The Contract

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

The Fittings

The next morning they were both awake when I emerged from the bedroom and went for my shower. At the breakfast table, they each daintily ate a small meal of toast with jam while still wearing their veils, and drinking their large glasses of fruit juice through straws that disappeared up under their lower facial coverings as though unwilling or unable to take them off. I grabbed a quick coffee and some toast, then dressed in clothing I hoped reflected my new status as a millionairess. After that, I found it hard to wait patiently for the limousine to show up, but around 11:00, the buzzer sounded and the three of us trooped down to the waiting, grey Rolls.

We certainly got some curious looks from passers-by when we emerged from the front door of the modern glass and steel tower I lived in, but I ignored them while I was closely escorted from the door under the portico by the chaperones, one on either side of me still. They guarded me against everyone who even appeared to want to come close. The same, black-robed and enveloped Chauffeuse held the door for us and the first chaperone slid into her seat with more tinkles and rattles from her hidden jewellery, then me, then the other one. This routine was beginning to irritate me a little, but I said nothing and dreamt again of all those zeros. The door thumped quietly closed, shutting out the background of the city noises, and for a few seconds, the three of us sat in silence while the Chauffeuse strutted in her dainty fashion, around to her door. Once she’d closed it, she again took a long time to get settled, making me wonder just what she was doing.

Little did I know it at the time, but as soon as she sat down she always had to connect herself to her restraint system; fastening her ankles first, then her seat harness system, the back of the collar leash, and finally placing her wrists in their confining mountings at her waist if she was not driving. It wasn’t apparent, but she had to sit and wait with horrible expectation while a compartment under her buttocks opened a slit in the seat and another discreet one in the back of her tight skirt, then rapidly connected a thick set of cables to her steel-imprisoned, lower body. Once this connection had been made, the computer in the car then ran a very fast systems check on her Uniform. Much later, I found out that this testing involved quite nasty and painful shocks through her uterus, c******s, rectum, and breasts. Fastened as firmly and securely as she was though, there was virtually no movement permitted to her, and she was unable to even kick her booted legs, thanks also to her tight skirt, the almost rigid boots and her connected ankles eliminating all movement of her legs.

All I saw was that she stiffened and twitched in her seat when she was tested by the computer monitoring system, then seemed to slump forward a little. A moment later her hands rose slowly to the steering wheel and we were off. The drive through the rain-shrouded city and up into the lower reaches of the surrounding, evergreen-covered mountains of the North Shore was nearly an hour in length and I was glad to get out when we finally arrived at the exclusive institution hidden behind high hedges and a forbidding, huge stone wall. The remotely-controlled gate had swung open when the Rolls approached, then closed behind us when we whispered up the long, curving drive to the front of the building. Once we’d stopped at the front, the car door’s electric locks clicked open and the chaperones silently urged me out. I quickly slid from the warmed leather seat into the cold, drizzly air and hustled to the thick, bronze front door of the ivy-covered building, for I wanted to be inside and warm, not out there in the cold November rain. One of my chaperones took a small plastic card from her robes and slipped it into the reader beside the doors, then after a second’s hesitation, they slid quietly aside. I was quickly escorted through the entrance foyer and over to a large, panelled elevator, then this smoothly descended two floors. The whole place seemed to be empty of patients, although in the background I heard the noises of others going about their business while I was guided to a small, comfortably-appointed Examining Room. I looked around for something to give me some sort of clue as to what was going to happen next, but could find nothing that gave even the smallest hint, until, finally, one of the black-garbed women gestured peremptorily and silently for me to remove my clothing.

I found it a little embarrassing, having to disrobe before their dispassionate gaze, but after some hesitation, and with the thought of ‘Oh well, we’re all girls here’, I stripped off and lay on the examining table. One of them pulled a funny feeling and quite thick white rubber sheet over me, then walked to the side of the room and sat on a straight-backed chair next to her companion. They both continued watching while I lay blushing and a little nervous about the whole, strange scene.

A doctor entered some moments later and proceeded to give me a most complete physical; being properly, clinically removed and distant while he performed all of the minor indignities that doctors do when examining a female patient. Finally, while I was being weighed, he asked me to remain standing and left the room. One of my chaperones brought over a measuring tape and some other strange looking equipment sealed in sterile bags, then expertly took the fullest and most embarrassing set of measurements I’d ever had done. They measured the circumferences of each of my breasts, the distances between my n*****s and, most embarrassing of all, the length and diameter of tampons that I could comfortably accept within my s*x and anal cavity. At times during the process, I couldn’t help but blush scarlet with humiliation and discomfort, but I endured it, looking forward to that two and a half million dollars.

In the meantime, her companion made note of all measurements on a laptop computer, then plugged it into the room’s internet connection and sent the data whizzing off into the ether. The other held out my clothes while I got dressed, then a few moments later the doctor returned.

“Miss Henderson, please follow your chaperones into the next room. There, you’ll be given your dental examination and some very detailed impressions will be made,” he instructed.

“Oh,” I exclaimed, having forgotten about this part of the process.

The two women went to the door and I followed them down a short corridor to another small examining room. Inside, it was fully equipped with the usual array of dental equipment and, without being told, I slipped onto the chair. A couple of seconds after I’d settled myself, another white smocked, Arabic-looking man entered and sat on a stool next to me, then the chair reclined until I was looking at the ceiling and I automatically opened my mouth. He slowly examined it with utter concentration, occasionally making comments in his native tongue to the black ghost with the lap-top, then when he’d finished probing and prying with his instruments, sat back.

“Now, Miss Henderson, I’m going to be taking some impressions of your mouth and teeth, in addition to making some other measurements of your head and face while these are being completed,” he informed me. “You’ll find the impression making process to be somewhat uncomfortable and you will be unable to speak while the compound sets, but don’t worry too much about it. The material cures quite slowly, but it is very exact. Just so you don’t get too worried by the process, you should know that we’ll have to keep your jaws quite widely separated until the moulds are finished curing and to do this we employ a special device that will hold you in the proper position, OK?”

“Well ... all right.” I nodded, a little dubiously, turning my head to watch while he mixed a dark, pinkish compound in a bowl on the counter, then scooped it into the trays that would fit over my teeth.

“Please open your mouth widely,” he requested, taking the upper tray and slipping it inside my mouth before jiggling it around until the rounded metal edges pressed up between my cheeks and gums, seating the gooey mess firmly. A moment later he did the same thing with the one for my lower jaw, making my mouth seem totally filled with the metal trays and the gooey compound they contained.

“Now, we have to spread your jaws somewhat Miss Henderson, to ensure that we can make an exact replica of your mouth,” he stated, reaching over to the counter and picking up a device that reminded me of a horse’s bit, complete with dangling straps.

“NnnnHHuuhhnn.” I gabbled back at him, looking a little fearfully at the thing he was holding.

“You will have to wear this for about half an hour I’m afraid,” he said, untangling the white plastic straps and bringing it to my face. “Please open your mouth a little wider and try to keep it that way while I adjust the spreader and the tongue depressor.”

“UUUnngghh,” I acknowledged wordlessly and did what he demanded, my eyes staring into the bright light above.

Cool metal arms slipped between the trays covering my teeth and I felt some thick, short, posts clip into mating holes with little metallic sounds. A second later, he slipped a wide, smooth metal plate between the trays, then pushed it far back into my mouth until it completely covered my tongue, depressing it slightly and extending far inwards, curving down at the back of my throat. I almost retched with the sensation of its deep penetration.

“You’re doing just fine,” he said comfortingly while he adjusted the fit of all the equipment now nestled between my jaws. “I’ll just lock it into place then you can lay back or sit up if you wish and relax until the compound sets completely. That will take about an hour.”

I indicated that I wanted to sit up and he immediately raised the chair. I thought that I’d suffocate if I had to lay back and suffer that awful thing rammed halfway down my throat. How little I knew of what was to come in my near future.

“Just lean forward a little, please, so that I can adjust the positioning straps,” he requested.

When I did, he pulled an inverted Y strap clipped to the paraphernalia in my mouth at the corners of my lips, up over the front of my face, leaving my nose projecting. He next passed a wide band around my head just above my eyebrows, buckling it snugly at the back. The tail of the Y went over the top of my head from its junction with the wide band on my forehead, then snugged another strap down across the top, from side to side, just above my ears. The front-to-back strap split at the rear of my head, just below the one encircling it, coming forward to join with the side-to-side ones, under my ears. He connected these two junctions with yet another short strap under my jaw, then took two more connecting bands from where the device inside my mouth pulled back the corners of my lips and clipped them to the web-work around my head. A final strap was passed from the junction under my left ear, around the nape of my neck and fastened under my right ear before being tightened until the whole web-work was uncomfortably snug and unyielding to my attempts to bite down, or shift my tongue under its depressor. Each time I tried, I almost retched from the sensation of the downward curving metal plate holding it firmly in place, pressed into the floor of my mouth.

“There, Miss Henderson,” he smiled down when I shook my head a little frantically against the ensnaring head harness. “Please try to keep your tongue still, as you’ll find it much more comfortable to wear this equipment. Also, please don’t try to talk while it is on, for as you’ve found out in the last minute or so, that can cause problems for you. Now, I’ll adjust the pressure on the trays and you can sit quietly and let the compound cure properly.”

“UUUnnnhh,” I tried to speak, but the tongue depressor completely stifled my attempt and I almost retched again, trying to sit up in the chair and bend forward, nearly choking.

“Yes, I know. It is somewhat uncomfortable at the moment, but you’ll get used to it in a minute or two,” he sympathised. “Just hold still while I adjust the pressure, please.”

Somewhat uncomfortable? It was distinctly that way. I stared at the wall in front of me, my vision partially-obscured by the straps coming up from the corners of my mouth, while he reached down and began turning two knurled knobs at the corners of my mouth. Slowly, my jaws were forced even further and further apart while he kept adjusting them. For the first few seconds I just sat and endured, my mouth filled with the metal equipment, but then the pressure on my jaw began to get very uncomfortable and I wailed in protest.

“UUUnnn! NNgghhhhh!”

“Please relax, Miss Henderson,” he snapped as I flailed in the chair. “We’re almost there.”

“HHhnnnghh! UUnnnhhnnnngggh!”

“OK,” he exclaimed happily even though my jaw felt like it was going to come unhinged. He looked down at me. “Now I want you to keep quite still. I’m going to connect the positioning straps of the harness to others on the chair here to hold your head in place.”

I heard a faint jingle of metal on metal, then there was a series of small clicks. One of them was at the top of my head and the other two on either side, just in front of my ears. He pulled the strap at the top tight, drawing my head firmly into a small depression in the cushioned back of the chair, then quickly tightened the two side straps so that I couldn’t turn or move my head at all_

“That’s very good, Miss Henderson,” he said quietly. “There are a few last little chores for me, then I’ll leave you until it’s time to remove the trays.”

He reached over to the counter and picked up what looked a little like a bent-tip magic marker. His hand moved to my widespread mouth and I felt a firm, blunt point press briefly through five holes in the metal depressor, about halfway back and just to either side of the centre of my tongue and the last one near the tip. I arched my eyebrows at him inquisitively, but he must have missed my unspoken inquiry for he turned back to the table. The next thing he did was to take two, small metal cones with their tips open and insert them into each of my nostrils. He pressed them slowly deeper and deeper until my nostrils were fully dilated, then with a narrow strap connected to them fastened it also to the sides of my head harnessing.

“Uuhhhnnngghh! Unngghh!” I gasped with the unfamiliar and definitely uncomfortable insertions, but was unable to avoid them.

“Please hold still while these measurements are made, Miss Henderson,” he cautioned me. “You’ll have to wear them until the compound cures and they’ll need to be tightened in a minute or two, after your flesh stretches.”

I really didn’t like the sensations of the things in my nose and was a little terrified by his telling me that they’d be pressed even deeper. True to his word, about five minutes later, he returned and pressed the awful cones even further up into my nostrils. I couldn’t stop my whines while he busied himself making note of some measurements, then to my surprise, used the same bent-tip marker. This he inserted far up into each nostril and pressed against my septum, then on the outer sides of my nostril wings, made similar markings.

‘What the Hell were those for?’ I wondered dazedly.

“I’ll see you in half an hour, Miss Henderson,” he said when he stood, then left the room.

A moment later my two chaperones began taking measurements from the graduated markings on the plastic straps ensnaring my head, measuring it and my face. These were also entered into the lap-top computer, and when they’d finished, both returned to their chairs. I was highly embarrassed to be seen in this head contraption and with the cones forced so deeply into my nose, but I couldn’t see them due to the manner in which my head was restrained, and after a moment I ignored their presence completely and concentrated on how I felt. I’d never before been forcibly immobilized as I was now and it felt quite strange, but surprisingly erotic. Without thinking, I tried to sit up even more, only to feel the firm tension of the head restriction system make itself known. I couldn’t move my head at all. My hands automatically rose to my face and I inspected the tight straps and the things in my straining mouth and nose by touch alone, lingering over the chromed buckles that secured the device to my head. Strangely, I couldn’t discern any way of opening them. After a few moments of this inspection I dropped my hands to my lap again and just sat there, listening to my breath hissing through my nasal cones, then whistling out around the steel in my mouth. I didn’t try to release anything again even though my jaws began to ache while time dragged past, but I couldn’t help the small moans of discomfort I uttered while I sat waiting; head-harnessed and secured to the chair.

The thing around my head wasn’t really uncomfortable. It just felt very strange and restricting. At the lower limit of my vision, I could see the metal of the various devices I wore, projecting outwards, making me feel as though I was equipped with a horse’s bit and bridle. Little did I know, then.

An eternity later, he came back, unlocked the jaw-spread and removed the intrusive nasal cones. Gratefully, I closed my mouth when the pressure was released and he quickly undid all the straps that had ensnared and restrained my head, then pulled the spreader from my mouth and extracted the plate that had held my tongue down. A moment later he began jiggling the trays to get them to release their grip on my teeth and gums until, at last, they came away with a distinct sucking sound. I moved my jaws to get rid of the small aches and gratefully accepted the proffered wad of Kleenex and glass of water to clean my face of the compound’s residue and rinse out my mouth.

“Miss Henderson, that’s all for today. Thank you for coming. I’d like to have you back here tomorrow for your inoculations,” he stated politely. “Also, I’d like you to take sets of these tablets tonight, just before you go to bed, and again at about four o’clock tomorrow morning.” He handed me a small vial and a sheet of instructions. “They’ll ease the absorbency of the shots which, by the way, cover a broad spectrum of diseases you might be exposed to in your new home. Although that possibility is unlikely in the extreme, we don’t wish to take any chances with your health, you see.”

“Tomorrow, after you receive your injections, you’ll be fitted with some of your new special jewellery, your Basic Uniform, and then your Travelling Uniform. After that’s been done, you’ll be driven to the airport, and from there flown to your new job.” He smiled and left before I could ask him for more detailed information.

The three of us were soon walking down the deserted corridors to the elevator, passing only a couple of nurses who gave us fleeting, curious glances. Once back in the waiting Rolls, I instructed the Chauffeuse to take me to the bank and when we arrived, the manager went all out to ensure that I and my two silent chaperones were given the royal treatment. I ascertained that I was indeed two and half million dollars richer and almost danced out the door on air when we left the grey, fortress-like building.

Back at the apartment and almost delirious with thoughts of my new wealth, I hastily got out of my clothes, slipped into a comfortable house-robe, then, later in the evening, sent out for pizza. We ate slowly with only the TV as background, but all the while the two women still remained resolutely silent except for the occasional clicking and small jingling sounds I heard from under their robes. Try as I might, I was unable to get them to talk or remove their voluminous and obviously encumbering clothing, and, after a while, I gave up. Little did I know that they too were gagged and under the constant monitoring and control of their Arabian masters, back at the hotel.

‘If they want to stay dressed that way, there’s not much I can do about it,’ I thought, not knowing, then, that they were utterly unable to escape their garments. Finally, much later in the evening after taking the prescribed medication, I again retired to my room. Sometime in the dark hours of the early morning a soft, constant knocking woke me and I drowsily popped another two tablets into my mouth, washed them down with a swig of water from the glass on the night table, then dropped off to an utterly dreamless sleep.