Jane shuddered. ‘Yes, Master.’
‘Now feed her and then make sure she cleans herself up properly so that she’s fit to go out,’ he told the girls. ‘We’ll be going to see the Mayor again this morning.’
They turned Jane over and lifted her up until she was resting against the head of the bed. They tucked a napkin into her collar and fed her coffee and porridge and toast and fruit juice. She was a naked slave being fed by other naked slaves while her young master read a paper and chewed on a slice of toast. They looked to be only a few years older than Adam and so still well over ten years younger than she was. How demeaning could this get?
As she was fed she glanced at Adam eating his breakfast while apparently engrossed in his paper. It looked so old fashioned. Young men did not do that nowadays, and certainly not with three naked women around him. Or maybe they did in Shackleswell. Or perhaps he was just trying to impress her. She did not know. There was so much she did not know…
When she was fed Adam freed her from the bed and un-cuffed her wrists and ankles and Bolt and Cam took her through to the bathroom. They stood over her as she used the toilet and its new slave flushing lid, and then showered and cleaned her teeth and applied make-up. It was too uncomfortable to have them watching her in silence as she flushed Adam’s sperm out of her rectum, so she tried to strike up a conversation. It was not hard to find a subject…
‘Are you going to watch me sit on the toilet every morning?’ she asked with her cheeks burning. ‘It’s embarrassing.’
‘Only until you learn how to do it right,’ Bolt said.
Jane realized her nipples were standing up hard so that the rings locked through them hung free of her breasts. She put her hands across them, still getting used to the strange feeling. ‘Don’t they ever come down?’ she asked in despair.
‘Nope,’ Bolt said with a grin, glancing down at her own prominent ringed nipples which were standing out like brown thimbles.
‘I know it all feels strange at first but you’ll get used to it,’ Cam said. ‘We did.’
‘You’re not natives then?’ Jane asked. ‘I mean you didn’t grow up like this?’
‘No, we were brought here as part of the Irontown rehabilitation scheme.’
‘So you were…’
‘Bad girls,’ Bolt said with a disarming grin.
‘Well, pretty messed up girls,’ Cam qualified.
Despite her own worries there was a terrible fascination in talking to slave girls and there were so many questions she wanted to ask. ‘And were you and Bolt also… um… lovers before you came here? Oh… I can’t keep calling you “Cam” and “Bolt”. What are your real names?
‘These are our real names,’ Bolt said simply. ‘Good, useful Irontown part names. They mean that we serve a purpose here.’
‘It shows we’re valuable,’ Cam said, with a steely look in her pretty eyes that defied Jane to pursue the question further.
‘Of course,’ Jane said quickly. ‘So… were you lovers before you came here?’
‘No. We learned about all that at Gryndstone.’ Bolt said. ‘They teach you how to be proper slaves there.’
‘You mean they teach you to be lesbians?’
‘No, they teach you how to be happily bisexual,’ Cam said. ‘And properly submissive to men, of course.’
‘That’s horrible,’ Jane said. ‘How can you live like this?’
‘Pretty well,’ Bolt said.
‘Does that mean that your old lives were so bad that living like this is better?’
‘I suppose it does,’ Cam said simply.
‘I’m sorry for you…’
‘Don’t be,’ Bolt said with a grin. ‘We’re doing fine. You’re the one who looks miserable.’
Jane felt that was unfair. ‘Can you blame me? In the last day I’ve been stripped and given electric shocks and exposed in public and screwed and beaten and pierced and made into a slave!’
‘We were pierced and stamped and pussy shocked and screwed on our first day,’ Bolt retorted, ‘but we learned it was the only way to get our lives straight.’
‘Maybe that was true if you’d already had screwed up lives… sorry, but my life wasn’t. It isn’t! It’s good!’
‘Then who’s missing you right now?’ Bolt asked.
‘What?’
‘Who do you belong to who really cares about you?’ Cam asked. ‘Who are you desperate to see and talk to right now more than anybody?’
This response disconcerted Jane and she spluttered for a moment before saying: ‘Nobody… I mean I don’t belong to anybody. I belong to myself of course. I like what I do and I’m independent and successful. I’ve got friends but I do what I want when I want. Nobody tells me what to do.’
Bolt shook her head. ‘I thought that was the only way to live once. To be totally my own boss and taking orders from no one. Then I found it was nicer to belong to something, to be part of something bigger and more important than I was.’
‘You learn that Irontown is much bigger and more important than all of us,’ Cam said with breathy delight, her nipples pricking up in excitement as she spoke.
***
Half an hour later, with Jane dressed in her slave coat, her mouth plugged by her tongue ball and with the wireless chain plugged into her once more, Adam led her along Old Tannery Lane and then down another road until they came to an inconspicuous side path that led to a nondescript small square brick structure marked with a small sign that read: OLD TANNERY SGR and Permit Holders Only.
‘That helps keep out strangers,’ Adam explained as he led her through the door into a landing at head of a series of flights of stairs that descended a square shaft for a good thirty feet. ‘Not that there are many in this part of town.’
At the bottom of the stairs was a short tunnel with an arched roof lined by white tiles and lit by strip light.
Here Adam paused while he took the leather leash out of his pocket. ‘Open your coat and use the belt to tie it back,’ he commanded.
Jane obeyed, gathering the coat up behind her and tying the ends of the belt together so that her naked front was exposed from her collar to her boot tops, with her breasts framed by the parted collar of her coat. He unclipped her pussy rings from the base of the wireless chain unit only to hook the leash through them. Then he pushed up her sleeves and clipped her wrists behind her. He gave the leash a tug which stretched her labia and made her eyes water.
‘We’re going to be travelling with Irontown people who’ll have their own slaves with them, so you will be good, won’t you?’ he asked.
Jane hated him for treating her like this even as she felt a shameful hot tingle in her loins in which fear and arousal were mingled. She was tethered by her most sensitive flesh. She nodded meekly. Yes, she would be very good.
The tunnel opened out into what looked like a small underground station with a platform opening onto a loop of track offset from a straight mainline to allow through trains to pass stopping trains.
There was a small ticket office next to several wire mesh bins and trolleys loaded with assorted packages. Next to them were a couple of low wooden hutch-like structures, like large dog kennels. A dozen other people were already waiting on the platform. A couple had naked slave girls on leashes. There was a sign on the wall that read: OLD TANNERY STATION. CENTRAL LINE
Despite her shameful exposure Jane looked about her with interest and surprise. She did not know Shackleswell had its own underground system.
The rails were of a very narrow gauge and the mouths of tunnels at either end were hardly tall enough to stand upright in and certainly too small to take regular trains. But there were no electric power rails. What sort of trains could run along such lines? .
Then echoing out the right-hand tunnel there came the smooth clack wheels on the track, slowing as they got closer. A low-slung train emerged and pulled off the main line across a set of points onto the platform loop and came to a halt.
It was pulling five small low
, lightweight, open carriages. Four had solid sides and rows of comfortable double seats half full of people. An end carriage with railing sides was pilled with baggage and contained a guard with a peaked cap, flag and whistle, who sat on a small fold-down seat. He got out as the train came to a halt and snapped his fingers at the kennels facing the platform.
A pair of near naked slave girls emerged from them like dogs. They wore small peaked caps and solid but highly polished black working shoes, which contrasted strangely with their nudity. They trailed long tensioned chains behind them that were fastened to rings protruding from between their buttocks. One girl took charge of a loaded trolley and rolled it across to the train while the other rolled across an empty trolley. Under the supervision of the guard one unloaded a selected pile of boxes from the train while the other put goods from her trolley on board.
This slavish labour was bad enough to watch, but Jane’s attention was fixed in horror and disbelief on the train’s “engine”.
It was mostly an open cylindrical metal frame a little like the boiler of an old-fashioned steam engine. Within it a pair of sturdy young naked women lay side by side and face down strapped to padded trays beneath their chests and stomachs. They and the engine frame rested on four rail wheels with the front pair being smaller than the rear. The women’s arms were stretched out in front of them as if to brace themselves and their wrists were cuffed to the front of the engine frame that carried buffers, couplings and lamps. Their feet rested on bicycle-like pedals, to which their ankles were cuffed, and these were geared to the rear set of driving wheels. Behind them sat the driver in a traditional flat cap and coveralls in an open cab above the rear drive wheels. He had some simple controls in front of him that connected to the wheels, gears and his living engines. Some of these control rods passed between the legs and strong, sweaty, upturned buttocks of the two women, which Jane noticed were a bright scarlet…
Adam gave Jane’s leash a jerk and they clambered onto the train and took their seats.
The slave girl porters finished their work and withdrew from the train, their anal chains reeling back into their kennels as they did so. The guard blew a whistle and waved his flag and then clambered back on board. The driver worked his controls, driving rods into the groins of his living flesh engines. Their buttocks and thighs bunched and the pedals began to turn and the train pulled smoothly and silently off. It gathered speed slowly but steadily and in a few seconds it had plunged into the tunnel, which was lit by a string of electric lamps.
As they sped along Adam grinned at the expression on Jane’s face, which mirrored her confused thoughts of naked flesh and iron rails.
‘SGR stands for Slave Girl Railway,’ he explained. ‘It was all designed and built according to the principles Rowland laid down. Because underground trains can be kept small, lightweight and open with shallow gradients, a few girls properly geared to the driving wheels can pull a lot of weight.’
Jane look horrified and shook her head.
‘Of course it shocks you but it works,’ Adam insisted. ‘It’s efficient, clean and safe, just like the rest of Shackleswell. We’ve no need for CCTV cameras here. We’ve got the lowest levels of crime in the country.’
In her head Jane retorted: Apart from visiting artists being kidnapped and publically violated and humiliated of course.
***
However she had to admit that the girl powered train did carry them to their destination rapidly and efficiently. In less than ten minutes their train emerged into a large space under a series of interlocking domes supported by heavy columns. Daylight was reflected down through large bull’s-eye skylights set in the apex of each dome.
Signs read: SHACKLESWELL CENTRAL.
Jane gaped at it in wonder.
A dozen railway lines emerged from tunnel mouths into the station and then merged, branched and crossed over each other via a maze of points and diamond crossings, all controlled by small semaphore arm signals. Several small arched footbridges crossed the tracks linking the platforms with signal boxes, sheds and workshops. There was a goods yard handling larger items of freight, some of which was being stacked in sheds and under awnings. She glimpsed naked slave girl flesh of all hues working about them. Opposite this was the passenger terminus where passengers alighted and boarded more of the girl-powered trains
Their train drew up at a platform and everybody climbed out. As they did so the baggage car was unloaded by more slave girl porters. In addition to their tiny porter hats, they had on thick gloves and heavy boots but were otherwise naked, shaven, ringed, collared, cuffed and stamped as she was. There must have been forty or fifty of them in all visible across the station.
For a moment it seemed to Jane that they were working perfectly freely and with minimal supervision, but as Adam led her across the platform she saw with a shudder that they were still confined. They did not use chains like the girl porters at old Tannery Station, but there were narrow recessed channels set into the platforms in the form of a series of straight tracks and loops which crossed over each other and branched, rather like the railway tracks. Each slave girl had a telescopic rod plugged into her bottom with a short chain linking it to her labial padlock. The base end of the rod was locked into the recessed channel so that it could slide freely along it but did not permit the girl to move more than a few feet to either side of the track laid down for her.
Adam saw her staring at these perverse mechanisms and said: ‘It’s ingenious, isn’t it? It means they can work without hobbles or chains getting in the way.’
Jane felt sick. It was ingenious, yes, but also cruel and perverse.
As they ascended flights of stairs back up to ground level, Adam unclipped her pussy leash and her wrists and she belted up her coat again. He switched his radio controller back on and once more she was joined to him by an invisible chain plugged into her pussy.
They emerged into the middle of Shackleswell only five minutes walk from the Town Hall.
***
Once again Jane was naked inside Mayor Goldsmith’s office.
Adam had had her remove her clothes completely as soon as they had passed beyond the reception area of the building where access was controlled and outsiders could not go. Now she knelt meekly beside his chair with her knees spread as directed and her wrists cuffed behind her back while he held the end of her leash. Her gag ball had been removed but she was under strict instructions to speak only when spoken to.
She struggled to hold still, fighting down her sense of shame and humiliation, wishing that her nipples were not standing up so hard or her pussy feeling quite so hot and sticky, but these terrible padlock rings pierced through her flesh were a continual stimulation.
‘Firstly, can I assure you that we are searching for the IRES men who abducted you, Ms Frobisher,’ Mayor Goldsmith said. ‘Unfortunately according to your own account you could not identify them and they were careful not to leave any traces behind.’
Through gritted teeth Jane said: ‘But if you can’t find them, Sir, then how do you know they won’t attack me again? You can’t keep me here like this if I’m in danger.’
‘They will not do so in public while you are under Adam’s control, Ms Frobisher. That would be foolish, counterproductive and totally against our principles. As to the future I have a proposition to put to you which should not only to make you safe from any further interference by the IRES but also solve the problem of how we handle your presence here and convince you that our society is not the monstrous thing that you imagine it to be.’
‘I came here on your underground slave railway, Sir,’ Jane said, ‘that didn’t convince me of anything good about Irontown.’
‘But surely you admired the engineering efficiency of the system?’
‘Yes, Sir, it’s very clever, but you still can’t abuse women like that!’
‘But they were serving a useful and valuable purpose, couldn’t you see that?’
‘That doesn’t matter, Sir…’
‘Do you deny the value of their labour?’
‘What mattered was that it was degrading and inhumane, Sir.’
‘Did they look unhappy?’
‘Well… I hardly had a chance to ask them, Sir, but they must be.’
‘Must they? We’ll have to change your mind on that score. That is why I propose to give you a commission.’
Jane was momentarily taken aback. ‘A commission…?’
Adam pressed the button on his wireless chain controller and Jane yelped to she felt a stab of pain in her vagina. ‘Remember your manners, Brush,’ he said
‘A commission, Sir?’ Jane hastily corrected herself.
‘Follow me…’ Goldsmith said.
He led the way out of his office with Adam leading Jane on her leash after him.
They made their way along a corridor and down a flight of stairs to another large space Jane had not seen before. It had high windows at one end above a small raised platform and was partitioned by iron grille screens and had chairs arrayed about its sides, but otherwise it was quite empty.
‘This is an area used for corporate receptions and the special presentations,’ Goldsmith explained, leading the way to one of the sidewalls, which was about thirty feet long and ten high and hung with a few paintings of Shackleswell. ‘I’ve always thought that we could do something more with this wall. Therefore I’m offering you a commission to paint a mural celebrating Irontown life on it. And I do mean Irontown life, showing the lives of our slaves and how they interact with its machines and keep the city going.’
Jane was stunned. ‘What?’ She gasped and then yelped as another warning jolt lanced through her rectum and vagina. ‘What… Sir? You mean… like the women working on the railway?’
‘I mean all our slaves everywhere, both at work and play. A celebration of our heritage and traditions showing how flesh and iron are happily merged in Shackleswell.’
‘You really want me to paint that, Sir?’
‘Aren’t you up to the commission?’ Goldsmith asked. ‘The city will pay you a fair fee for your time. I know you’re an artist who appreciates the power of machinery. This should not be beyond you… unless you cannot paint the female human form?’
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