The Blow-Job Stand

“Free Blow-Jobs”

The sign hung from the neck of a kneeling figure, bathed in the light of a lamp-post, along a little used path in the middle of the park. The park was deserted, unsurprisingly since it was two in the morning. I’d been unable to sleep in the summer heat and had decided to take a walk instead of tossing and turning in bed.

She – it was quite clearly a she – stared sightlessly ahead, her eyes, indeed most of her face, covered by a tight leather hood that left only her open mouth visible. She was completely motionless as I approached.

I lifted the sign up to the light, and read the smaller print aloud.

“Hi. I’m April, and I am a very bad girl. I give great blow-jobs, so please use me. If I don’t perform, let me know with the button beside me.”

As promised, a box with a button lay beside her, mounted to a wooden platform on which she knelt.

I stared at the figure in front of me. She barely moved, and as I investigated by the light of the small flashlight I carried with me on these nocturnal walks, it became obvious that she wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon. The platform she knelt on was padded under her knees. but her feet, contained within ballet-heeled ankle boots, were held in line with her shins, held in place by wide steel cuffs around her ankles.

Between her feet rose a steel pole, to which her wrists and forearms were attached, again with wide steel cuffs, her elbows pulled cruelly together behind her. Above her elbows, the pole curved to follow her spine, disappearing beneath the hood where her neck met her shoulders.

The hood covered her from the base of her neck up, and was tightly laced at the back. It was then I had my first inkling that this might not be as consensual as the sign suggested. The back of the hood was coated in something hard, epoxy I guessed, completely covering and sealing the laces. The only way to get this hood off would be to cut it.

Looking back down her body, she wore a tight leather overbust corset, with wide shoulder straps. Around her narrow waist was a wide steel belt, attached to the pole at the back. A steel strap ran from the front of the belt and disappeared between her legs.

The cuffs closed with steel bolts. They were of the security break-away variety; once screwed in, the bolt could be over-tightened, breaking off the part of the screw head that engaged the spanner or screwdriver and rendering the screw nonremovable.

Now I was really curious, not to mention a little frightened. Somebody had put some serious effort into making “April’s” bondage nonremovable without serious tools, far beyond what was required for a consensual scene, however perverted.

“Are you okay?” I asked. No response. I wasn’t even sure if she was alive. I tapped her on the forehead.

She twitched, so I repeated myself and she started grunting and struggling frantically. I realised that there was a reason her mouth was open. I placed a finger inside, and felt the steel ring jammed into her teeth and holding her jaws open. Thick steel rods came forward from the ring, out the corners of her mouth, and back around her cheeks inside the hood. She could lick or suck any object thrust into her mouth, but not bite down on it.

“Okay, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” I spoke a little louder this time. She seemed to relax a bit. “I just want to ask you some questions. One for yes, two for no. Do you want this?”

Two grunts.

“Do you want to get out?” One grunt.

“Do you want me to call the police?” Two grunts.

“I’m going to have to leave you and get some tools. Is that okay?”

There was a pause, and then a single grunt.

I almost ran back to the house. I realised that while I could cut her hood off, freeing her from the steel was going to require power tools. I grabbed several items from the garage workbench and tossed them into a backpack. Then I took the wheelbarrow down from its hooks on the wall, and headed back down the street. I’d also filled a bottle of water; when I’d placed my finger in April’s mouth, it had felt as dry as a bone.

Unsurprisingly, April was still there when I arrived. After giving her a little water, carefully since swallowing would be difficult with the ring holding her mouth open, I set to work.

I took a pair of shears and pushed them through the mouth of the hood, and started cutting, hoping I might be able to get the gag out. I was able, with some difficulty, to cut the tight leather down past her chin to the bottom edge, then up the side of her face far enough to pull the hood off her head.

Her face was a mess, the seams of the hood had left lines, and her hair was matted. What little was left of her make-up was lined with tear stains, although her eyes were dry now. But despite her sorry state, she appeared young and healthy.

He ears had foam earplugs in them, which I popped out. Now she could see me and hear me properly, but removing the gag was beyond the capability of the hand tools I had brought.

The top of the steel pole running up her back ended in a steel collar, nearly three inches high, which in turn enclosed a tall leather posture collar. The side rods of the gag reached down to the sides of the collar, where again a nonremovable screw fastened it into place.

“Sorry, but it looks that that’s all I’m going to be able to do for you until we get home. Are you okay to be moved? I’m afraid this isn’t going to be gentle.”

What she replied sounded enough like “yes, okay” for me to proceed. First, I lifted one side of the platform, and tipped April onto her side. Then I lay the wheelbarrow behind her. Crouching down in front of her and reaching underneath her to the wheelbarrow, I lifted her up, rotating both into an upright position, her face to the night sky with the front lip of the wheelbarrow supporting her neck and the platform stable in the rear.

“Comfy?” I asked. There was an affirmative grunt and I lifted the wheelbarrow and headed home at a trot.

In the garage, I set to work. It was slow going, but the bolt heads eventually drilled out, freeing her from the steel, starting with the gag. With that out, I was able to feed and water her properly before proceeding to release her from the rest of her bonds. Her jaw was stiff, meaning that she could only eat a little, but she was parched and went through several glasses of water.

I worked downward, freeing her neck, elbows and wrists, then the belt around her lower regions. As the steel strap between her legs came away, she reached down and slowly pulled something from her sex. It was a plastic dildo, with spikes. It must have been rubbing her raw, and indeed her face showed considerable pain as she withdrew it.

I undid her ankle cuffs, and removed the ballet heeled ankle boots. Whan after some stretching, she could finally stand, she asked me to grab a bucket and help her to the bathroom.

Obviously, all sense of modesty had left her, as she pulled a large plug from her rear passage, dropped it into the bucket, and sat down on the toilet to defecate loudly. I took the bucket and plug outside to wash them off.

Soon, April was back in the garage, still naked but for the corset. That was the last piece to go. The laces had been tied tightly and the ends cut short, so I simply cut the laces away and helped her out of it.

I’d cut the wires from the punishment button as soon as I’d seen them exposed underneath the platform, where they ran from the button box and up between her legs. The other ends of the wires were now revealed, attached to vicious clips on her nipples. She winced in pain as I removed them, the last items of her extreme bondage.

As the pain from her tortured nipples receded, she seemed to change. The fatigue of her experience had finally caught up with her, but she also seemed to have a look of relief. I scooped her up and carried her, still completely naked, to the spare bedroom and put her to bed.

---

It was late in the afternoon before she finally surfaced. Having washed her face and combed her hair, she looked a lot more presentable than she had when she went to bed. Quite presentable, actually. I’d left her a tee-shirt to wear, on her it was almost a dress.

Almost. Neither the fact that it only just reached her thighs, nor that she wasn’t wearing anything else seemed to bother her in the slightest.

“Good afternoon. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Much better. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, I’m always happy to help a damsel in distress, although I’ll have to say that was quite some distress. But first things first, I’m sure you need something to eat?”

“Please.”

She relaxed on the couch while I made a pot of tea and fixed a couple of sandwiches I had to make a couple more, as she was ravenous.

“I needed that,” she said as she finished eating. “Thank you again. I owe you my life.”

“Don’t mention it. But you could tell me your name. I suspect it’s not April,”

“You’re right, it’s Andi. Andi Jones.”

“Well, Andi, I think you’d better explain what happened last night. That was one hell of a contraption you were stuck in.”

She took a deep breath. “That was my idea.” As I raised my eyebrow, she continued. “Not last night. But the blow-job stand. I liked the idea that I could be trapped in it, and just be used. Tony loved to set me up at the club for his friends to use, and I loved to service them.”

“You’re kidding. You must be Germaine Greer’s worst nightmare.”

“I’m submissive, it’s just who I am. Tony looked after me, and I served him. It was an arrangement that worked well for what I wanted.”

“How long were you with this guy?”

“A bit over two years. I didn’t know what he did, but I found out later that he was involved in organised crime. By then I was in too deep. Even if I had wanted to run, I had nowhere to go. And to be honest, while I looked at the guys in the club a bit differently after I found out what they did for a living, it didn’t really affect me. Actually, that sounds like I just didn’t care, and I’m ashamed now to admit that it’s true.”

I half expected her to burst into tears, but she didn’t. Instead she continued.

“Anyway, a two nights ago, we were at the club. It was late, and Tony was talking business in another room. A guy called Joe called me over, and told me Tony had said I should blow him. So I did. I didn’t know that Joe was from a rival gang. He and his friends split as soon as Tony and his guys came out, but he saw me go down on Joe.

“Tony didn’t say anything, just bought me a drink. He must have slipped something in it, because the next thing I knew I was being locked into the blow-job stand. He had already put the ring gag in, so I couldn’t explain or argue. I don’t think it would have helped anyway.

“I knew Tony had a vicious streak. He had always treated me well, but only a few months ago, he caught up with an old girlfriend who had left him for someone in another gang. He had her brought to his basement, and abused her for a week. Then he took a large plastic barrel and lined the bottom with sharp stones. He had her put into the barrel, and held down while he filled the barrel with stones before closing the lid. The barrel had holes in it so she could breathe. He told her that the holes were to make sure it sank when it was dropped in the river.

“He kept her there for two days without food or water before one of his associates took the barrel. She had stopped making any noise; she might already have been dead. I’m sure she really is at the bottom of the river. I had no reason to believe she was going to get out alive and I don’t think she did either. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like knowing the only way out was to die.

“They made me watch all of this. I was scared, but I had nowhere to go. If I left, he would hunt me down, and then with all I’d seen I knew it would then be me in the barrel, or worse. But if I stayed, I didn’t know how it would end.

“I got my answer when I came to my senses locked into the blow-job stand, in one of the back rooms of the club. I made a noise, and Tony crouched down in front of me and told me what a useless slut I was for blowing Joe and how he could never again use someone who had been with his rival. It would be embarrassing for him or any of his friends to have anything more to do with me, and of course he couldn’t risk having me go to Joe, or the police with everything I’d seen or knew.

“Instead, since I was famous for my willingness to give blow-jobs, I would have to provide them to the boys who did Tony’s dirty work. The guys could do what they liked with me as long as they didn’t release me, and they disposed of me properly when I was no more use.”

“So how did you come to be in the park?”

“After Tony finished locking me up, he left me with the boys at the club. They spent the rest of evening getting drunk and getting their jollies.

“Then one of them thought it would be really funny to have blow-jobs in public. We drove for a while, I guess so we were well away from Tony and his gang’s usual haunts. I heard them calling their friends around, telling them how to get there. I have no idea how many men I had to suck off, but it was a lot. I heard someone ask if I was OK, but he was told I was and that it was all my idea.

“A little while before you showed up, after things had quietened down, I heard them talking on the phone. They had to go and help Tony or one of his associates, and they couldn’t take me with them. I heard them arguing about what to do with me, then one of them said they had to go now, and they’d have to come back.

“And then you showed up. I was sure I was about to go for my last ride. And you don’t know how scared I was when you had to leave to get the tools. Before you came, I was sure I was going to die. You gave me hope, and when you left, I was really worried that the boys would be back before you could free me.”

“So what do you think will happen now? Won’t Tony be looking for you?”

“I’m scared. But I don’t think the boys will tell Tony, or any of his close associates. They will just have to hope I don’t turn up. That’s why I don’t want the police involved; if they find out, Tony will find out too. I just need to disappear.”

“What about me?” I asked. “Am I in any danger?”

“I don’t know. Only a couple of the boys know I’m missing. Tony will assume that I’m dead, and the boys won’t be talking. They can’t get anyone else to help look for me without Tony finding out that they screwed up. So I think they’ll be sweating and hoping I’m smart enough to just disappear. I don’t plan to disappoint them. Even if they find us, they’ll need to kill you too, and an unauthorised murder is very risky. I can’t be sure that they won’t do it though.

“We can be sure that if Tony does find out, we’re both dead. I’m really sorry to put you at this kind of risk.”

“What about Joe, would he help?”

“I think he just wanted to get at Tony. Really, I don’t think any of that gang would risk a full-scale war for me. I was just Tony’s slut, remember. Anyway, if they did go to war, people would be killed. Mostly bad people, but others will get caught up as well. I don’t really want that on my conscience.

“Really, I just need to get away. Take my chances, try to start again.”

“But you have no money, I.D. or even clothes!”

“I know. I’ll figure something out. I’ll just hit the road and hope someone can take me far away.”

I reached a decision. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m betting your boys are cruising the highway right now looking for a hitcher. You’re staying here, with me.”

“I couldn’t! If they find me they’ll kill you too!”

“That’s why I can’t let you go. If you’re here, I know what the risks are, but if you’re out there somewhere, I don’t. And if you get caught, I’m sure they’ll find a way of making you tell them who helped you.

“So, as of now, Andi doesn’t exist. Pick yourself a new name, and start thinking about who you want to be.”

It took about a week, but soon Andi was no more. Her long, blonde hair was now a brunette bob. The short, slutty pieces she had been used to wearing were replaced by smart clothes; she looked like an office worker, at her best a corporate climber, not the sex slave to the mob she had been.

Truth be told, gangster’s moll wasn’t her natural role. She had fallen into it not through the usual routes of prostitution and criminal relationships, but through her and Tony’s mutual interest in the BDSM lifestyle. And in fairness to Tony, he had never forced Andi to be a part of his criminal enterprise, preferring to keep her strictly for what he felt she was good for. Of course, the underlying conflict between Tony’s true nature and Andi’s would probably have come to a head eventually even if the incident with Joe had not occurred.

It was easy for Andi to become unrecognisable to the thugs who might actually be looking for her. More worrying was that Tony or one of his close associates, who knew her better, might notice a resemblance. But even Tony had not really known her outside the BDSM clubs or as his live-in slave. I hoped that this meant that he wouldn’t notice a conservatively dressed brunette, made up to hide her true complexion, passing him in the street. She was not to talk unless she absolutely had to, lest someone recognise her voice.

Still, it was best to keep her head down, just going out when required. As long as she stayed, I didn’t need to worry about doing housework or cooking; when I came home, dinner was waiting and the house was spotless. It was something of a change from my bachelor lifestyle.

“You saved my life,” she told me when I’d said she didn’t need to act as my personal maid. “Doesn’t that make me your slave?”

I missed some of the meaning of that. On the face of it, it meant I could expect her to keep doing my domestic chores for as long as she stayed. But there was more to that statement than I realised.

---

One night I came home, finding the house dark. Puzzled, I turned on the lights. As I entered the living room, I nearly dropped everything.

There was Andi. On her knees, locked in the blow-job stand. At first I started to panic, surely this meant we had been found. But Andi’s expression, albeit full of the steel ring gag, did not suggest danger.

Beside her was a little pile, consisting of the wrist and elbow cuffs from the stand, a screwdriver and a set of keys. It dawned on me that she had screwed her body into the thing herself. Probably, she had tried to get into the elbow or wrist cuffs, but failed, or she’d left them to be added later. Instead, her wrists were trapped by handcuffs, the chain passing between her body and the rear post, below the metal waist belt.

The handcuffs were mine.

Alongside the cuffs and keys lay a note. This time, I was prepared to believe she wrote it.

“I have been a bad slave.”, I read, aloud. “First, I was too careless, and dropped and broke a plate. Second, I snooped in your room and found your handcuffs, and a few other toys. Please punish me for being so careless and nosey. Please keep me as long as you want, and use me as you want. I give the best blow-jobs. Love, Andi.”

The sight before me was awfully tempting, but we hadn’t discussed this. Sure, the letter seemed to be asking me to drop my pants and fuck her mouth, and perhaps that’s what she really wanted.

Hell, I had been turned on by the state I had originally found her. At least, I was when I thought about it later. Then, though, the danger and suffering, being genuine, were major turn-offs for me. Those concerns did not apply to the current situation.

Still, I wasn’t going to proceed without checking in first. Taking the screwdriver, I unbolted the ring gag from the collar and removed it from her mouth.

“What did you do that for? Don’t you want me?” she asked, after working her mouth for a bit. The tone was almost complaining.

“I’m not Tony. I’m not going to just take what I want from you without asking you first.”

“Okay, are you going to let me out then? I’ve been here a while.”

“No, not just yet. I think I like you as is. Let me fix it up, though.”

I proceeded to complete the ensemble by bolting the elbow cuffs into place. The handcuffs were then replaced by the wide steel wrist cuffs. I liked the look better, and they were much less likely to cause damage than the narrow edged bracelets of the handcuffs.

“There, isn’t that more comfortable?”

“I guess.” She squirmed in her restraints. “So aren’t you going to use me?”

“I’ve been using you for the last two weeks.”

“I mean … use … me. For more than just domestic duties.”

“I don’t know. Is that really what you want me to do? Or do you just feel obligated to offer me something for saving your life?”

She was silent.

“If that is the case, then I decline. What you;ve been doing is more than enough, and I like having you around, especially since you’re so undemanding. But really, I haven’t done anything any decent human being wouldn’t do, and you don’t need to repay me. If you left tomorrow, I wouldn’t feel that you owed me.”

“But I would miss you,” I added when there was still no response.

She took a deep breath. “I would miss you too. And I think I need this.”

“Why?”

Anther deep breath. “Because I’m submissive. The way Tony abused me doesn’t change how I am. I need to feel owned. And that means I need to be punished if I misbehave.”

“How is it punishment if you want it?”

She didn’t answer.

“Okay, so why were you snooping through my things?”

“I found your handcuffs in the bedside drawer. I had a headache and was looking for a painkiller.”

“You said you found my other stuff. That wasn’t in the drawer.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I figured that handcuffs could mean a lot of things. So I had to find out.”

“I see. And you found that I am kinky after all.”

“Yes. I couldn’t believe it. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I don’t play with just anyone. And I didn’t know if you would be interested after everything that happened, or if you’d even want to talk about it.”

“Well, now you know. I am and I’m offering. I still have needs, and I suspect you do too.”

“I can see that there is a third thing you need to be punished for.”

“Oh?”

“Where is dinner? Shouldn’t a good slave have her Master’s meal on the table when he comes home?”

“Yes … Master.”

Before leaving her to go and prepare something to eat, I bolted the ring gag back into place. She accepted it willingly. I turned off the light as I left the room.

I prepared a thick soup, and fed it to her through the ring gag. She wanted me to punish her, so I did, keeping her bound and gagged all evening. I watched TV, keeping her turned toward me, able to hear but not see what was on. I was sure that was frustrating.

Her knees must have been killing her, despite the padding under them. Finally, late in the evening, I used her as she originally intended. She hadn’t been exaggerating when said she was good, and she swallowed every last drop despite the obstruction in her mouth.

After I had recovered, I got up, said good night and left, turning the light off as I went.

“Ay, ek ee ow!” said a voice in the darkness, somewhat urgently. “I ee oo o!”

“Sorry, slave, but you did want to be punished. For it to be a punishment, you have to not like it. Don’t make a mess on the floor, if that’s what you just meant. Don’t make any more noise either.”

I gave her an hour to suffer in silence, before sneaking back into the living room to let her out. She was stiff from being motionless for so long, and she wobbled as she got to her feet. Once she regained her balance, she rushed to the bathroom.

Andi quickly dropped into her role as my slave, not that it differed a great deal from the situation beforehand. She cooked and cleaned. I thought about getting her a collar, and doing the whole collared slave thing, but I didn’t want any outward hints that she might be Tony’s ex-slave. That meant keeping any signs of kink completely hidden.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t exercise control over her in less visible ways. She was required to dress to please me at all times; outside, that was conservative, but smart. Skirts always below the knee, but quite often narrow and restrictive. Heel heights to exude power, not sex, at least, not quite, and of course to further restrict her stride. Jackets that emphasised her bust and waist. That bust, however was to be alluded to by the lapel line, not shown. Blouses were to be buttoned safely above the cleavage.

At home, she might be seen at a window, so slutty was still out of the question. The rules on blouses etc. applied inside as for outside. Below the waist, there was more latitude. I had her wear full dresses, flirty mini skirts, whatever took my fancy. Her default attire was fairly similar to her “outside” clothes, blouse, narrow skirt and heels, with an apron or pinafore if she was going to be preparing food or otherwise risking damaging her clothes.

I decided that she was always to be in heels when up and about; partly because I like the look, but partly as a way that she would know that she was to please me with every step she took. I’ll have to admit we went a bit overboard with the wardrobe, but then she had started with nothing.

She turned out to be an utterly reliable slave, even knowing when and how far to push the envelope; her brand of submission required active “correction”, without it, she wouldn’t feel the control she craved. Her turn-ons were not around just being a servant, but in exploring the boundaries of her submission. I was perfectly aware of what she was doing, that her disobedience or mischief were not aimed at me, but were an invitation to play. In truth, if I really wanted to punish her, the best way would be to ignore the transgression completely.

For my part, I tried to keep the “punishments” interesting. For both of us.

---

I knew that the situation as it stood could not last. Andi could not hide forever, not in the same city. Even if the danger had passed, we could never know for sure that it had. Something had to be done.

Andi refused to discuss going to the police. She knew what happened to people who ratted on gangsters. They often conveniently disappeared just before they were due to testify. There was no way Andi would tell the police what had happened to her, let alone do so in court.

But perhaps there was more than one way to skin a cat. I did have connections in the police. My cousin, Tom, was a detective, and someone I trusted implicitly. Without Andi’s cooperation, Tony could never be prosecuted for what he did to her, but perhaps he could go down for something else.

Again, Andi could not provide direct evidence. But perhaps she could tell Tom what to look for, and perhaps the girl in the barrel could help. A few discrete inquiries later, and the girl had a name.

Luigi struggled under my grasp as Tom flashed his badge. This operation wasn’t by the book; Tom knew where to find him, and we knew how to scare him.

“Lu, we know you had a girl tied up in the park, locked into a steel frame. Now, are you gonna help us out here, or are you going down for murder?” Tom had a way of putting facts in front of someone in a way that demanded a response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yeah, you do. You and about a hundred of your buddies fucked her face.”

“I didn’t kill her!”

“We think you did. We think you took Debbie Parker to the river and dumped her right after you’d had your fun.”

“Deb? I had nothing to do with that! She was …”

“She was what?”

“I don’t know anything!”

“Yeah, you do. And if you don’t want to do the time for her, start talking now.”

“That wasn’t Deb. And I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Well, here’s the thing. I’ve got a Jane Doe strapped into the body brace from Hell. And one of Debbie’s friends knew you guys were looking for her before she disappeared. And we know about your little sport in the park. So I’m putting two and two together, and saying Deb provided one last little bit of fun for you guys before going for a swim. Now if you’ve got a better explanation, I’d sure like to hear it.”

“I didn’t kill no-one!”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a completely innocent explanation. And even if it isn’t so innocent, maybe we can still help each other. By the way, I have a buddy who wants to ask you a bunch of questions on another matter, but hey, and if you help me out here, maybe I might forget I found you.”

Silence. Subtlety is lost on the stupid. Tom tried again.

“You know, Lu, if I found Deb somewhere else, there wouldn’t be a case, ’cause I’m not real sure that’s who it is. But you know, missing girl, body, witnesses, known associates, they all kinda add up, don’t they?”

“I know where Deb is,” said Luigi, quietly.

“Do you now? How about we go for a drive and you can tell us all about it.”

Luigi caved. He wasn’t going down for a murder he didn’t commit. Not Deb’s, anyway. We had the body out of the water that afternoon, and Tony in custody soon after. A written statement would make sure that the story didn’t disappear with Lu when he inevitably ran. The body in the barrel was on the evening news, ensuring that Tony’s money couldn’t make the case just quietly go away, and Tony’s associates would be quick to put distance between their business and Tony’s murderous personal life.

We leaked the story of the blow-job stand into the criminal fraternity; it was convenient that the underworld believed Tony’s former slave had also been a victim of Tony’s cruelty. Strings were pulled quietly, and Andi Jones, sex slave to the mob, quietly vanished. In her place, Annie Shepherd, administrative assistant, appeared complete with documentation.

That is how the world sees her outside. Inside, her submissive desires are as strong as ever; the bond she experienced with Tony eclipsed by that she now has with the man who saved her life.

And she can think of no better way to thank me than to be bolted into the blow-job stand, and please me with her very talented mouth.

 

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