgin."
What else could I do? I let them fit the belt to me. It was very snug about my waist, and the shield pulled tight over my now hairless crotch, the chains dividing beneath to leave my ass free. And actually it wasn't uncomfortable at all, just deeply humiliating. Had I known that any of this would happen, no way would I have come to the Yellow Gate. Fucking random men in the brothel had to be more dignified than being shaved and locked into a steel chastity belt. I felt utterly ridiculous.
The corset was something of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it supported my large breasts with surprising comfort. On the other, the constriction of my waist as the old man tightened it, and tightened it, pulling on the laces at my back, was almost more than I could stand.
The yellow stockings went on next, held up by garters that dangled from the corset; then the yellow skirt that only just concealed the tops of my stockings. The chastity belt could no longer be seen, though its firm grip on my crotch could not be ignored.
Finally the boots went on, and they asked me to walk around. I had worn high heels before, but not often, and never while so constrained by belt and corset.
"Follow me," the old woman said, and feeling utterly miserable, and more alone than ever in my life, I followed her along the corridor away from the stairs, deeper into the Castle. I saw more and more servants, some in blue, some in pink, but none in yellow. I was new, and alone in being new. How many of them wore chastity belts, I wondered.
She showed me to my room, or rather my bed in a room to be shared with three other girls, and told to wait. I had been allowed to keep one or two mementos of my former life - photographs of my family - and I put these by my bed. A window looked out onto a courtyard, or an atrium, rather, with a high glass roof. There were lots of servants crossing from doorway to doorway, looking cheerful enough and all except the Greenmen dressed in the same colour-coded uniform.
