The Contract

Chapter Seven-1

Chapter Seven

The Journey Begins

The two chaperones completed the fastening of my cape and remaining head veils and this process speedily turned me into a silent, vaguely female shape under the concealing and muffling layers; completely helpless to escape, or even tell anyone of what had been done to me. They pulled the deep cowl hood up and forward over my head so that its rigid, heavily embroidered, gold and silver inlaid edges projected far to the front on either side of my forcefully lowered face, much like blinkers on a horse bridle, or the kind of things that nun’s used to have to wear. To hold it firmly in place, they snapped hidden, inner clips to small hooks on my head harnessing, ensuring that my peripheral vision was completely eliminated. Combined with having to wear the face and eye veil, I was almost blind. There was no question that I’d need assistance to move anywhere with any kind of confidence at all.

My Master, for that was how I now began to think of him, produced a pair of thick strap leashes made of dull, black leather and fumbled briefly at the back of my neck, under the deep cowl of my hood, until I felt the clicks of their snap hooks through the back-ring of my collar then left the heavy, snap hook-equipped straps to dangle down my back, outside the long cloak, almost invisible against its material.

“It is time to take her to her Holding Room,” he commanded, “while the rest of the girls are being prepared.”

My two chaperones, one on either side behind me, each holding tightly onto one of my leashes, followed him from the Examining Room and I was propelled along the hallway by their initial shove, then had to endure them both tugging continually on my tethers while they moved me along, reinforcing to me that I was under their total control. My head was bent forward within the deep cowl and so I saw only the swinging of my long and concealing skirts and the occasional glimpse of my Master’s shoes while we walked to the elevator bank. Our little procession passed a few of the usual assortment of hospital-type people on the way there and although they looked at us with curiosity for a moment or two, they didn’t seem to notice the straps connected to the back of my neck, held securely by my chaperones. I heard one or two snatches of the nurse’s comments as they walked by us.

“Jeez! There sure are some strange people in the world,” and...

“Those costumes are something else,” and finally...

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.”

I blushed furiously behind my veils and tried to yell for help, but my head-covering and silencer were designed and affixed in such a manner as to prevent just that from happening. Only a muffled hissing moan came from my impaled nose and they never heard it.

When we entered the elevator car it was already partially-filled with six or seven nurses and they crowded along the sides, staring curiously at me. My chaperones held the leashes firmly and quickly backed me against the far wall, then I felt a strong warning tug, making me jerk my head against the nose and earring chains, and trembled slightly from the sudden unexpected and undeserved pain. Behind the veil, my eyes filled again with helpless tears while I kept absolutely still for fear of a repetition. In the months to come, I would discover that there did not have to be a reason to make me suffer the most horrendous of punishments; just the desire and willingness of my Master or a member of his staff to make it happen. The elevator came to the main floor and my last hope of freedom rustled out after more curious glances at me and my escorts, then the doors slid silently together again and the elevator made a long, smooth descent, finally stopping at the second and lowest sub-basement.

I was urged to follow the man down a sparsely lit, narrow, painted brick passageway until we came to a securely locked steel door. He produced a key and the heavy portal swung open on silent, oiled hinges, then once inside the barren little chamber, this lit only by a single, dangling, naked bulb, I couldn’t really see much of it at all, other than the smooth, shiny, grey-painted concrete floor. We moved quickly across to the back wall with the muted clicking of my chains and the swish of my heavy robes being all that could be heard in the little cell, for that is actually what it was, and not a janitorial closet as the sign on the door indicated. My chaperones walked me to a very high stool, this positioned under a sturdy ring set deeply into the otherwise barren expanse of cement, then assisted me up onto it. I sat quietly for a few seconds, then felt the deeper thrusting of the awful plugs in my belly, and began to writhe my hips to find some sort of more comfortable seat. I couldn’t. It wasn’t painful, but I was vastly uncomfortable and the only thing I could do was to stare forlornly down at my heaving, clothing-muffled and imprisoned breasts, beginning to curse my greediness. My male captor moved beside me and grasped the heavy-duty leashes from the back of my collar, then lifted their ends and locked them to the ring with another of the sturdy locks, leaving only enough slack in its length to allow me to sit quietly and erectly; keeping a constant and painful tension on my facial chains. It was awful. The three of them turned away and left me perched there with my head bent; my steel collar solidly connected to the high ring, utterly silent, and completely concealed by my veil and robes.

“Miss Henderson,” he called from the doorway, “you will be left here until we are ready to take you to the airport. Please do not attempt to get off your stool, as the leash is far too short for your feet to reach the floor and there is a very real danger that you might strangle yourself. Please be careful.”

He flipped the light switch off, leaving me in the Stygian blackness, gagged, alone, and utterly helpless.

The thick door boomed shut behind them, then I faintly heard the rattle of its locks snapping closed, and was engulfed in a silence broken only by the subdued rattle and clinking of my hobbling chain. I shifted my booted feet under the enveloping robes and tried to make muffled exclamations of discomfort, fighting against the leashes to my nose and ears. The relaxants had been slowly disappearing for the last hour, but during the next two they disappeared completely, leaving me now fully cognizant of what had been done to me, and blazingly sensitive to all my new jewellery and bondage. I began to weep and occasionally tried to scream for help or assistance from behind the deeply intrusive gag-pad, only to have it make me retch and shiver in silent distress each time. I sat fearfully in silent desperation, fighting against the many cruel fastenings that had been applied to me, but I was utterly a prisoner and would be kept this way for the next five years of my life. Those thoughts horrified me beyond words.

Deep in the terrible blackness, I almost slipped off the stool a couple of times when I fought the cleverly applied bondage and the rush of adrenaline was incredibly fear-inducing when I felt myself begin to topple sideways, only to be brought to a strangling halt in my fall by the tight leash. The gag pad I had been fitted with was horribly efficient, for it utterly foiled any attempt at speech, and with my tongue locked into it, even if I had had the use of my hands and the strap was unlocked from around my head, there was no way that I’d be able to free my tongue jewellery from its mountings without that special key. Should I have somehow managed to free myself of the multiple locks, cuffs and straps, I’d still be locked in the room. Finally, I sat frightened and almost totally motionless, forced to wait and see what would happen next, my shoulders shaking violently while I wept at my stupidity and greed.

I blinked when the door was at last unlocked and the light snapped into painful brilliance for my dark-adapted eyes, even behind the shrouding of my veils and down directed gaze. A low keening wail was all I could manage when he came to me, accompanied by two, burly, business-suited men and I knew that they’d come to take me away. After a brief inspection, they unlocked my leashes from the wall-ring, then told me gruffly to stand up, helping me to step down to the floor. Each man fastened a thick, leather leading strap to the front ring of my ‘Belt through Velcro closed slits at the front of the cape, under my mittened hands, while the other removed one of my wall leashes. I had to stand passively and accept my tethering, for how could I stop them? What could I possibly do to escape or avoid what they planned next? Both took a tight grip on the loops of my leading straps, moving close and I was easily pulled out of the room with me between them, unable to resist. The other brought up the rear, closing and locking the door to the “Janitorial Supplies Closet” as soon as we’d left.

I was drawn rapidly along between them, my hidden chains making a muffled tinkling and clashing from the speed of their movements and I now recognised why the chaperones had always been accompanied by their clinking music. It was an apprehensive walk for me while I lurched along, slightly behind them at the thrumming limits of my two leashes. They wove their way through what seemed like endless lengths of deserted corridors, until we eventually arrived at the garage once more. While we were passing through the underground labyrinth, I tried to look around from within my restricting cowl and veils, desperate to see anyone who could come to my rescue, thinking that if we did, I could manage to fall down, or throw a fit, or anything. In the presence of other people, I might be able to escape what was happening to me. We met no one though, and even if we had, the tight, tugging straps prevented any lingering on my part. Only one of the mini-vans now remained when we entered the parking garage and I fought my tethers and bondage as much as I could, but they easily dragged me over to the vehicle and at its opened side door I was lifted into the capacious interior. They grabbed the leash straps close to my waist and jerked them upwards, for a moment suspending me by my hidden chastity belt alone, then swung me into the van. While I hung there in mid-air between the floor and the cargo compartment, my weight settled fully onto the cupped steel strap between my legs, driving the awful plugs deeper, and I mewled with the discomfort, thrashing my feet against their short hobble chains from the awful sensation of deeper impalement.

Once they had me inside, I was pushed into a single, centrally-mounted, skeletal seat, at the top of a thick post in the middle of the floor, in the back part of the van. They undid the front of my cape and efficiently strapped me in place with short, snap-hook-ended straps connected to the rings on my ‘Belt, then brought others, like the Chauffeuse’s, over my shoulders; anchoring me firmly. My hobble chain was pulled out from under the hems of my skirt and cloak and its large central ring was locked to a floor-mounted loop about a metre in front of the post supporting the chair, so that my feet were held straight out in front of me, angled downwards, completely off the floor and ensuring that I sat firmly impaled by the interior plugs on the chastity belt’s crotch band. They also connected the back ring on my collar to another on the high back of the seat so that I was forced to sit erect; unmoving but for my eyes and fitfully twisting, mittened hands, still locked securely at my waist. The side door slid closed with a solid thud and was immediately locked, then my captors climbed into the separated front compartment and drove from the garage with me seated alone in the back, completely isolated from the driver and his companion by a thick, darkened, armoured glass partition. I was barely able to look out the tinted windows if I twisted my body against the restraining straps hard enough, but no one could see me inside. Even if someone had been able to look into my compartment, all they’d have seen was a robed and veiled Arab woman sitting silently in her seat while being taken for a drive.

The city was soon flowing by, and I stared longingly at the sights of the everyday life so close, but now so far removed from me. With each bounce of the stiffly-sprung van, so unlike the Rolls Royce, my plugs surged and twitched, and I tried to howl around the penetrating horror in my mouth from the awful, invasive sensations, unable to resist their plunging. I gasped, fighting my fastenings with renewed fear while we got closer and closer to the airport, but I was their total prisoner and there was no way to avoid my fate.

Completely unexpectedly, the plug buried within my v****a and womb began buzzing, flexing, writhing, and twitching. I tried again and again to scream out in protest, desperate to stop this impersonal, intimate assault; my throat swelling with strangled howls and yells under the snug contours of my face mask and collar. It was no use and soon I was panting and writhing with wild agitation against my securing straps. Suddenly, a buzzing sensation against my c******s began to arouse me even further. Surging with uncontrollable squirming, I tried desperately to ignore the awful things inside me, but was unable to resist the spreading warmth from my centre. In addition, my breasts grew hard and sensitive within their imprisoning cups, pressing more firmly into the painful little rubber spikes. I clenched my eyes shut against the continuing impersonal assaults, shaking all over as though with a severe fever and almost passing out from the strain of having to breath only through my nose. For the rest of the trip I was too busy trying to resist the insidious teasing of the things inside me to do any sightseeing at all.

Somewhere along the way while passing down a rough, cobble-stoned street, I passed out with an explosive orgasm and when I returned to awareness, the van was swinging onto the tarmac at the airport and being driven directly into a large hangar on the south side of the airfield. The driver guided the vehicle into the cavernous building and he and his companion got out, leaving me alone for the moment, locked securely in the van’s back compartment. The hangar doors whined closed behind us, then joined together with a hollow, final boom. The buzzing of the dildo had mercifully stopped while I was unconscious, but I still panted erratically, slowly recovering my senses.

They returned long moments later and freed me from the seat, then assisted me from the van, more lifting me than anything and I was made to stand beside it on trembling, booted legs while they once more grasped the ends of my tethers. This time, although the allotted length of my leashes was greater than at the hospital, they easily pulled me across the wide floor to a room on the far side. I still tried to fight against the commanding tension with each step, desperate to escape, and they intentionally teased me while I was dragged along by letting the leashes slip through their fingers. I was permitted to make short, hobbled dashes away from them before they reeled me in and continued to lead me under a huge, gleaming jet. It waited, doors opened and mobile stairs pulled up, but for the moment I was not to be taken aboard for they pulled me through a door into the brightly lit room they had been walking toward.

Already inside were eleven other women, dressed exactly as I. All stood in a circle, fastened to sturdy posts bolted to the unadorned, oil-stained, grey concrete floor. Each was held in position by heavy leather straps connected between the side rings of her chastity belt and her post, and another from the back rings of her collar to its top. At floor level, a short connecting chain thrummed between their hobbles and the bases of the posts. Of course, I couldn’t make out any of their features, for each was as heavily-veiled as I and had her head bent forward under her deep hood. I could hear the swish of clothing when some of them shifted position and some muffled, faint, gasping sobs, but there were no cries for help, for their gags were as efficient and as punishing as was mine. The two men dragged me to the only available position and locked me to it, completing the set.

I tried to resist being secured, but it was hopeless and in a moment I too was fastened in place, unable to escape. We were left alone in the locked room for a long time while the jet was pre-flighted and I tried to inspect my fellow captives even though all I could see was their clothing-muffled bodies while they too strained to lift their heads against the tension of the chains from their noses and earrings. In that room, we all found that our tears and feelings didn’t matter anymore.

We were Slave Girls; available for the whims of our Master, whether we liked it or not.