The Contract

Chapter Eight-1

Chapter Eight

Transported

Much later the Interviewer arrived, then walked to the middle of our circle of waiting, frightened women and began speaking in his cultured English accent.

“Ladies,” he stated brightly, “you will soon be placed aboard His Majesty’s aircraft. I am very pleased to see that you have all decided to sign for the Full Contract and can assure you that we will certainly endeavour to fulfil the Employer’s obligations, in all respects. Of course, we shall expect the same diligence from you.

“Now, you have all had the opportunity to assure yourselves of the reality of the monies signed for. You may rest assured that money is not an object when it comes down to fulfilling His Majesty’s desires. As far as your coming journey is concerned, ladies, it will indeed be much less arduous for you than if you had been taken even some 20 years ago. Now, you will be flown to your new home in air-conditioned comfort, there being some 18 hours between your former freedom here, and your future lives as Hareem Slave Girls. During the trip you will remain in your Travelling Uniforms, then upon arrival at the Hareem, you will be fitted with whatever other Uniforms and jewellery His Majesty deems appropriate, or, as is more than likely, you will just be left in your Basic Uniforms.

“You may find it to be of some solace that you are not in the next group of female employees to be hired, as they will be transported in much more stringent and secure conditions than you presently enjoy,” he stated ominously. “Further detailed instructions will be issued upon your arrival. Have a pleasant journey.”

He left when the two burly men returned and they soon began taking us to the aircraft in tethered pairs. Each set of girls freed seemed to have the same thought in mind as soon when they were released from their posts: struggling violently but silently against their leashes while they were dragged from the room, twisting and writhing frantically, kicking futilely against their hobble chains. The only sounds though, were the metallic clashing of their ankle chains while they were dragged out of the room and over to the aircraft, silently screaming for release into their gags. At the stairs, the guards easily pulled them up and inside in a flurry of black robes. The scrapings and taps of our high heels on the hard concrete floor together with the muffled jingles of our chains while we awaited our turns to be taken to the aircraft were the only sounds in our waiting room. Once inside the aircraft we were each seated in a comfortable, First Class style seat, then once more strapped securely in place; our hobbles and collars fastened to sturdy rings embedded in the structure of the seats. Twelve women attendants, now minus their concealing capes, thus revealing their own rings and wire-restrained hands, and occasionally their ankles, moved quickly through the cabin, pulling back our hoods and removing our facial veils. Clear plastic tubes at each seat dangled from the overhead and these were soon connected to fittings on the fronts of our gags.

The cabin doors closed with a mechanical hiss and clunk and we were locked inside the aircraft. The crew didn’t bother with the usual oxygen-mask song and dance routine, instead giving us a much scarier and foreboding set of announcements. A heavily-accented voice came over the PA system and informed us that we would be able to drink by sucking on our gag pads, then it cautioned that we would only be released for washroom breaks four times during the trip, a length of some 18 hours, but other than that, we would remain fastened to our seats.

I turned with difficulty and stared at my seat-mate and she at me. We each looked with horror at the other’s nose rings and tight gags, our faces equally tear-streaked. Her blue eyes were wide with terror above the gleaming rubber horror that tightly cupped her lower face and each time we tried to raise our heads, the fine chain leashes snapped tight between our ‘Belt rings and their mountings in our ears and noses, starting fresh torrents of tears. I watched with sympathy, while in her lap her mittened hands tugged and twisted against the locks and chain that held them in place and under the satin blouse, her chest heaved with stifled yelps when the little rubber points inside her bra cups dug fiercely into her breasts. We looked hopelessly at each other and tried to express our horror and distaste at how thoroughly we were bound, the drinking lines swaying in front of our faces. The chaperones came back down the cabin, tightening loose belts, easing the tension on our nose and earring chains and generally arranging us for the coming journey. It seemed a horribly long, complicated, and drawn-out process.

Shortly after the last girl was properly fastened, I heard the aircraft’s belly doors thump closed and twisted around to watch out the window when the hangar was opened to the night. The plane was towed slowly from the huge building, then there was a long pause while the engines were started. I heard their deep rumbling when they were run up, then some minutes later, the front of the hangar beside us slid away when the plane taxied ponderously out and onto the blue-lit taxi-way. We each strained against our bonds to catch a last, gagged, glimpse of home.

The aircraft waddled slowly along, then swung slowly out onto the end of the runway and paused. A moment later the engines began to bellow in a thunderous, low-pitched, penetrating roar and the glaring white lights marking the sides of the runway began to slide past the cabin windows with ever-increasing speed until they dropped away into two, parallel, rapidly receding lines of insignificant points of luminance, soon obscured by clouds while we ascended westward over Vancouver Island and into the night toward our destiny.

We were journeying into an area that none of us could be sure she would ever emerge from and the cabin filled with gag-strangled, hopeless sobs while we each confronted our fates for the next five years. In retrospect, we all knew, now, that we would probably have had an easier time of things by just going to jail, than what we had done to ourselves.

Like all flights, after the rush and thunder of take off, everything became boring in the extreme, especially chained and strapped down as we were, unable even to talk, and most of us too scared to try against the painful piercing and impaling of our tongues. Nearly an hour later, the plugs within our chastity belts began their assault again and the process of turning us into s*x addicts continued unabated while we moaned and thrashed futilely, bound to our seats. It did no good whatsoever, but we still threw our heads around, pulling and kicking at our bondage, trying to avoid or alleviate the sensations. After a while, I became uncaring of how I was being teased and the ever-growing discomfort of the rubber, spike-lined, bra cups clamped over my breasts; hungry only for the blast of an orgasm after my first token resistance. The tightly-compressing cups and corset hurt continually, for the spiked linings pressed more deeply into my breasts with each gasping breath and my shoulders ached from the tight straps snared down into them. But then, slowly and horribly, I began to feel a tingling sensation emanating from the tip of each cup and flowing through the tender, sensitive flesh of my rampant n*****s. It sent me into even more frantic paroxysms of writhing and shaking, fruitlessly attempting to get my useless hands and fingers at the rigid cups clamped onto my chest, armouring my breasts. Intellectually, I knew I couldn’t do it, but I desperately wanted to tear them off and escape the escalating sensations when my n*****s engorged with blood, lengthening and hardening even further into the sharp, pressing points inside. During a respite, I watched the others while they, too, were subjected to the same teasing, but a moment later I was again too busy concentrating on trying to resist the insidious stimulation to care what was happening to my sister slave girls anymore. Within the rigid cups my breasts swelled even more against their confinement while the waves of the small shocks gradually escalated, making the captured and inaccessible flesh within throb and twitch with sensations I never knew existed.

Sometime much later the chaperones pulled the window shades down and the cabin lights dimmed. They prepared a screen at the front of our compartment and in a few minutes, movies of our new home began flashing on it, although from the commentary, no geographical data was revealed. We were left completely ignorant of just where in the Middle East we were being taken and even though I was amazed at the wealth displayed in the film, eventually I got bored. Completely wrung out from the events of the day, the after effects of the relaxant drugs, my forced orgasms while gagged, and my exertions fighting my bondage, I fell soundly asleep, strapped and chained helplessly to my seat.

During our washroom breaks, the chaperones took each of us to the toilets and, after removing the locks holding down the hems of our skirts, they’d lifted the heavy material up to our waists with one hand and, with the other, would attach some sort of hose arrangement to our crotch bands. We would have to accomplish what we had been brought in for, standing there before them in total embarrassment. It was humiliating in the extreme, but even worse was the sucking sensations, then the blasts of warm and cold water within the crotch piece to cleanse us. Naturally, we were kept fully chained for the entire procedure. I fought against these indignities each time, but they put a quick end to my resistance with sharp tugs on my nose and ear chains.

Painful eons later, we eventually landed in the middle of a blazing day. When the window shades were raised, all that could be seen was a vast, golden desert, stretching to infinity in every direction.

The aircraft taxied slowly in towards a single, small, camouflaged hangar where a cluster of military vehicles escorting a large van waited. The plane eased to a stop and the engines slowly spooled down to silence, then I realised with growing apprehension that I was close to my home for the next five years. The doors whined open after a few moments and heat began boiling into the cabin.

Veiled and black robed women quickly entered the aircraft and assisted our chaperones in releasing us from our seats, then they replaced our fully obscuring facial veils. When we stood, our outer cloaks were removed and we were led to the aircraft door. All of our escorting women, themselves captives of their chains and chastity belts, quickly connected us to each other, neck to neck and as well with another long chain fastened to the central ring of each of our short hobble chains, then led us out and down the stairs to the baking concrete. In a subdued line of chained female slavery, we were pulled over to the large trailer parked nearly a hundred metres away across the concrete apron, watched by a sea of implacable male eyes; all feasting on our concealed, chained beauty and enjoying our gagged, helpless state.

I hobbled across the baking ramp, acutely embarrassed by my leashes and the rattle of my silvery hobble chain while it swished back and forth between my booted ankles, occasionally swinging out from under the hem of my long skirts. I walked in tears to the rear ramp and staggered up into the trailer. Inside, a pair of the black-robed women pulled me to one side, disconnected my leashes from the coffle, and immediately short-chained me to a high wall ring by the one from the back of my collar, leaving the rest of it to dangle down the wall, clattering noisily, swaying back and forth in diminishing arcs. Two more chains were quickly fastened between the side rings of my ‘Belt and other wall rings, forcing me to stand closely against the steel side of the trailer, then a final, short set of links joined the central ring of my hobble to a floor ring, securely attaching my feet. Once we were inside, there was nothing to do but stare silently and hopelessly at each other from behind the fine, vision-restricting mesh of our veils. Some of the girls still struggled weakly against their bondage, but of course it did them no good, for it was all still as tightly secured as when it had first been applied.

The large back door of the trailer closed and beneath my feet I felt the rumble of machinery when the ramp was retracted. Slowly, the truck drove off into the trackless, desert wastes, carrying us further and further away from any connection to our former lives. The raw, hostile, and sun-blasted wasteland engulfed us in its trackless sandy dunes, and for another three hours we swayed tiredly against our fastenings while the truck penetrated deeper and deeper into the wilderness of scrub thorn, shredded rock and blowing dust. Finally, the wheels that for so long had jarred on every gully and boulder of the goat track that was dignified by the word ‘road’, ceased their unending jolting and the truck ran onto a smooth surface. We all shifted fearfully against our chains, each knowing that we’d very soon reach our ultimate destination. The body of our conveyance was windowless but for two tinted skylights and we had been kept in air-conditioned semi-darkness for the entire trip, reminding me of the gilded cage parable. Finally though, we were going to see what we’d gotten ourselves into.

When the truck eventually stopped and the door swung open, two huge, glistening, black men in Arabian Night’s Eunuch costumes entered and released us from fastenings, then rapidly and efficiently reconnected the twelve of us neck to neck and ankle hobble chain to ankle hobble chain once more and led the group out into the sumptuous hallways of a grand Palace. We passed many more of the huge, black-skinned warriors while we penetrated deeper into the fortress, seeing only a few other women along the way. Every one of them wore cuffs and collars like ours. Also, beneath the diaphanous harem pants that some of them wore, I saw that each also wore a securely locked chastity belt. Without exception, each of the females I saw had her hands connected to her ‘Belt by sturdy lengths of chain as well as wearing a short hobble. In addition, everyone was fitted with high-heeled shoes or boots, locked to their ankle stirrups, like ours, and while most of them suffered the same gags we wore, there were some that didn’t. I immediately and deeply envied those women their freedom to talk and wondered how I would ever be able to reach that exalted state. All were beautiful, ranging from blonde Nordic goddesses, to Irish colleens, peaches and cream-complexioned British girls, sultry Italians, exotic Negresses, Eurasian mixed beauties, and delicate Oriental dolls. Even the classic West Coast beach-bunny type was represented. Without exception, all of the women I saw were under some type of visible and inescapable external control; leashed by a man, or held standing patiently, chained to one of the tens of thousands of rings inset into the walls and floors, waiting for whatever was next planned for her.

Our group was eventually led up a long ramp into a large, round chamber, then the Guard slowly drew us around the wide top step, stopping every few feet and detaching one of us. Another would take whoever it was, and lead her to a wide pillar between a pair of doors, one closely barred and the other of gleaming chrome, and there quickly connect the end of a long chain to the back ring of her collar with a heavy, steel-cased lock. The chain was attached to the wall some two and a half metres above floor level at the top of thick and gleaming bronze plate, and after checking to ensure that she was truly and securely held a prisoner, he’d silently signal the Eunuch leading our little procession of veiled females to the next ‘station’ around the wall, where the whole process was repeated. Within five minutes of entering Harem Module Number Nine, we were all individually leashed to wall rings, equally spaced around its perimeter. We stood, still muffled in our full Travelling Uniforms, terrified of what would happen next, but the men departed down the ramp we’d entered by and the thick steel door crunched down behind them, leaving us gagged and alone once more.

For a long time we all stayed exactly as they left us, trying to get used to the feel of our dragging chain leashes and the weight of the large steel lock bumping against our upper backs. I couldn’t avoid staring down at the floor and seeing the heavily-linked stainless steel chain that was my new mentor. I felt so captive. ‘How can I ever get away from this place?’ I wailed to myself, in nearly hysterical tears again.

A long time later the door to our Module hissed open to allow a bevy of the ‘native’ Maids inside, then closed rapidly after the last one entered. All wore the same type of restraints and gags that we bore, except that their chains were long enough to permit them to move relatively freely. They had each been given an individual set of keys to our locks, and after coming to where we still stood, began to remove our gloves and outer clothing; packing them away in heavy steel-banded trunks around the wall. Finally, they removed our bras and I sighed with relief from the punishment of having to wear it, staring down in distress at the deep indentations that the spike-lined cups had left in my breasts. The man who had been our Interviewer back in Vancouver entered just as they finished and walked around the chamber, greeting us each by name. He instructed the Maids to remove our elbow bars, but left our wrists still closely connected while they equipped each of us with longer hobble chains. Like all the others, I massaged myself as best I could, even though my wrists remained securely connected to my chastity belt. In the future we were told, while in the Palace of our Master, we would wear only our cuffs, collars, gags, ‘Belts and chains; occasionally being permitted to wear the very sheer and diaphanous hareem costumes over them, except when being disciplined. That would be an entirely different ball game, as we would find out soon enough.

The Maids removed our boots and fitted our hareem shoes, locking the heeled horrors to our stirrup bands and denying us any chance to relax our strained feet and leg muscles. Like the boots, there was no possibility of removing them.

The Interviewer told us to kneel on the cushions before us, then began to explain our situation more fully.

“Welcome, Slave Girls, to your new life,” he began…