The Contract

Chapter Six-1

Chapter Six

The Travelling Ensemble

After he left, I staggered back to the table and again leant against its edge, still trying to accept the strange sensations of my chastity belt and even more fully aware of the little nubbin that caressed my c******s every time I moved. With dawning horror I realised that there was no way for me to get at it and relieve its constant teasing under the steel crotch-cover. Moaning with agitation from the escalating sensations it was evoking, my fingers scrabbled fruitlessly against the obdurate, cupped steel casing, attempting to somehow shift its position, but the crotch-plate was far too tight and so well-fitted that I couldn’t even squeeze my fingers under its edges.

The two women gestured for me to sit on the table and I gingerly levered myself up onto it, gasping aloud when the plugs pressed even deeper as my full weight settled onto the thinly-padded surface. One of them brought over a pair of 15 cm heeled thigh boots and began pulling them onto my feet, doing something with the stirrup strap when my foot slipped into the shoe portion. She laced the boots tightly, slipping each of the rings of my leg cuffs through small, metal-rimmed slots at the ankles, knees, thighs and the ones at their tops, thus holding them firmly positioned. She gestured for me to stand and I reeled a little when I did, feeling the snug bite of the bands when my muscles and tendons strained against them; unused to the punishing posture for my feet and legs that the boots enforced. In addition, the compression of the tight leather all the way up and around each leg accentuated the clamping of the hidden cuffs. She knelt before me while I stood swaying in front of her and, under the high arch of each boot, between their towering stiletto heels and platform soles, activated locking bolts. They passed through the staples projecting from the stirrup straps on each of my insteps, these having passed through a slot in the inner steel shank of the shoe portion. I didn’t know it, but I had been locked into the boots.

The other, black-shrouded chaperone brought over what appeared to be a heavy, long-line bra and, holding it out, gestured for me to slip my arms through the loops of the thick, narrow shoulder straps. When I leant forward, she pulled them up over my shoulders and my breasts fell into the tight, rigid, and compressing cups. To my horror, I felt the insides of each one lined with hundreds of little rubber spikes.

Before I could shrug out of the horrible, punishing undergarment, the other black ghost slipped a long, thin, steel rod through the jaws of the piano-type hinges that fastened the garment’s edges together over my spine, clamping the wide chest-band firmly over my ribs and upper stomach so that it squeezed my chest firmly after it had been fastened and I realised then that it was also a corset of some severity. The garment spread down to just above my hips, covering the waist cinch of my chastity belt. Next, they tightened the shoulder straps from behind until they dug deeply into the thinly padded hollows of my shoulders, drawing them down quickly while I struggled futilely and weakly to prevent them from fastening the bra any more tightly. After they were satisfied with the tightness of the shoulder straps, I discovered that the cups of the bra now rigidly and tightly encased my breasts, ensuring that the interior spikes were kept firmly pressed into the sensitive flesh. I moaned with discomfort and tried to shift myself within the feminine chest harness, but there was no movement permitted. To ensure that I’d be unable to slip out of the web of straps, another was connected to rings and went across my back, high up between my shoulders, joining the shoulder straps. At its centre, a shorter one ascended to the back-ring of my collar, joining the whole network together and preventing me from shrugging out of it, or in any way escaping the restricting and uncomfortable encasement of my upper body and breasts.

With my tongue still numb, I attempted to protest having to wear this medieval apparatus, trying to bend my cuffed arms enough to pull at it, but the two chaperones brushed them away with impatient, silent ease and brought over a pair of weird looking, shoulder length gloves. In dawning awareness I noted that they didn’t have any fingers or thumbs. There were only small, rigid, elongated, and ovoid-shaped mitts where the hands should be. I stared stupidly down at them while the two women rapidly pulled the sleeves of the gloves up my arms and automatically, unconsciously, wriggled my fingers into the stiff, slightly curled little pockets within the ovoids at their ends, while they laced the arm-tubes at my shoulders. The top 15 cm of each lacing slit was covered by a wide leather cuff and these were tightly buckled, then locked securely in place. The silvery rings of my cuffs had popped through the metal-rimmed slots and I stared with growing concern at their contrast to the gleaming, black leather that now rigidly encased my arms.

Within the mitts I tried to move my fingers and thumbs, only to find that they were completely isolated from each other by dense, slightly resilient foam rubber. My hands had been taken completely away from me and there was no possible way for me to get out of the mitts by my own efforts.

The Arab man re-entered the room and returned to the suitcase. I shivered with apprehension when he came to me with a handful of glittering chain, a short, shiny steel bar and some small, but obviously high-security locks. He watched intently when the chaperones pulled a thick, black satin blouse over my head, guiding my useless, mittened arms down its wide sleeves and foolishly, I felt a little better at being now ‘decently’ covered. I tried not to breathe in too deeply, for each time I did, the small spikes within the bra cups hurt abominably, making me give out small gasps and moans from the pain of their pressure on my breasts and n*****s. There was some movement behind me when the chaperones found the eyelets sewn into the sleeves of the blouse, just above my elbows, then teased the inner rings from my cuffs through them. Then, after inspecting their work and receiving a veil-muffled nod from them, he walked behind and clipped one end of the short steel bar to my right above-the-elbow cuff. One of the black clad ghosts held me upright around the waist, then he grabbed my other arm and slowly pressed it behind my back and closer to the right one. I didn’t resist and so he easily drew my elbows close enough together to allow the lock-equipped end of the short bar to snap closed through the ring on the other cuff. For a moment nothing further happened, then he began doing something with this shaft so that it shortened itself and my elbows were slowly drawn together until they were separated by a span of only five cm. Now whining and twisting frantically, I pulled my arms against the uncomfortable restraint, but they were already held tightly against my body, despite all the twisting and straining I did to ease the posture that forced my breasts more deeply into the spiky embrace of the tight cups. I fluttered my lower arms around in their now severely-limited freedom, trying to use them to somehow protect myself.

“Please?” I begged, more than a little frightened now, tugging against the shaft joining my elbows. “Please, take that off. I want to get out of the boots and the gloves too,” I whimpered, trying to articulate around the bars and balls impaling my tongue.

“Miss Henderson, you must relax,” he chided me. “This is how all female Employees are dressed and equipped whenever they travel outside the Palace. Please do not worry too much about it. You will be partially freed on arrival at His Majesty’s dwelling.”

“Please! ... Please!” I wailed, watching him when he crouched down beside me and affixed narrow metal straps between the outer rings of the thigh-bands and others on my concealed ‘Belt protruding through the tightly clamped waistband of the long line bra. These metal garters ensured that the boots were kept firmly stretched and attached, and made them utterly irremovable. He next joined the inner rings of my upper thigh-bands to each other with another of the small locks, then my knees were connected by a very short metal bar. One of the women brought over a long, voluminous black skirt, flipped it over my head and let it settle down around my compressed waist, then strapped its wide, leather waistband closed over the corset/bra combination and the hidden chastity belt, allowing its rings to protrude through the thick material.

While I stood helplessly subject to their attentions, the two women adjusted the floor-length, full skirt and he took another short length of chain, then bent down and raised the weighted hem of the skirt. Seconds later, he’d connected my ankle-cuffs to each other with it, then he allowed the thick material to drop and cover my hobble. Next, he pulled the hem around a little, and once more I felt some movement, this time from the outer ankle-cuff rings projecting through their slots in my boots.

There were a couple of muted little clicks, then he stood and again commanded me to walk around the room. I almost tripped when I took my first chained steps, but he walked beside me while I stumbled forward, trying to get used to all the new restrictions I was now subject to. I was surprised at the weight of the thick skirt when it swung against my boot-encased legs and how it closely followed every restrained step I took. Although I couldn’t see it, the reinforced hem had also been locked to my ankle cuffs, preventing it from being raised to reveal my state of bondage. I was nearly fully clothed now, and no one could possibly know of how thoroughly I was bound under my garments, but my costume would soon become even more concealing, and restricting.

The plugs locked within my abdomen were a source of constant discomfort and together with the continual caressing of the c******l stimulator, quickly had me moaning in unending agitation while I tried to swing my legs against their multiple hobbles. I slowly began to realise just how much of a prisoner I’d been made and started to feel sorry for myself, beginning to panic now while I fought the chains, locks, and other parts of the Uniform that held me as a secretly-restrained prisoner. Uncalled for tears trickled down my cheeks from suddenly overflowing eyes.

He continued guiding my faltering steps, my partially restrained arms flailing while I tried to walk with something resembling a normal gait.

“I c-c-can’t walk like this,” I wailed hopelessly.

“Miss Henderson, you’re doing just fine,” he soothed me. “All you need is a little practice, and you’ll soon get plenty of that.”

I felt foolishly pleased at being complimented, and finally he allowed me to turn and face him. I smiled tremulously, but he suddenly became serious once more, commanding me to put my mittened hands in front of my waist. My tentative smile of hoped-for approval slipped away and I tried to do as he demanded, but the leather of the arm-tubes, their constricting cuffs, and my elbow bonds prevented me from bending or moving them very much. My inability to follow his command was of little importance though. He grasped each of the rigid ovoids of my mitts, then expertly joined the inner rings of my hidden wrist cuffs together with a short length of chain and two locks, passing it through the protruding front ring of my chastity belt, almost but not quite rendering my encased hands motionless. Naturally, I pulled my wrists against this tight linkage, attempting to free them or at least ease the strain, but I was now utterly helpless, what with my elbows also connected behind my back_

“Well, M-Master,” I tried to joke with him, “now I’m your helpless, bound captive. What’s next?”

He didn’t reply, giving me only an enigmatic smile while he gathered a handful of the fine chains dangling from the rings in my nose and ears. Angrily, I shook my head to be rid of these annoying encumbrances, feeling them flail and tug uncomfortably when I did, but they remained firmly attached to their rings and made me wince at the pain caused by the jerks of their oscillating weights. I looked up at him, holding their ends in his dark-skinned, strong fingers.

“Miss Henderson, it is now the time for you to be placed in the balance of your Travelling Uniform. All females in the employ of His Majesty must wear the full ensemble while in public. You are no exception.”

The two chaperones brought over a head-piece and cloak garment similar to theirs, placing it over my shoulders with its deep hood hanging down my back, then began closing it from the floor upwards, concealing the locks hidden in the folds of the skirt’s outer hem. I stood passively while they buttoned it to waist level, then they both turned questioningly to the man when he returned from the suitcase yet again, another strange thick rubber device held negligently in his hands.

“Please lift your chin, Miss Henderson. Then, I want you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue so that I can fit you with your Silencer,” he commanded.

After a brief look at the strange and horrifying contraption, I clamped my mouth firmly shut and tried to back away from him, writhing against my now almost invisible restraints. With teasing ease he backed me towards a corner of the room, again grasping the chains to my nose and ears, but leaving enough slack in them for me to back-pedal away from him. He brought me up short with a sharp, painful jerk, and I howled at the sudden terrible pain from my nose and ears. I had to stop where I was while he grinned cruelly at my helplessness. When he tugged gently on the thin but obviously strong links, I had no choice but to allow him to draw me slowly and reluctantly back to the table. I stood beside him, trembling and all the while staring with horror at the thing he held in his other hand.

“Wh-what the Hell is that thing,” I gasped, wincing at the pain of the chain leashes being kept under tension.

“This, Miss Henderson, is a specially designed silencing device that each of His Majesty’s females must wear in public ... and most of the time in private, also. If you are in His presence and you have been fitted with this device it allows him to concentrate on his work. Eventually, you’ll soon get used to wearing a Silencer and you’ll find that it won’t be too painful or uncomfortable; provided you don’t try to fight it. Most females find that it’s really quite bearable once they’ve worn it for six months or so and they have become used to the idea that it’s locked in place and cannot be removed by your own efforts. But you, my dear, will have to discover that path to acceptance for yourself I’m afraid.”

“No! Please! Please, don’t put it on me,” I turned to him, begging unashamedly, and saw the locking devices that would hold it in place, gleaming in the bright overhead light. “I-I d-d-don’t want to wear that,” I wailed and started to cry, trying to back away, twisting futilely against my bonds.

“Please, sir! I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. Please! Don’t make me wear that-that horrid thing.”

“Female Employees are required to wear their veils and Silencers at all times, especially when travelling outside the Harem, Miss Henderson. So, you might as well get used to the idea. Really, only the first six months or so are the worst and after that you’ll just accept it as a fact of your new life.”

So saying, he held it in front of my terrified, tear-brimming eyes and I saw that there was a large, smooth, thick, black rubber pad projecting inwards from the centre of a wide strap, inside the rubber-lined cup for my lower face. He tired of the coddling.

“Miss Henderson,” he commanded, “kneel before me, open your mouth as much as you can and stick out your tongue. Now!”

He jerked on my leashes and I screamed from the sudden pain, then tearfully and utterly helpless, resignedly obeyed. He gently pushed the thick pad into my mouth and told me to wriggle my tongue around a little. When I did, I felt the balls on its upper surface slide into five slots in the underside of the gag-pad, locking resolutely in place. I tried to pull my tongue away only to feel a flash of pain from each of the piercings and another scream, this time strangled, erupted from my steel-encased throat while he slowly pushed the whole assembly deeper, then I felt it pop past my teeth and fill my entire mouth.

With a little moue of temper before the chin cup clamped firmly against my lower face, I had to accept the horrible instrument, nearly gagging from its intimate restriction, all the while writhing against my restraints and attempting to kick my pinioned legs in a small show of rebellion. He continued to push until the cup pressed snugly against my lower face and chin, completely covering my lips and mouth under a smooth, gleaming rubber cover. Inside, I felt the back part of the pad begin to slip partially down my spasming throat, as had the tongue depressor. It was horrible and I couldn’t get out of it.

I stared up at him, trying to blink away the tears of humiliation in my eyes, while he reached around under my cascading hair and joined the wide strap that had passed below each of my ears, at the back of my head. Suddenly, the inner, over-lip strap tightened, firmly pressing them against my teeth and sealing my mouth, then the loud click of the lock ensured that no one would be able to remove the horrid device without the correct key. I felt another set of securing straps on either side of my collar as yet other locks anchored the gag firmly to it also, ensuring that I’d have to turn my whole body from side to side if I wanted to look at something not directly in front of me.

I couldn’t spit the thing out or talk; able now only to make low moans of protest and discomfort, deep in my throat. I wanted to retch from the sensation of the gag pad being forced so far back into my mouth, but he only watched me silently while I tried to become used to the awful thing. When I unthinkingly tried to ask him again to take it off, my tongue pulled painfully at the steel posts that locked it to the gagging pad and I automatically tried to scream from the pain, but only a small hissing wail whispered from my fear-flared nostrils. For long moments I knelt shivering before him, bent over, fighting against my bondage and struggling automatically to escape the continual sensation of the thing being buried so deeply in my mouth. That wasn’t the end of it being fastened to my head, for he next brought up a set of thin straps on either side, just in front of and behind my ears and locked them tightly over my hair, these pulling the cup ever more tightly around my jaw and forcing me to bite down on the thick pad. The last, thin straps ascended on either side of my nose, up between my eyes, over the bridge of my nose, to be clipped to the one over the top of my head, completely imprisoning me within the horrid silencer. In a frenzy of panic at being so thoroughly gagged, I again tried to escape it, but a sudden jerk on the chains attached to what I had initially thought was jewellery, quickly brought me back to my new reality. Once more in a welter of tears, I submitted while he applied tension to the chains, urging me wordlessly with it, to stand before him, shaken and terrified.

“There, there, Miss Henderson,” he soothed, paternally patting my shoulder as though this was an everyday occurrence that a female just had to accept as her lot in life. I gasped through my ringed nose and shook with fear and distress, trying to accept that I was a silenced prisoner in a terribly uncomfortable costume. “You’ll soon see that everything will be all right if you manage to just relax.”

“MMmmmmggghhhppphhh,” I wailed from behind my sealed lips.

“Now, just hold still while I connect your nose-ring to your gag,” he murmured, reaching up and pressing my nose-ring against a fitting set into the sturdy, black rubber horror clamped over my lower face.

While I continued to stare up into his cruel eyes, he flipped a small locking mechanism on the front of the face-cup over the dangling circlet, clamping it firmly, and incorporating it into my gag. It placed just enough tension on the nose-ring to make my eyes water from the strain and I moaned pitifully at the added bondage. The nose leash chain remained attached and even though I shook my head again, what little I could after it was done, feeling the pull of my earring chains, the golden identity disks swinging from them, and the weight of the bells, nothing would free me.

The full facial veil was the next part of my concealment, and he pulled its rigidly-formed, thickly woven, black steel mesh cup, up to cover my face, then clipped it in position to the straps of the gag, thus hiding the fact that I wore a locked-on silencing device, a nose ring and leashing chain. Only my eyes were visible now, but even they were almost concealed behind a narrow, oblong window of finer, black steel screening. It was difficult for me to see very far because of the distorting and fuzzing effect that the tight mesh produced, but this wasn’t the end of my introduction to the role and dress of an enslaved Middle Eastern Woman. I was not to be permitted to raise my head in the presence of males, or while in the outer world beyond the Hareem. He grasped all of the chains dangling from my so-called jewellery, then gently pulled downwards on them, forcing me to lower my face and stare down at the concealed thrusting of my torturously encased breasts and the long, flowing, and restricting robes. Tears welled in my eyes behind their imprisoning, virtually blinding mesh and I wailed quietly to myself when the chain’s thrumming length pressed into the thick cotton of the blouse between my painfully compressed breasts. A second later it had been locked to the front ring of my ‘Belt between my chained wrists and mittened hands. The balance of the dangling golden lengths was tucked inside the already done-up portion of my outer cloak.

I was now forced to assume the properly demure and subjugated bearing for a Hareem girl and could only stare humbly and numbly downwards at the swell of my hidden breasts and the gently swaying folds of the long skirt and cape that were as much restricting as the more blatant bondage equipment they hid.