Irontown 3 Page 4

  City Hall was an imposing Victorian building with a tall clock tower rising above its sharply pitched roof tops. Adam led Jane up the sweep of front steps that led to the main entrance and passed through a set of massive studded iron doors and then through a second set of modern sliding inner glass doors into the spacious reception area. A row of trim, efficient looking middle-aged women sat behind the long counter. As they stepped up to it one of them said brightly to Adam: ‘Can I help you, Sir?’

  Adam took a deep breath and then said quietly and clearly: ‘I’m Adam Tamper and this is the artist Jane Frobisher, who’s an outsider. Last night she was kidnapped by the IRES and exposed in the castigorium in Rowland Park, cuffed and marked like a slave. I think I’ve got her out of there without anyone else knowing but I need to take her to Mayor Goldsmith so he can decide what to do next.’

  The receptionist maintained her composure admirably, merely raising an eyebrow and casting a quick glance over Jane. Then she said: ‘Please take a seat, Mr Tamper, and I will contact the Mayor’s office immediately…’

  Jane sat beside Adam in the waiting area, acutely aware of the wireless chain device plugs pressing up into her and feeling her juices staining the lining of her coat. She did not known how long she could sit with such a device inside without making a serious mess. Fortunately they were not kept waiting long. Barely five minutes passed before another trim, smart middle-aged woman appeared and said softly: ‘Mr Tamper, Ms Frobisher… please follow me…’

  She led them to a lift which took them up to the third floor and a long corridor at the end of which was a large office with light oak panelled walls and high windows with frosted lower panes, looking out over the city. A compact, brisk intense man his late forties with keen sharp eyes and greying hair rose from behind a large desk and came round it offering his hand to Adam while casting a quick glance at Jane. She recognized him from their brief meeting a few weeks ago when he welcomed her to Shackleswell and posed together for a photograph illustrating a feature on her for the Shackleswell Observer, when he had told her that he was an admirer of her work. She could never have imagined that their second meeting would be under such very different circumstances.

  ‘How do you do, young man,’ Goldsmith said heartily to Adam. ‘From what I hear you’ve saved the city from considerable disruption today. You must tell me all about it.’

  Adam seemed to swell with pride. ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  Goldsmith turned to Jane and after a momentary hesitation extended his hand to her as well. ‘I’m so sorry for your suffering, Ms Frobisher. All this must be something of a shock to you.’

  Jane made throaty complaining noises as she tried to respond to this gross understatement.

  ‘I had to put a tongue ball clamp on her, Sir,’ Adam explained. ‘If I may…’ He took the clamp off Jane’s tongue.

  Jane licked her stretched dry lips. She still felt a helpless kind of obedience towards Adam, but Goldsmith was just a politician and she felt her suppressed anger rising. ‘A shock!’ she spat. ‘I was kidnapped in the middle of the night by five masked men and put in a collar and cuffs and marked and taken to a public park and stripped and screwed and lashed by that perverted machine and… ahhwwooo!’

  She hunched over, clutching her hands to her groin as the phalluses lodged within her stabbed their hot electric needles into her vagina and rectum.

  ‘I had to put a wireless chain on her, Sir,’ Adam explained, holding up the remote control unit. ‘She was beginning to panic after what she had been through and I thought she needed somebody to take a firm hand with her.’

  ‘Quite right and proper,’ Goldsmith said approvingly.

  ‘Don’t get angry Jane,’ Adam told her as she wiped away fresh tears. ‘You just show the Mayor what they did to you and I’ll explain the rest.’

  Cowed once more Jane obeyed, undoing her coat and taking it off together with her headband, scarf and boots.

  ‘Clasp your hands behind your neck and spread your legs so the Mayor can see you properly,’ Adam commanded and again Jane obeyed.

  Goldsmith’s eyes widened as he saw her collar and cuffs and the false slave name stamped on her flesh, while Jane trembled at this further exposure before another stranger. She felt sick even as her nipples began to tingle and rise. But with Adam holding the control device she was too frightened to do anything else.

  Goldsmith walked around her, examining the false markings from every angle. He could not fail to notice the marks the castigorium machine and the men who had used her had put on her, but he made no comment.

  ‘The ink they use was not regulation, Sir,’ Adam pointed out. ‘That was one reason I knew she was not a proper slave. I’d also spotted the real NAIL 104 a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Ahh, so you’re a slave spotter,’ Goldsmith said reminiscently. ‘I used to spot myself when I was young.’

  ‘Did you, sir?’ Adam said brightly. ‘I’ve written some articles about it but I hope to become a full-time reporter for the Shackleswell Observer.’

  ‘Do you now,’ Goldsmith said approvingly. ‘Well you could start by giving me a verbal report about what you did when you found Ms Frobisher in the castigorium…’

  And Goldsmith resumed his seat behind his desk and Adam took the visitor’s chair before it, leaving Jane standing showing herself off in that humiliating posture. Adam related what he had done in the park while she shuddered, telling herself that they had no right to ignore her like this and she could move if she wanted. But somehow she couldn’t. Moving would draw attention to her, whereas standing here naked and still like a statue was doing what she had been told. And if she did what she was told then she was safe...

  ‘… but when I was preparing her for leaving the park she refused the wireless chain and I had to discipline her with an electric whip,’ Adam admitted.

  ‘That’s quite understandable,’ Goldsmith said.

  ‘Then I used her for my pleasure, Sir,’ Adam confessed. ‘I know she’s not a legal slave but… I just couldn’t help it at that moment.’

  ‘Also quite understandable,’ Goldsmith said easily. ‘She’s a very attractive woman who you had just reduced to tears. I’m sure it helped calm her down and discipline her, which was exactly what she needed at the time. It was just the right thing to do.’

  And so Adam’s whipping her and screwing her up against a tree was dismissed as lightly as that, Jane thought dizzily. Inwardly she seethed with indignation but still she did not move, although she was miserably aware, despite all they had suffered, of her nipples standing up.

  When Adam finished his account Goldsmith thought for a minute and then he picked up his phone and punched a number on speed dial. ‘Oliver… its Ben here. We might have a bit of a situation concerning an outsider female who’s been compromised that I’d like your advice on. The IRES are involved… yes, them again. Could you come round to my office straightaway and bring your usual kit…? You can? Thanks…’ He put the phone down and then turned to consider Jane, looking at her with a frank unabashed directness that made her shiver.

  ‘It’s always awkward having outsiders in residence outside the hotels, Ms Frobisher, but I thought we had found you a suitable house in a quiet street where you could do what you do best. I really was looking forward to seeing what you made of our heritage. Now I’m most sincerely sorry that the IRES chose to target you. I understand young Adam here as explained their motivation. Rest assured that we will do everything we can to track them down and of course we will compensate you for the… inconvenience you have suffered.’

  Jane bit her lip and glanced at Adam, mutely asking his permission to speak. She did not want another jolt from the wireless chain device which still stretched the lips of her sex mouth... and which to her acute shame was feeling hot and slippery.

  ‘You can answer the Mayor, Jane,’ Adam told her, ‘but do remember to be polite this time…’

  Jane struggled to keep her voice level as she attempted to hold a conversati
on while standing naked before a near stranger. ‘You can’t compensate for what those men did to me, Sir, and then what those other people did to me in the Park!’

  ‘Of course that must have been very strange and disturbing,’ Goldsmith agreed, ‘but you must not blame ordinary citizens for taking you for a slave being displayed for disciplining as you appeared to be. They were simply exercising their legal right to make use of you…’

  ‘“Legal right”, Sir!’ Jane exclaimed, struggling not to shout. ‘None of that was legal!’

  ‘It is perfectly legal in Shackleswell,’ Goldsmith gently corrected her.

  ‘Well it shouldn’t be, Sir! This whole setup is… is obscene!’

  Goldsmith looked concerned. ‘Yes, was afraid you would take it like this. Your unfortunate introduction to our society has prejudiced you against our customs.’

  ‘I don’t need to be prejudiced against sex slavery, Sir!’ Jane said. ‘It’s simply wrong!’

  ‘You saw those girls queuing for ice cream and enjoying their day off in the Park, Jane,’ Adam reminded her. ‘Didn’t they look happy?’

  ‘They were still naked slaves, Sir! And there were plenty of others who were leashed and being ridden about on those bike things, like your precious founder!’

  Goldsmith sighed. ‘So I suppose if I was to ask you to promise not to reveal the true nature of Irontown society, Ms Frobisher, you would refuse?’

  ‘Of course I refuse! And you can’t buy me off, Sir. This must end.’

  ‘So the question is what we do with you next, Ms Frobisher. I understand that you are unmarried and at present unattached which helps, but you have relations and a significant public profile outside Shackleswell so you cannot simply disappear.’

  Jane gulped, suddenly feeling terror seeping back into her in place of her righteous indignation: ‘Disappear?’

  Goldsmith laughed. ‘I don’t mean you will be disposed of, Ms Frobisher. We don’t do that kind of thing. But you would have to be contained and monitored until we can convince you to change your mind. But we won’t waste your talents. Shackleswell does not waste anything, far less pretty and capable female flesh. I’ll think of something. But meanwhile we have to process you. Unfortunately you are older than the usual intake and so may not respond to our normal conditioning regimen. That’s why I have called in an expert on female education to give his opinion. Oliver Bradawl is the headmaster of Gryndstone School, which is Irontown’s specialist academy where wanton and disturbed young women are taught to be happy and obedient slaves. Meanwhile I suggest we move you to the confinement room and prepare you for his examination…’

  That menacing word broke the spell she was under and Jane started towards the outer door, just wanting to escape the obscene fate that seemed to be closing about her. But Adam pressed his controller and she shrieked in pain, doubling over and dropping to her knees and clutching at her groin again.

  ‘Just do as you’re told, Jane,’ he warned her.

  Goldsmith rose and opened a side door that led into a smaller room. Miserably Jane got up and followed after him with Adam at her back. The room was lit by a single high window. Its floor was covered in black rubber tiles and its walls were covered with white painted cork tiles. All good sound absorbing materials, Jane thought in despair. They were hung with chains and racks of straps, canes and phallic devices

  In the middle of the room was something that looked a little like a black vinyl covered dentist’s chair mounted on a pedestal with pedal controls on its sides, except that instead of a single column support it had a sturdy upward facing forked mount, the ends of which were pinned into the side frames of the chair seat. Oddly the seat itself had no centre. The headrest, arms and extended leg rests of the chair, which were split down the middle, were fitted with an array of straps and snap hooks.

  ‘Sit in the chair and I’ll secure you,’ Goldsmith said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, but you must be kept secure until we work out what to do with you.’

  Jane whimpered at the sight of it but Adam said sternly: ‘Do what the Mayor tells you, Jane, or else I’ll turn this up to the next setting…’

  A fresh sharp stabbing lanced through her groin and snivelling Jane quickly sat in the chair. It was well padded and not uncomfortable but it felt strange to do so naked and without any support beneath her buttocks and groin, as if she was seated on a lavatory.

  Goldsmith worked a foot pedal and the chair rose up on its forked mount to present her at a convenient height. He then clipped the rings of her cuffs to the armrests and footrests of the chair and then pulled broad rubber straps across her shins, thighs, stomach and upper arms.

  Feeling herself inexorably confined Jane instinctively strained against them but they held her firmly pressed against the padding of the chair.

  ‘Don’t struggle,’ Goldsmith said, ‘just accept that you must be confined.’

  From behind the headrest of the chair Goldsmith swung across over her head and then down beneath her chin a rubber-sheathed flat metal hoop on a sliding mount which he adjusted so that it pressed up under her chin, keeping her head up. Then he pulled slightly larger hoop of similar design over her forehead and pressed that firmly against her skin so that it held her head braced facing forward. Then he swung a third larger hoop over her head. This had a rubber ball plug set in its middle which he then adjusted so that it pushed up into her mouth forming a gag. A clear plastic tube ran down one side of this hoop and into the rubber ball.

  ‘If you suck on it you can drink when you need to,’ he told her.

  Such consideration even as he had confined her head in steel and rubber! She had never felt so totally immobilised even when she had been chained to the castigorium grating. Jane felt her nipples standing up as if showing that they at least were still free. But it got worse…

  Goldsmith operated another pedal control and the seat frame and leg rests of the chair swung apart down the middle, opening up her thighs and groin. Then to her alarm he tipped the entire chair section over backwards, rotating it within the fork of its supporting mount, so that her gaping groin was facing upwards and her head was hanging down. Jane whimpered in surprise but the hooks and straps and metal bands held her firmly in place.

  Goldsmith said to Adam: ‘Perhaps you would like to remove your wireless chain now she is secure.’

  Adam used a key to contract the bulbous head of the anal plug and then pulled the device from Jane’s groin. It came free with an embarrassing sucking sound and she was horribly aware of the wet emptiness it left behind it, which the two men could clearly see the way it was display before their eyes. Were they intent on humiliating her in every possible way? But she found there was still another purpose to this.

  From beneath the chair seat Goldsmith pulled up an adjustable arm with a moulded clear cup with an oval mouth on its end that he pressed up against her shaven sex mouth. Plastic tubes ran from the bottom of the cup down into the base of the chair. Then he flipped the chair back upright.

  ‘You can relieve yourself in this if you need to,’ Goldsmith told her. Then he turned to Adam. ‘Now, would you like a late lunch, young man? I could have something sent up. With your adventures in the park I suspect you didn’t have time to eat.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Sir,’ Adam said.

  ‘And then perhaps we can discuss what you think about these IRES people. I’d really value your opinion on them.’

  Once again Adam swelled with pride. ‘Well of course if it would help, Sir…’

  They went out together, closing the door behind them and leaving Jane alone and helpless in the soundproofed room.

  ***

  The chair was not uncomfortable if she did not struggle against its restraints, and the room was neither too hot nor too cold. But Jane was increasingly horrified by her predicament and an acute sense of utter helplessness and she went through every stage of anger, hope and despair. She cried a few times and then told herself not to be so weak. Impossible as
it seemed she had to face the reality of the situation. She was a captive in a slave town in the middle of 21st-century England!

  It was over an hour later when Adam and Goldsmith finally returned in the company of a heavily built, commanding man in his late forties with greying hair and sharp eyes. He was carrying what looked like a wooden tool box with him. As he entered he was saying to Adam: ‘… are you any relation to Gerald Tanner, the headmaster of Gryndstone between 1905 and 21?’

  ‘He was my great-grandfather, Sir.’ Adam said proudly.

  ‘I should have guessed. From the way you seem to have handled Ms Frobisher I can tell you’ve got his knack with managing problem females.’ And then his eyes turned to Jane strapped within the restraining chair. ‘Now let’s have a look at her… ‘

  He examined Jane with total self-assurance and familiarity, spinning her round and flipping her over in the chair so that she exposed every part herself to him, pinching and prodding and pushing his thick strong fingers into her sex and rectum and noting her winces and whimpers and blushes of shame. Finally he lifted the gag bar out of her mouth.

  ‘Answer me truthfully and politely, Ms Frobisher, and you will not be punished. What kind of slave would you make?’

  ‘A very bad one, Sir,’ Jane said defiantly.

  ‘I believe you,’ Bradawl said. ‘What do you think of slavery?’

  ‘I think its evil, Sir,’ Jane said.

  ‘Do believe that in every possible case without exception? Or can you conceive that for certain women it may be the happiest state they can wish for? That they need guidance and control and that they are fulfilled by serving others in a well ordered community? I’ve been told you were in Rowland Park for some hours. During that time didn’t you see a number of slaves there who appeared happy with their condition?’

  Jane hesitated, trapped between her principles and honesty. Some of those unaccompanied slave girls in the park had seemed to be having fun. ‘Perhaps… a few, Sir.’