Irontown 1: Student Maids

by Adriana Arden

  The rods meant they could be left to work with minimal supervision and work they did. Their faces were shiny from their exertions and the tang of their sweat hung in the otherwise fresh air, together with the spicy scent of female arousal. Hours of physical activity with a plug up their rears and a padlock hanging from their pussies must be stimulating. Was that some compensation or a cruel torment? No, it was just the Shackleswell way.

  Suddenly Mel felt overwhelmed by the scale of the place. This had to be wrong. She could not blame Bolt for wanting to escape. Maybe she would go with her if she got up the nerve. However for now none of them had any choice but to play the part of a servile slave girls.

  Bradawl led them across the platform bridges to a small office set in one corner of the station signposted: GYNATON SUPERVISOR. Here they were introduced to a Mr Wimble, a comfortable middle-aged man in a dark blue uniform who beamed at them genially as they knelt with thighs submissively spread before his desk.

  ‘Latest batch for road testing, eh, Mr Bradawl? Nice looking girls. Well, we’re all ready for them.’

  He led the way along the platforms to a waiting area. There was a small coffee shop, a newsagents, some dispensing machines and a door leading to the men’s lavatories. There was a sign on the door saying: Closed for Maintenance. Wimble led them inside. Mel felt sudden absurd thrill of trespassing on forbidden territory. In the lobby between the outer and inner doors were three booths with curtained fronts. Inside each booth was a small rectangular upright cage with a gap in the top of its front face, protected by a curved grille. Mounted on the side of each cage was a box with a coin slot in it. A sign over the booths said simply: £2.00 ORAL.

  Mel felt her stomach begin to knot.

  ‘Here we are, our stand-up fast service booths,’ Wimble said. ‘All our toilets have them. A lot of men come in here for a little quick relief while they’re waiting for a train. Of course we serve local passengers from the mainline station upstairs as well, so business it usually pretty brisk.

  ‘Now today you’ll be taking the place of three of our regular girls. You’ll be locked in these cages, which as you can see have a gap large enough to pass your head through. Your duty is to give oral relief to any man who’s paid his money and stands before you. That’s simple enough, but there are a couple of things designed to keep you on your toes. Let’s get you inside and you’ll see for yourselves…’

  The cages opened at the back so they could clamber in. Their arms were left cuffed behind them but their gags were pulled out. There was a thigh-deep well let into the floor of the cage with a funnel across its centre. They slid their legs down on either side of this so they could stand upright. Mel felt rubber padding under her feet. When the rear doors of the cages were shut they were pressed against the front bars. They ducked their heads through the round padded apertures let into the top front of the cages and found they were now at about groin height. The visor-like grilles hung in front of their faces and they were connected to the coin boxes by short rods.

  There were two smaller gaps in the bars below their heads large enough for their breasts to hang through. They were rimed with thick rubber cuffs plugged into hoses than ran down into the floor. Wimble adjusted the cuffs for each of them until their breasts were snugly collared and bulged invitingly. Their school ties he pulled through the bars and hung prominently between them. Then he stood back so each of them could see him through the open fronts of their booths, though they could no longer see each other.

  ‘When a man stands on the mat in front of you and puts his coins in the slot the grille flips up and stays there until he steps off again. The funnels between your legs are for peeing in and there’s a drinking tube inside the visors. That way you can stay in there all day quite with no trouble. Rest against the bars if you want to take the weight off your feet.’

  Mel supposed it was a better way of getting their heads down to cock level than forcing them to kneel for hours on end, but it would still be hard work.

  ‘Now there are notices posted about the station advertising you’re here but when a man walks through that door you must sell yourselves. Some men might come in and put their cock straight in your mouth because they know what they want, but the others who only came in for a pee you’ve got to entice and beg to use you. There’s an incentive to have as many customers as you can per hour because the more men you serve the more comfortable you’ll stay.

  ‘That mat they stand on in front of the cages is a pressure plate connected to a two-way valve and a hydraulic header tank. The longer anybody stands on the plate or the more men that stand on it the more oil is pumped back into the tank. When there’s no pressure the oil slowly flows back the other way into those cuffs about your breasts. They have inner tubes with metal pins on that are slowly pressed out through the outer layers and into your boobies. Actually they’ll help because a little pain on a pretty face excites the customers.

  ‘Well, that’s about all. Oh, you’ll get no other food while you’re in the cages except sperm, so you make the most of it. Anything you want to add, Mr Bradawl?’

  ‘Just try your best and maintain the school name. I’ll be back to collect you at six o’clock tonight.’

  Wimble went along the booths turning a key in the coin boxes. ‘Now the valves are open. I’ll take the sign off the door and you can get ready for your first customers.’ He and Bradawl went out.

  Mel imagined she could already feel the collars tightening about her breasts.

  She heard Cam moan: ‘How can I beg to suck a man off? It was easier with the boys in the park. They just did what they wanted. But asking for it…’

  Mel realised that Cam was not outwardly revolted by the physical fact of what she had to do, she was worried that she would be too embarrassed to beg. Of course they’d been trained how to give proper oral pleasure in Sex Tec and they’d all practiced on Mr Stapler’s cock. Yet what did that say about what Gryndstone was turning them into? Three caged girls in school ties pleading to fellate any man for a modest fee outside a gentlemen’s lavatory. Was that sick prostitution or simple basic slave-economy business? No, it was just everyday life in Shackleswell.

  Before Mel could find words of encouragement for Cam, Bolt said: ‘Course you can beg. Anyway they’ll love it if you act shy. You’ve got the right sort of face.’

  It was not bad advice. Maybe it was just Bolt playing her part as a supportive chain-sister but it helped.

  The door swung open and man strode in.

  ‘Please master,’ they said, ‘oral for just two pounds…’

  Mel did not really see any men for the rest of the day. With a few exceptions they were really just a progression of differently shaped and flavoured penises thrust into her mouth that she had to milk dry. Some said nothing and just put their coin in the slot and pushed their cocks at her mouth like she was simply part of the machine. Even when she got into conversation with others, which was clearly part of the excitement for some, she rarely took in any features.

  ‘That’s so big, Master! Please be gentle…’

  He took her by the hair, pried her jaws wide and pushed the head of his shaft between her lips. ‘You can take it, girl. One big swallow…’

  She choked and gasped as he forced it down her.

  ‘That’s it, right to the hilt. Oh, are your eyes bulging? Do you want to breathe?’

  Mel nodded frantically. He pulled out just enough for her to suck in some air round his shaft. ‘Thank you, master,’ she gasped pitifully.

  He plunged into her until her eyes bulged again.

  It was verging on cruelty and yet her pussy was dripping into her pee funnel.

  A thin, nervous, spotty young man used her, fumbling the coin into the slot and then jabbing his slender cock into her mouth. She felt sorry for him and tried to make it as pleasurable as possible, rolling her eyes helplessly up at him with her best puppy desperate to please gaze. He came in frantic spurts that she licked up with a show of delight.

&nb
sp; ‘Oh… that’s so nice and sweet and hot, Master,’ she said huskily.

  He smiled with pitiful gratitude and then scuttled out. It was probably the highlight of his week.

  ‘Across the balls and then up the shaft again...’ the plump man who liked to direct her every move commanded. ‘That’s right… now under the foreskin… yes… uhh… Ready to catch it… ahhhh… splendid… yes, gobble it all down like a good girl.’ He patted her head as she licked him clean. ‘You’ve got a fine tongue on you.’

  ‘Thank you, Master,’ Mel said indistinctly.

  ‘Good to see Gryndstone standards have not dropped. I must make a note of your part number. If you’re ever on the market I’d put in a bid for you.’

  ‘You’re very kind, Master.’

  How wonderful, Mel thought dizzily, he wants to buy me. Still that was high praise indeed from somebody who was clearly a fellatio connoisseur.

  Hour in and hour out, Mel sucked, licked, lapped and tongued everything that was put in her mouth.

  When there was a longer gap between customers and the cuffs about her breasts began to prick Mel found she had no shame left.

  ‘Please let me suck you, Master! I really need a lovely hard cock in my mouth right now. Please, for the sake of my tits. They’re nice, aren’t they but there are pins sticking in them. Please make them go away. I’ll drink it all down, really I will. You can push it right down my throat…’

  From the booths on either side of her she heard Bolt and Cam making similar desperate promises. It was a very long day.

  When the Headmaster finally came back for them they could hardly speak, their jaws ached, their throats were sore and they were slightly nauseous from swallowing so much sperm. Wimble counted the money in their coin boxes and declared they had done nearly as well as their regular girls, which was highly satisfactory for first timers. Bradawl led them home stiff-legged, exhausted and frustrated. It had been impossible not to get aroused in the presence of so many erections, but there had been no chance to orgasm. At least they were give ice cream for tea as a special treat.

  They went to bed that night only able to converse in whispers. They had been both stimulated and drained and yet physically, except for their jaws, they had not been much exercised. In the dim red nightlight they huddled together restlessly, unable to sleep.

  ‘Well, I suppose it wasn’t so bad after the first twenty cocks,’ Cam croaked and they all chucked.

  ‘I think today we got a real taste of Shackleswell,’ Mel said.

  The others groaned.

  Then Bolt said almost shyly: ‘Actually, I brought something from the rec room. I was wondering if you might want to use them, as we’re all a bit wired and didn’t get off at all…’

  From under the corner of the mattress she pulled out a pair of double-ended dildos.

  ‘It’s just an idea,’ she added defensively. ‘It’s the sort of thing the other girls do. If you two don’t want to...’

  In the dim light Mel saw Bolt looking anxious. There was no need for her to put on an act for them. She sensed Bolt really wanted this. Maybe playing her new role had given her an excuse to soften up. It must have been tough being a hard bitch and ignoring everybody for so long. Whatever the motive the suggestion was tempting. Despite all the intimacies forced on them in lessons they had never made voluntary love. Suddenly that seemed absurd.

  ‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Cam said. ‘We deserve something just for us after sucking all those cocks.’ She looked at Mel. ‘If you do.’

  ‘Oh yes. I don’t know why we haven’t done it before.’

  ‘Because I’d have made you feel like pervs,’ Bolt suggested, then added quickly: ‘But now that’s changed, right?’ She took a deep breath and offered them dildos. ‘You do what you want, but I could really do with a good hard screw.’

  ‘I think we can manage that,’ Mel said.

  They took the dildos and fed the ends up into their wet and hungry sheathes, popping the securing lugs through their pussy rings. Then they embraced Bolt and kissed her on her lips, her swollen ringed nipples and hot pulsing sex. Bolt trembled but let them handle her between them. She was surrendering some of her hard independent pride to admit she wanted this.

  They mounted her from front and rear, pushing their play cocks up her vagina and rectum until she was deeply, lovingly, plugged. Then the beast with three backs rolled ecstatically about the mattress in a happy frenzy of passionate coupling.

  Whatever had gone before and whatever lay ahead things would be different between them from now on.

  The quality of Mel’s immediate social life might have been improving but relations with her distant family were getting more strained.

  Her parents were replying less often to her messages, seemingly resigned to the fact that Mel was not coming back home soon. They informed her that they were telling family and friends that Mel had decided to take a year off before going to college to travel around and “find herself”. Mel despaired that her parents seemed to be trying harder to cover up her shameful secret than rebuild their relationship with her.

  Maddy replied to every mail but she was beginning to ask awkward questions.

  ‘Why can’t you tell me where you’re staying? And what do you do? How are you earning a living…’

  Mel hated sending back evasive or noncommittal replies, but she could hardly admit the reality of her life. ‘Well actually I’ve just been sucking fifty men off in a secret underground station…’

  After three more days of regular lessons Mel, Cam and Bolt went for their second work experience day at Shackleswell Central. Bradawl took them down to Gryndstone Halt platform chained in a coffle with fobs on their collars showing they were on day release from school. He reminded them of the train times and said he would be waiting for them that evening. The train pulled in and he saw them aboard and watched as it pulled away. Mel felt a strange thrill at being sent off unescorted. It was an adventure different to roaming about in the park. Chained together as they were they had no choice where they should go, but that did not seem to matter.

  They arrived at the station on time and reported to Mr Wimble.

  He rubbed his hands together. ‘Now in Shackleswell we take pride in being a clean and tidy town and down here’s no different. So today you’re going to be helping to keep the station clean but not with mops and brooms. We use proper Rowland designed machines…’

  Mel shuffled along the station platform cleaning diligently as she went. Between the legs of passing passengers she glimpsed Bolt and Cam working their assigned platforms in the same way.

  The passengers milled around Mel as they headed for the stairs or ran for trains hardly giving her a second glance. She was just a naked gynaton doing her job. The only passengers who did look at her were what she now recognised as off-duty slave girls in their grey coats and boots, who smiled and sometimes showed a twinkle of pussy rings between their legs. They understood what she was feeling. A few days ago she might have sucked the cocks of some of the men passing her by and now she was on her hands and knees vacuuming up the dirt from their shoes and they probably did not recognise her. Did that make her anonymous or versatile?

  Mel was now intimately conjoined with the Gynavac Mark 5, the latest version of one of Rowland’s original domestic designs. Its mechanical parts bore a slight resemblance to an upright cylinder and hose-style vacuum that in the rest of the country trundled about on small wheels and was given a cartoonish face and a friendly name. This being Shackleswell the Gynavac did not need humanising and its living power source provided a real and far more expressive face.

  Mel towed behind her its flattened upright drum mounted on a tripod of rubber wheels that was slim enough to fit between her splayed lower legs. Her ankle cuffs were clipped to levers extending down from the top of the drum that powered the bellows that created the suction. Strapped to her shins from knee to extended toe tips were padded boards, to the undersides of which were fastened a row of three narr
ow rubber wheels like inline skates with buffing cloth sidebars. This arrangement allowed her to shuffle her legs rapidly back and forth without moving the drum and so pump the bellows.

  The brush hose extended from the lower front of the drum and was slung under her body, supported by sleeves hooked to her labial rings, stretching her lips. Where the hose passed between her dangling breasts the supporting sleeve hooks were clipped to her nipple rings. The hose plugged into a short tube on the end of which was mounted the wide brush head. The upper end of the tube had a rubber ball cap that was plugged into Mel’s mouth, also forming an effective gag. A sprung cord that hooked to the back ring of her collar counterbalanced the weight of the brush head. The other end of the cord was fastened to a short vertical bracing rod extending from the top of the drum.

  Polishing cloths with rubber heels were strapped to Mel’s hands, allowing her to pull herself and the gynavac along. It was hard work but it had its compensations. She towed the device by means of a horizontal bar fastened two-thirds the way up the forward face of the drum with an expanding rubber plug on the end that was sunk into her anus. This bar had a second lower curved arm the tip of which slipped between the distended lips her labia as they helped support the hose and rubbed against her clitoris. This arm transmitted the vibrations of the bellows as she pumped them with her legs to her own pulsating pleasure nub. It was a powerful incentive to work as hard as she could.