‘That’s all we can expect from you for now. Perhaps you will change your attitude further when you learn more about Irontown. You need to be re-educated but you are too old for Gryndstone.’ He looked at Goldsmith. ‘I think this is a case for one to one tutoring by a dedicated master who can keep her secure while introducing her to the truth about slave life in Irontown.’
‘What about young Adam here?’ Goldsmith suggested. ‘He’s proven how clear headed he is and I think he has already established a position of dominance over her.’
Bradawl studied Adam closely. ‘Do you think you’re up to it, young man? It will be a full-time job and will mean moving into the house she is renting to take charge of her. I think this would be best carried out in a domestic location. I know a couple of reliable ex-Gryndstone girls who are between placements at the moment who, if the Mayor approves, could look after the domestic arrangements and give Ms Frobisher a chance to get to know slaves personally.’
‘Of course you could write an article about your experience for the Observer at the same time,’ Goldsmith said. ‘That will reassure the public that we have the matter under control and we might also be able to use it to counter some of this IRES propaganda.’
‘I’ll do my best, Sir,’ Adam promised solemnly.
Jane had been listening to this exchange in growing horror. They were giving her to Adam as his personal sex slave! And he was going to write an article for local paper about it! She blurted out: ‘But I don’t want to be tutored or mastered, I just want to be freed!’
Adam acted immediately. He took a spanking paddle from the wall rack and swiped it crisply across her breasts, making them sting and bounce. ‘What word did you forget to use, Jane?’ he demanded.
‘Sir! I don’t want to be mastered, Sir!’ Jane choked out, even as she saw the approving looks on the faces of Goldsmith and Bradawl.
‘And you know that is not possible at the moment unless you give me your solemn word that you will not reveal our secret to anybody outside Shackleswell, Ms Frobisher,’ Goldsmith said. ‘Will you do that?’
‘No, Sir,’ Jane admitted.
‘Then you’ll have to stay here as our guest until you know better. We’ll work out the details later, but for now Adam will take charge of you.’
‘But why do I have to be kept like a naked chained slave, Sir?’ Jane asked.
‘So as best to learn the truth about the thing you so despise,’ Bradawl pointed out. ‘And of course there is no better way to ensure you do not attempt to escape.’
Jane gulped and stared at Adam’s bright intense face. ‘And he’ll be my…’ the word stuck in her throat ‘… my master, Sir?’
‘Yes. He’s already proved he’s fully capable,’ Goldsmith said.
‘But he’s just a young man, Sir!’
‘There’s no reason why a young man can’t have an older woman as his slave,’ Bradawl said. ‘You already know him and have served him. Unless you want us to find some older stranger to take care of you...?’
That was an even worse prospect. Miserably Jane shook her head.
‘Then that’s decided,’ Goldsmith said with satisfaction. ‘Now there’s just the matter of removing those fake stamps and giving you a legitimate identification name and number. Do the honours please, Oliver…’
Bradawl opened up the case he brought with him to reveal a selection of small shiny steel devices, some looking like pliers, an alarming array of needles of different shapes and sizes, ampoules, silver rings, cloths, an ink stamp pad set, blank collar tags, a small hammer and a set of punch stamps and a rack of small glass bottles filled with different fluids.
He chose one of these bottles and applied some its contents to a cloth and then, flipping back Jane’s restraining headband, wiped at the stamp mark on her forehead. The ink came away cleanly. He flipped the chair around to present her belly and then haunches to him and cleaned those as well. Then he said to Goldsmith: ‘what shall we use for a new ID?’
‘Bearing in mind her the special circumstances and talents, I was thinking about a category we’ve never used before. How about BRUSH 01?’
‘Excellent,’ Bradawl said, turning to the stamp pad set and assembling the rubber letters and numbers in a holder to make up a new stamp. He carefully inked it and then pressed it to Jane’s forehead, her stomach just above her shaven pubic mound and across her buttocks above the cleft dividing them. As he worked he told Jane: ‘This ink is properly indelible and will last for months before it needs refreshing. It won’t rub off like the stuff the IRES used.’
Jane shivered as she imagined she could feel the ink seeping into her skin.
He used the hammer and punch stamp set to impress the same characters on a fresh tag and hung it on her collar in place of the false one.
When he was done Bradawl stepped back to admire his work. ‘There, Adam. You’ll be the first master of a BRUSH slave in Irontown’s history.’
Adam looked thrilled. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ he said.
Goldsmith asked: ‘Do you think she should be ringed as well, Oliver?’
‘Yes, I see no reason to hold back. The IRES men already shaved and marked her so we should do it properly. Those are standard cuffs and collars which she can keep on, but she should know exactly what it feels like to be an Irontown slave, with the iron both inside her and without.’
“Ringed?” Jane wondered. ‘Please Sir, what do you mean by ringed?’
Bradawl pushed the gag back into her mouth before he replied. ‘You may have noticed some of the girls in the park had rings in their nipples and labia. It’s commonly done to help control new slaves and remind them of their new status.’ He tweaked Jane’s nipples which were still stubbornly erect. ‘These should take them very nicely and you have fine well-defined labia. There shall be no trouble…’
Jane’s eyes widened and she whimpered and tried to shake her head, but the straps bound about her held her totally immobile. She could only watch in horror as Bradawl took out disinfectant swabs from the box and clean her nipples and pubic lips with them. Then he clamped a pair of tong-like devices to her nipples which had aligned slots in their centre of their jaw tips.
He said: ‘Adam, while I’m ringing her I want you to steadily rub her clitoris. She should learn to respond your touch as soon as possible. It will give her something to distract her from the pain and it will also teach her that it is possible to experience both it and pleasure at the same time.
‘That’s very clever, Sir,’ Adam said eagerly.
Adam moved round out of Bradawl’s way and reached between Jane’s legs and began to massage her clitoris, which responded by throbbing and swelling. Jane whimpered and squirmed and then felt a surge of desperate pleasure flowing into her loins.
Bradawl showed Jane a slender padlock with a ringlike hoop. ‘I’ll fit standard labial and nipple locks to begin with,’ he told her. ‘They all work on a common key so they can be changed for other fittings when needed.’
He fitted a thick short needle to a handle with a guide flange that engaged with the jaws of the clamps, which by now had numbered her nipples slightly under their pressure. The needle was coated with a translucent film.
‘In the past we had to wait weeks for piercings to heal with keepers in them before we fitted full rings. Now these bioplastic sheathes coated with local anaesthetic coagulant seal the sides of the fistulas as they are cut so you can be ringed and used right away, then they gradually dissolve as you heal…’
He bent over her right breast and Jane shrieked and bit on her gag as the cold steel drove through her nipple. Bradawl slid the open end of the padlock ring back through the tiny passage as the bodkin withdrew, leaving its protective sheath in place, and clicked it shut. Now the small padlock hung freely from her hard throbbing nipple. A small trickle of blood ran down the shivering undercurve of her breast which he mopped up. Then he repeated the process on her left nipple. As the padlock ring dangled from it tears from her cheeks splashed onto the upper slopes. Adam redo
ubled his massaging of her hard clitoris and her sobs became groans.
Bradawl flipped the chair around so that Jane’s naked groin was facing upwards. Adam adjusted his position so could continue his intimate ministrations.
‘That’s good, just keep your finger out of the way,’ Bradawl told him.
‘She’s getting very wet Sir,’ Adam observed, holding up his finger to show it was shiny with her juices.
As Jane cringed inwardly, sick with pain and acute shame, Bradawl said: ‘Yes, even though they resist and cry they can’t help being aroused at the same time. It’s perfectly natural…’
Bradawl used a thicker needle to drive holes through her inner labia level with the mouth of her vaginal passage, and then a curved needle to penetrate the thick flesh of her outer labia, aligning it with them. Jane shrieked and sobbed as the needles stabbed through her most sensitive flesh while Adam rubbed her clitoris ever harder, which by now felt as if it was ready to burst.
Bradawl slid a pair ring padlocks through her right pair of labia and then her left.
‘Of course they can be used to pull you open wide or linked closed so you can’t be penetrated unless the person who has the key allows it,’ he told her.
Jane heard them click shut and knew it was done. Now the iron truly was on her and in her…
And then it was all too much to take any more. What they had done to her was cruel and inhuman and she just wanted to escape…
Ahhhhh!
Jane shrieked and shuddered and strained against the imprisoning chair, making its clips rattle and straps creak as a monstrous orgasm tore through her and she sprayed her orgasmic juices over Adam’s masterful finger.
And then, burning with pain and shame, she did escape… into the warm embrace of post orgasmic unconsciousness.
Chapter Four
Adam chose to walk Jane back to the furnished house she been renting – the one the IRES men had snatched her from less than eighteen hours earlier – instead of accepting Goldsmith’s offer of the use of an official car. It took three quarters of an hour but he thought it would give Jane a chance to settle in to her new status. Goldsmith and Bradawl had agreed. Goldsmith had also ordered a spare house key to be sent over from the letting agents for Adam to use and initiated other arrangements to make his stay as her master/tutor comfortable and aid his programme of her re-education.
They might have been right about the walk, Jane conceded after a while. The anonymity of the afternoon streets was a relief. All she had to do was concentrate on following a few paces behind Adam on the end of the invisible radio chain coupled to her pussy.
She was clad once more in her grey coat and boots scarf and headband, while the split ball gag was discreetly clamped about her tongue. To a stranger she must have appeared perfectly ordinary, perhaps a little flushed about the cheeks and preoccupied with something. They could not have known how acutely aware as she was of the fresh characters stamped indelibly on her flesh, or how her new ringed nipples were throbbing hard beneath her coat or the new rings felt padlocked to her labia. The radio chain plug unit had little hooks on its base which fastened to them, holding it even more intimately up inside her. She felt her juices running about the dildo in her vagina and down the insides of her thighs.
Inside her mind her thoughts were a whirl of shame and confusion. How could she have cum like that with Adam’s finger on her clitoris and Bradawl snapping shut those rings about her pussy lips! And then fainted! It made her seem like some kind of pain slut. Was there something wrong with her? Perhaps it was simply that she was exhausted. After all she had hardly slept last night. Yes that must be it. She was so tired. If only she could sleep then perhaps it would all make sense tomorrow. Unfortunately her day was not over yet…
***
Number 14 Old Tannery Lane was a neat, modest three-bedroom detached house in a quiet tree-lined residential street which must have been built around the middle of the last century. Most importantly to Jane when she had chosen it was it’s large rear conservatory which she could use as a studio that looked out on a long narrow high-walled garden with flower borders, a small shed and a few mature fruit trees.
Adam opened up the front door and Jane followed him into the small hallway and then through to the sitting room and kitchen. She was relieved to see everything appeared as she had left it. The IRES men were not burglars and had only been interested in taking her away with them. Nevertheless the memory of their intrusion made her shiver.
However Adam did not give her a chance to dwell on it.
After looking round the ground floor and assessing what the house offered he seemed to come to a decision. ‘My first rule is that unless I give you permission you do not wear clothes inside this house,’ he told her.
Meekly Jane stripped off her clothes and stood shivering naked before him. She was acutely aware of her freshly ringed nipples and labia and the sharp crisp black lettering across her forehead, lower stomach and the slopes of her buttocks marking her as an Irontown slave.
Instinctively she glanced at the windows, worried that somebody might see her from outside, and then she realized that a detail about the house that she had hardly noticed before now made sense. All its lower window panes that were visible from the street side were either pebble glass or frosted, serving the same purpose as net curtains but more effectively. How many other slaves had lived in this house before her?
‘Open your mouth,’ he commanded and she obeyed. He pulled the ball clamp off her tongue.
‘Turn around, bend over, spread your legs and pull your bottom cheeks open so I can take out the wireless chain,’ he commanded.
With a shudder Jane obeyed, exposing herself to him so that he could conveniently remove the device.
He held up in front of her. ‘When the other equipment arrives you’ll find spare batteries, wipes and lubricating grease to take care of this. After every use you will wash it clean and leave it together with your outdoor clothes in the hallway ready for use. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she said.
‘I’m officially your Master now,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes… Master,’ she said miserably.
Her master! A boy almost half her age. But he seemed so confident and self assured. Were all Irontown men like that? Did they grow up knowing how to dominate slave women?
He looked her over carefully and sniffed. ‘Would you like to have a shower and freshen yourself up?’ he asked.
The prospect of a shower suddenly seemed the most wonderful thing she could wish for. She could wash off all the dirt and grime, both real and imagined, that those people who had used her in the park had left on her.
‘Yes, Master,’ she said with almost pathetic gratitude.
***
Of course she had not realized that she would wash with Adam watching everything she did. What must it look like? A sharp-eyed young man standing over a naked woman twice his age as she sat with her head bowed in shame on the toilet. Did he have some special page in his slave spotter’s book for observing women peeing? This would be twice now.
‘Open your legs wide,’ he commanded. ‘You must remember that you don’t hide anything from me. You will empty your bowels at least once a day. It is my responsibility that you stay healthy now, do you understand?’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘They’ll be a device coming which will allow you to keep your bottom flushed out clean. You will keep your rectum clean and greased at all times. The slave maids’ headmaster Bradawl is sending will show you how to do it properly.’
Jane felt sick. ‘My bottom, Master?’’
‘For when I want to use it for anal sex, of course.’
Jane shuddered. ‘Yes, Master.’
Then he watched her under the shower to be sure she shampooed and scrubbed herself properly.
‘They’ll be special fabric wipes coming which you can thread underneath your collar and cuffs so you can keep the skin there clean and dry,’ he explai
ned.
Despite herself Jane could not help saying: ‘They think of everything, Master.’
‘We’ve had over a hundred and fifty years in Shackleswell to learn how to take care of slave girls,’ he said simply.
***
When she was clean and dry he clipped the old leather leash he had brought with him to her collar and then led her out into the back garden.
For a moment Jane hung back acutely conscious of her nudity and fearing that somebody would see her. But the high walls of the garden and the spacing between it and the houses on either side meant that all she could see about her were rooftops. Was this another detail of Irontown construction to allow slaves to go naked in their gardens?
Adam seemed to take great pleasure in walking her about the garden with her on the end of her leash trailing after him. And then she realized that he was continuing the process of training her to follow obediently in his footsteps.
‘Whatever else we do I’ll make sure you get plenty of fresh air and exercise every day,’ he assured her.
‘Thank you, Master,’ Jane said miserably.
Adam frowned at her dull response. ‘Or I could chain you up in a corner in the cellar and beat you and feed you scraps for a month.’
‘No, Master!’ Jane replied fearfully.
‘Then sound more grateful when I show proper concern for your health and well-being,’ Adam warned her.
‘Yes, Master,’ Jane said sincerely, then added meekly: ‘I haven’t had much practice at being a slave.’
‘And I haven’t had much practice to being a master,’ Adam replied. ‘But I’m determined to make good job of it.’
And Jane believed him.
***
A little later Jane was in the conservatory showing Adam, at his request, her art materials and the sketches and reference photograph she had taken of the subjects she had planned to paint around Shackleswell. It felt slightly surreal to do so while naked but it did give her something else to think about.
Adam seemed genuinely appreciative. ‘You really are very good, Brush,’ he said, deliberately using her new slave name. ‘You don’t see many female artists who can capture the feel of industrial construction and machinery so nicely. I hope you’ll be able to finish these.’
Irontown 3 Page 5