Glory Station

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are 18+. This story includes reluctant scenes and gets pretty dark. I personally love to imagine myself in these awful scenarios and getting forced, it's just a kink, I know it would be awful in real live and I obviously don't condone it. This story has a forced prostitution theme.

The Railway Pt.2: A new job

EMMA

Emma stripped of her cum stained clothes. She was very tempted to throw them in the trashcan, but she simply couldn't afford throwing them away. Especially since getting fired a few hours ago. She dumped the clothes behind her dresser, at least didn't have to see them for a while, and dragged herself to the shower. She scrubbed away for an hour, but the feeling of sticky dried up cum on her back remained. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't forget the lusty look of the masked man or the dirty wink of the older guy. "I have to focus," she told herself, "get back on track."

The first matter of concern was income. Without her job at the factory, bills would soon pile up and she could lose her apartment in no time. "I can't live on the streets," Emma shivered at the thought. She'd seen the homeless people at the subway station. Their eyes staring, empty. You could smell alcohol and urine when walking by. Some didn't even hide their drug use. Of course she felt a sense of compassion for them, but they also scared her. Living like that, among the lawless, it would destroy her.

The issue remained though, how was she going to make a living? She had no diploma, barely any experience, no qualifications. And as a 120 lb, 18 year old, she was not build for a construction job. There wasn't much other job opportunities in the city, that's why she got that awful factory job in the first place. There was the pamphlet of course. Mrs. Barry's pamphlet that promised a good job, stability and income. "If it seems too good to be true, it usually is." Emma's mother would often say. "Desperate times..." Emma wrapped a towel around her B-cup chest, her skin still felt dirty in every spot she'd been touched.

She picked up the pamphlet with the big blue, red and white letters, "We need you!" at the top and read the information on the back. It promised nearly double the pay she'd gotten from her last job, no prior experience needed. She read and re-read, looking for a catch, but she couldn't find one. The company was called, "Ubera". They organized relaxing retreats and group outings by train, she'd seen the commercials all over town. It was unclear which activities they organized, but they promised a liberating and euphoric experience. They promoted mainly towards working men. They also sold a really expensive protein shake, Emma had never tried it.

The back of the pamphlet had an application form and even a stamp for free shipping. "Why not?" she shrugged and filled out the application. There wasn't too much filling out though, just her name, address and age. She licked the stamp to apply it to the envelope and even ran down the post office to send it out right away.

NOLAN

"New delivery, mr. Rey!" Nolan sighted and peered over his newspaper. He was convinced that he had the strangest job in town. Anyone would be confused if he told them what he did, that is, if he would have been allowed to tell. Nolan Rey tested the saliva on the back of post-stamps. He'd been working for Ubera for a few months and was already bored of it. Post-stamps. Every. Single. Day. The same fucking thing. However, the job payed well and, as long as he didn't ask questions, it was a pretty relaxed work environment.

He tested each stamp, selecting the profiles of healthy applicants. He didn't care much what Ubera did with the results. Wanting healthy employees seemed logical... It was obvious that Nolan wasn't supposed to ask questions, and so he didn't.

"Perfectly healthy," he reported on the application of an 18 year old female applicant.

EMMA

It was 11am when Emma heard a knock on her door. She was rolled up in a little ball on her bed, the blinders shut. She hadn't really been asleep, she just didn't feel like getting up. All week she had been applying for jobs. Not a single job interview. Even the waste disposal company rejected her, since she was to small to throw the heavy trash bags in the garbage truck.

Another knock. Emma peered past the chain through her door. It was mrs. Barry.

"Good morning, dear!" she cheered, finding her way to the kitchen.

"Are you ill?" looking up and down at Emma's PJ's. The girl shook her head.

"Well, good! I have something for you!" the lady held up an envelope, "Caught the mailman just in time! That is, last Thursday. I kept it safe from you. Since I didn't see you, I couldn't wait any longer and decided to come by. It's from that pamphlet I gave you! So you did apply, didn't you?"

Mrs. Barry munched away at the plate of cookies she'd brought along, while Emma read the letter.

"Dear miss Moores,

Your application has been thoroughly reviewed and accepted. We would love to see you on Monday at our facility, where you can begin your training. Included is a train ticket.

Kind regards

C. Shepard

Human resources

Ubera Health and Retreat"

Emma looked up with a new found spark in her eyes, "I'm in!"

Mrs. Barry shared a grin with her as she offered the girl another stale cookie.

"I'm in!" she cheered again.

Turning over the train ticket, her face turned pale, "I'm late!"

Emma hopped of her chair, ignoring mrs. Barry's confused mumblings as she got dressed and rushed out the door. Her train would leave in half an hour.

The railway guard's whistle already chirped as Emma hurried into the wagon. For a second she got an uncomfortable flashback to the overly full subway cart, but than she noticed she was surrounded only by women. All women around her own age or slightly older, none over thirty-five.

The training facility wasn't supposed to be very far, but to the women's surprise, the train kept driving, and driving, and driving. Not a single stop as they rattled out of town, through the country and further along.

"Where are we going?" a woman, about 25, asked.

"Yeah, I thought we were going only to the edge of town!" another replied.

"We've been driving for hours!", "I want to get off!", "How much longer?", "What's going on?"

The crowd shuffled back and forward, but there was no way off the driving train. Then, finally, the train slowed down. Emma almost got pushed over and grabbed onto the railing tightly. It felt as if a bolt of energy rushed through her body, her hand seemed glued to the railing. The mumbling felt silent and as her knees grew weaker, she saw the women around her sink to the ground.

Emma blinked a couple of times against the bright light. It took some adjusting before she could see anything. What had happened?

"The train..." she mumbled, "I fainted... I think..."

Emma was laying down on her back, she didn't know where she was, but it certainly wasn't the train. Only when she tried to look around, she noticed that she was fixated to the stretcher or table she was on. There was a supporting pillow under her head and in the hollow curve of her back. The "bed", if you could call it that, looked a lot like the exam table at the gynecologists office. Emma felt a shiver, noticing how she was completely naked, her legs strapped in the braces and slightly parted. She seemed to be missing part of her memory and wondered whether she was in the hospital.

Without even a knock on the door, someone came in. If she hadn't been strapped to the table, she would have jumped up. The doctor, or nurse, or whatever, was wearing a long white coat and a surgical mask. Emma couldn't even tell whether it was a man or a woman.

"What's going on?" the girl asked, her voice trembled.

The white figure didn't respond, didn't even look her in the eye. They simply opened up a cabinet and laid out supplies on a stainless steel table.

"Who are you? Where am I? What happened? Is this the hospital?"

No response.

"Hey!" Emma shouted, "Are you deaf? Answer me!"

Still nothing. The girl struggled and strained against her bonds, but her limbs felt weak and she could hardly move. She managed to lift her head only 2 inches of the table, still shouting questions, but the white figure simply put a latex gloved hand on her forehead and pushed her back down. They responded to Emma's struggle by adding another strap, keeping her head in place. It was quite clear now, she wasn't in a real hospital, but what on earth was going on?

The white figure smeared a hot substance on Emma's skin and applied white sheets over her entire body before systematically waxing everything, including her intimate parts. Her blond curls were tied back when the figure plucked a couple of eyebrow hairs. The girl felt as if her skin was on fire. After a lot of futile objections, the white figure tied a strap around Emma's mouth, so tightly she could only breath through her nose. She snorted loudly when her glowing skin was sponged down with an ice cold solution and rinsed with a hose.

Once dry, Emma was wheeled through a long hallway and into a large room with train tracks and a platform on one side, and a large wall on the other. The wall was made up of small rooms with steel doors and holes in them. To her dismay there were legs and lower torsos from women, firmly fastened through those holes. Other holes had blindfolded girls with their jaw fixed open. One of the holes was still empty. Above it was a photo of a girl and Emma recognized her own smiling Facebook profile picture. She was rolled through into the tiny chamber and the door was closed around her waist. Her leg braces were opened up and then... nothing.

She heard only the echoes of more girls being rolled into their own little rooms, doors being locked, footsteps passing by, but no-one said anything and no-one touched her. After a while, even the sounds of footsteps disappeared and the large hall became dead-silent. All she could do was shiver and wait.

She though about the train, how they all fainted. She thought about the pamflet that seemed too good to be true. It was. By now the realization had kicked in that Ubera offered some type of adult entertainment and didn't use very willing employees. Her hands were shaking and she wondered if her legs, on the other side of the door, were too. Her vision became blurry as her eyes filled with tears. How long would she lay here? What would happen? Would she soon be forced? Robbed of her virginity for the financial gain of some random company. Touched for the first time, by a stranger who saw her as nothing but a product. A quick getaway, a relaxing retreat, just entertainment. She sniffled, wanting to wail and scream, wondering if whoever would arrive on the other side, had any idea about her situation.

Emma was woken from her thoughts by a low rumbling. A train was arriving and a robotic voice echoed over the intercom:

"The -C- train of -thirteen- hours and -eight- minutes will arrive shortly at platform -six-. Please keep your distance from the platform edge until the train has fully stopped."

The train rattled over the tracks and the sound of squeaking brakes rolled through the station.

"The -C- train of -thirteen- hours and -eight- minutes has arrived at platform -six-. Please be aware of the gap between the cart and the platform."

Emma's breathing accelerated when the hydraulic doors opened with a "psss" and hundreds of footsteps filled the space. A large crowd exited the train and the station filled with conversations, all voices with a male tremor, but too many to make out any words.

"Welcome at Glory station!" the voice-over recited, "On your left you will find a gift bag including lubricant and an assortment condoms. Please apply a condom before each intercourse. Refreshments can be found at the right wall. Your train will depart at -fifteen- hours and -three- minutes, please find your way back to your seat by -fifteen o'clock-."

Excited voices chattered as the crowd moved through the space. Not a minute later, Emma heard a girl moaning nearby. She frowned, wondering how the girl could enjoy this horror. She didn't have time to think about it long, as a rough hand kneaded her thigh and parted her legs as far as they would go.

"That one looks cute," barked a voice nearby, "love blondes!"

Someone spit on her lower stomach, than spit again, this time hitting his mark. The saliva dripped along her freshly waxed pussy and the rough hand from before smeared it along the folds of her labia. Emma wanted to cry, scream, tell him to stop, but her mouth was strapped tightly. A thick finger pressed at her entrance.

"Damn!" the man shouted, "this one's fresh!"

The curious fingers spread her inner labia and Emma felt the hot touch of a tongue moving across her vagina and lips, up to her clit. A mustache brushed by her sensitive mound. Emma's legs twitched. The man didn't waist much time with his mouth, or with lube for that matter. Emma forgot to breath in the few seconds his touch disappeared, while he rolled a condom over his short, thick penis. Another drip of saliva dribbled through her folds and the man coated his covered cock in it by grinding along her slit.

Emma heard her own voice release a soft little squeak full of anticipation. She clenched her jaw, confused by her own sound. The man rubbed harder along the length of her lips and once again she heard the soft moan. A small speaker inside of her box was producing the moans. The automated sound was triggered by sensitive motion- and sound-sensors and advanced technology had been used to adjust the moans according to a scan of each girls vocal cords. It was as if she could hear herself sigh and moan.

"You like that, huh?" the deep voice laughed.

"Hmmm... yeah..." the speaker moaned.

"You gonna make me a happy customer, darling?"

"Hmmmm... yes..."

"Good girl," he groaned as he slid is glans down towards it's target, "how old are you, love?"

"I'm eighteen, what about you?" Emma's voice-over said.

"Bit older," the guy chuckled, "sixty-three... You don' mind, do ya, darling?"

"Of course not!" she heard herself giggle as the pressure on her opening went up.

Emma was grinding her teeth, the pillow below her getting wet from her tears. She was about to loose her virginity to a sixty-three year old stranger.

"I wish I could see yer face as I pop yer cherry, love," his glans nestling between her labia as he pushed, "might hurt just a little..."

Emma's voice-over whimpered faintly as he pushed up against her virginity. She tensed up her body, closing her eyes.

"Ya ready, love?" the man grumbled.

Emma strained against her bonds, what she would have given to hit that speaker, shatter it to pieces and stop it from saying: "Yes, I'm ready..."

Two hands harshly gripped her thighs and a large hairy stomach leaned onto her flat tummy. Her legs were parted so far, it strained her hips and the "customer" let out a deep groan as he ripped past her hymen. He pushed further in, in one long stroke, stretching himself into the tense virgin pussy as Emma's speaker let out a short yelp, followed by a moan.

"Oh yer tight," the man moaned. Emma closed her eyes, tried to imagine she was at home in her bed, her crush smiling sweetly upon her... It didn't work. The voice of her "customer" was too deep and raspy, his hands too rough, his large hairy stomach pressed against her and her restraints cutting into her skin... she simply couldn't imagine her cute ex-coworker.

The man started to move, not taking his time like the delicate lover Emma tried to conjure up, but fast and rough. Like a jackhammer beating her pussy, releasing his build up tension. His heavy hairy scrotum slapping her ass and his long unkept nails pressing into her thighs. The fast breathing and moans of the voice-over could barely keep up with his panting and groaning. His sweaty stomach chafing her small body. The thick four inch cock twitched as his strokes became less rhythmic and he pushed inside her tight cavity one last time. He let out satisfied roar, squeezed her body under his weight and blew his jizz into the rubber. His limb sixty-three year old penis slipped out and he slapped her thigh one more time saying, "Good slut," before moving on. In no more than two minutes, Emma had lost her virginity. Her ravaged pussy ached and pulsed. It was as if he had bruised her on the inside.

She cried, unable to proces what had happened.

"That one's free, Bill."

"Thanks!"

Another hand caressed her thigh, a coarse thumb circling her clit.

"You're a cutie," said the voice above her.

"Thanks!" her voice giggled, as he pushed his hips against her, a cock resting on her stomach, just short of reaching her bellybutton...

-

Thanks for reading. I know this story is pretty dark and not for everyone. If you do enjoy it, you should know I'm working on a third part.

Have a nice day,

Robin Snow