SLAVE CONTRACT
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The Contract free porn video
The Contract
Chapter 1: Kirsten Returns
As the house came into view, Kirsten put down her bag and paused. What wasshe doing back here? She looked over her shoulder, down the drive, the wayshe had come, but the gate was already out of site, masked by the large treesthat surrounded the entire perimeter. Her cab was long gone. She picked upher bag again and walked on. The air was moist and still; there was no oneabout and only her footsteps, and an occasional cry from a bird disturbed thesilence.
She did not go to the main door – that was for guests, not for suchas herself. What was she? An employee, she supposed, since she had signed thecontract those months ago. She headed around the back. A narrow path led toa small green door set into the solid stone walls of the house. She punchedin the code for the combination, grasped the knob and turned. The door opened,allowing her to step through into the ante-room. A closer pulled the door gentlyclosed behind her until the lock engaged. Another combination lock was visibleon the inside. Kirsten thought nothing of it, but if she had tried it she wouldhave discovered that its code – the code needed to leave the house – wasnot the same as the one required for entrance, and it was not one that Kirstenknew.
The ante-room was about ten feet square. It had two doors, the one she hadentered by and another one opposite leading to the rest of the house. Therewere no windows, all the ample light coming from flourescent strips hiddenbehind panels in the roof. The walls were plain plaster, painted cream, theonly relief to this being the wide, full length mirror on her left. On herright, in front of the door, the only furniture: a medium-sized table. Theonly other item of note was the small, circular eyeball of the security camera,set into the ceiling.
Kirsten put down her bag and considered her image in the mirror. An attractiveyoung woman in a dark blue, formal suit. The fabric was well chosen, she thought.It made her 5'2" figure look taller, without in any way detracting from thefull curve of her hips. The skirt was too long to show much leg, but her blackcourt shoes and black stockings displayed her ankles well. Further up, beneaththe dark blue, her white blouse looked efficient and businesslike, but alsosubtly emphasised the other full curves of her chest. Her fair hair was shoulderlength – long enough anyway to frame her face, giving due prominenceto the height of her cheekbones, her deep set, grey-green eyes and her sensuallips.
The girl thought again: why had she come back? For many months she had thoughtof leaving this strange place, and then this opportunity to walk away. Shewas intelligent, she had qualifications: a PhD in Arabic History for one thing.She could easily have found alternative employment, and yet she had come backof her own free will.
Shrugging her shoulders, Kirsten turned to the table and considered the objectson it. There were two boxes, one large one open, and another, much smaller,closed and with a note on top of it. She picked up the paper: "Welcome back.You have been missed. The arrangements are as before. I shall see you thisafternoon." There was no signature, but only her - her what? Employer? couldhave written it.
Kirsten thought back to the contract. She still had no idea how she had beenfound, but her employer's lawyers had been very clear about the terms and conditions.She could never claim to have been deceived, except in so far as its very strangenessmeant that until she had experienced this life, she had no real idea what itwould mean. Fantasies, yes, but no notion of the day-to-day truth. The lawyershad also been clear about the duration and payment: a two-year initial period,five hundred thousand up front into a holding account, with regular statements,so she could see it grow, and another five hundred thousand when she had completedthe contract. But if she left early, nothing except her twenty five thousandsalary for the months worked. She had to live on the Estate and could leaveonly in exceptional circumstances, as she had just done for this funeral.
At the time, the contract had been easy to accept. It seemed like a fantasycome true. And she was after a new start anyway, and two years out of circulationfrom her old haunts – and hauntings – seemed the perfect solution.And then there was the money.
But that was before she understood exactly what she was required to do, orrather to be.
Well, anyway, she was here. She could have left for good, but she had comeback. Better get on with it. Kirsten took her overnight bag and placed it inthe large box. Then, working carefully and methodically, she began to undress,folding each garment as she removed it and placing it with the bag in the largebox. Shoes, jacket, skirt, brassiere, stockings as well as her watch, necklaceand bracelet all went into the container, until she stood almost naked.
Once all her attire was within the box, she closed the lid, engaging thelocking mechanism. She would have no further need of her clothes or the othercontents for the moment, and no further access to them, for she did not havethe box key. Then, she turned and looked in the mirror again
Without the distraction of clothes, the girl's figure was revealed in allits glory: her full round breasts, narrow waist, smoothly curved thighs andperfectly turned calves. But it was not this that Kirsten considered: ratherher attention was inexorably drawn by the second, and, unlike the money, totallyimperative reason why she had returned. Not that being clothed had ever reallyallowed her to forget it.
The belt was made of shiny metal, about two inches high, lined for comfortwith a black rubbery substance. It fitted snugly around the narrowest partof Kirsten's waist, subtly exaggerating the flare of her hips. The metal wasnot hinged; it was springy enough to get on and off without this, but now ofcourse it was held closed by a lock at the rear, close to the small of herback. The lock also held a metal bar which depended between the cheeks of herbackside, split either side of her back passage to form a hole small enoughto let wastes out (but nothing in!) and gradually expanded to form a platethat completely enclosed Kirsten's sex. Only the tips of her labia could beseen, protruding through a narrow slit that allowed her bodily fluids to pass.Seen, but not touched, for the slit was covered by a tough shield made of wiregauze that totally prevented access. The plate was securely welded to the beltat the front. The assembly was completed by chains descending from the sideof the belt to metal thigh rings, also locked, which were in turn held togetherby a short length of chain, preventing Kirsten from spreading her legs morethan the distance required for a normal walk, and obviously preventing herfrom wearing panties, slacks or short skirts as well
Kirsten placed her hands behind her neck and turned, looking over her shoulderto admire herself in the mirror from every angle. The metal work that encasedher was not unattractive, and neither, she had to admit, was it in any wayuncomfortable, for it had been made to her exact measurements. But it was completelyescape-proof, and totally efficient in its guard of her feminine intimacies.She faced forward again and felt the closeness of the fit of the belt abouther middle. Sliding her fingers downward, she attempted, as she had done manymany times over the last few days, to slip a finger between the metal and herflesh. It was, of course, quite useless. The device was simply not designedto permit her – or anyone else – to do this. Her sex would remaincompletely inaccessible until the belt was removed.
Kirsten turned again, straining to see the lock at her back. She did nottamper with it, for she had been told it contained an explosive charge whichwould kill her if she or anyone else attempted to pre-empt it. But in any casewhat could she do? It was not the sort of lock that required a key: it wasopened by a radio signal. The locks on the thigh rings were just the same.
Once again facing the mirror, the girl stretched her legs apart until thechain linking her thigh rings jerked taught. She smiled to herself. Like theinitial contract, the conditions that had allowed her to leave the Estate forher "exceptional circumstances" had been fully explained. She would be lockedinto the belt, and it would only be removed when she returned. Well, she hadreturned. Soon now.
Kirsten went over to the table and opened the other box, the one with thenote. She opened it and lifted out the first item. It was made of metal justlike her belt, but designed to fit closely around her neck. Like the belt,it had a radio lock fitted neatly into its structure. It had some other electronicsin it too, and on the outside it had welded four metal rings, one at the front,one at the back and one at each side, to which padlocks and chains could beattached. Kirsten considered the collar, turning it over in her hands. It wasquite familiar, for she had worn it constantly during the first months of hercontract. It had only been removed a week ago, just after she was fitted withthe belt. Unlike the belt, the collar was hinged: it was too small to springopen. She opened it wide and eased it around her neck. She found herself wondering,just as she had done the first time, what it would feel like, but as the rubberylining touched her skin a wave of comforting familiarity coursed through her.It felt normal. She shut her eyes, held her breath and closed the ends of thecollar together. The lock engaged with a click, confining Kirsten's neck securelywithin its grasp. Yes, it felt normal. That was how she was used to be, witha metal collar locked around her neck. Normal, and – nice. Instinctively,the girl's hand strayed down to her sex, though it encountered only the coldmetal of the wire gauze. On the other side of this barrier, beads of moisturebegan to creep as the her flesh responded instinctively to the idea of helplessconfinement.
The next item in the box was also familiar to Kirsten, for again, it hadbeen her constant companion until she had left the estate those few days ago.It was a pair of stout leg irons: two anklets, built, and fastening in thesame way as her belt and collar, linked by about fourteen inches of brightmetal chain. The chain was not permanently fixed to the cuffs, but was padlockedat each end, allowing for re-arrangement if necessary. The girl held up thebonds by their chain, admiring their brightness and form. They were not particularlyheavy: they did their job of restraint by means of strength, not weight. Kirstenlooked at the padlocks. They were securely fastened. Like the locks on hercollar and belt, and those on the ankle rings themselves, they worked by radiorather than a conventional key. Kirsten would never herself be able to releasethem. She let the metal links run through her fingers: her flesh shivered inanticipation of the confinement they promised. She knew what it was like tobe locked into this this device, her limbs inexorably linked by the shiningmetal chain. She knew what it felt like to go to sleep in it, to wake up init and to spend her hours and her days in it, until it was not so much somethingworn, but part of her. She knew exactly how the irons influenced her movement,not really affecting her ability to walk , but constantly asserting their presenceas the chain linking the anklets jangled loose and then drew tight with eachstep. And of course, she could not run or climb. She knew how they kept herflesh exposed, their presence entirely destroying any notion of donning pantiesor slacks, which could not be got past the chain. She knew too how utterlyescape-proof they were, how they would remain completely unmoved by any attemptshe would make to free herself, but would continue to hold her flesh in theirobdurate, metallic clasp. And she also knew too how beautiful they were, thehard bright metal the perfect foil to the soft curves of her legs.
Kirsten sighed. The itch behind her belt was growing difficult to ignore.Bending down, she fitted the anklets around her legs and clicked them closed.She was fettered. She walked around the room, looking down at her newly appliedshackles as she did so, releasing herself to the feeling of confinement, thecaress of the metal about her. A single drop of female moisture made its waythrough the gauze wire of her belt, and crept down her thigh.
Above her head, and entirely outwith her thoughts, the security camera insideits little bubble shaped housing zoomed in on Kirsten's ankles, double checkingthe radio indication that the bonds were locked in place.
Kirsten returned to the table, and the box. The handcuffs were much the sameas the fetters: small metal rings, made to the exact shape and size of Kirsten'sslim wrists. Hinges, radio locks, and the pair of them already fastened togetherwith a small radio padlock, giving just an inch or so of play between them.She held them, looking at them, examining them in detail. They felt familiar,but she was not so acquainted with how they looked, for they were worn, ofcourse, at the back, out of sight. She opened one of the cuffs. The rubberylining was worn: but then until last week it had been constantly locked abouther wrist for several months. She looked at the lock, the little clasps thatwould engage so securely as soon as she closed the ring about her arm. Somehowthe bond seemed to grin at her, like it was alive. Hungry for female fleshto imprison, hungry and confident of its victory over its prey.
For a long time, Kirsten stood, holding the cuffs, remembering how it feltto be confined in them. How the metal would clasp her slender wrists with gentlebut implacable mastery, defying even the thought of slipping them off. Howon warm days the rubber lining would become moist with perspiration from herwrists. How she would only be able to move her hands as far as her hip on eachside. How the linkage joining the cuffs was totally resistant to her struggles,and how it was far too short to allow her to slide her hands down past herbackside and so bring them to the front of her body. How she could never clotheherself or in any way cover her nakedness. How she could not feed herself,or brush her hair, or teeth. How little she could do when handcuffed.
And how much she had learned to do when handcuffed. How she had learned tolive handcuffed, to wake, move and sleep in handcuffs, to shower in handcuffs,read and think and talk in handcuffs, even to type in handcuffs. How she hadlearned to be helped by and to help other girls, who were also in handcuffs.Handcuffs that were never removed.
Her chest heaving, Kirsten took the first cuff and fitted it around her leftwrist. The lock shut with its single, final sounding click. The other cuffdangled. She looked down at it, at the same time viewing her nakedness. Sheremembered that once the other wrist ring was locked into place, confiningher small hands behind her, she could never, despite their constant exposure,touch her own breasts. One cuff still dangling, she cupped her breasts withher hands, feeling their weight and softness. How long before she could dothis again? Her nipples, already hard, grew firmer at the thought.
Giving her breasts a valedictory squeeze, Kirsten reached behind her back,fumbled until the open cuff was in position about her right wrist, and squeezedit closed, engaging the lock. A gentle tug confirmed that it was properly inplace: Kirsten was once again handcuffed, as required by the terms of her contract.
Suddenly, a fit of panic seized the girl: my God, what have I done? She thought.She collapsed to her knees, heaving at the cuffs that restrained her arms.She pulled her wrists first to one hip and then the other, as far as her bondspermitted. The padlock that linked the cuffs clinked violently, but remainedof course entirely indifferent to the struggles. Then Kirsten grabbed eachcuff in turn with the opposite hand, trying vainly to slide it down over herwrist. Neither cuff moved. Finally, still kneeling, still helplessly shackled,she tried to relax, concentrating hard on her breathing, searching for themental space in which she could enjoy the secure embrace of her chains. Itwas not long in coming, for it had, she knew, been part of her from her earliestyears. Relaxing, she felt once again the strange comfort of her implacableconfinement.
Silently, above her head, the camera zoomed out. Kirsten's brief strugglehad been a pleasing check that her cuffs were properly applied. A button waspressed, and the radio signal sent. The locks that held Kirsten's belt andthing rings opened, disturbing the girl's thoughts, bringing her to her senses.
Carefully, using her shackled hands, she was able to manouevre each thighring from her leg, and finally to ease the belt from her middle. The apparatuscame away, fully exposing Kirsten's femininity, now moist and fragrant withfrustrated arousal.
Kirsten knelt down on her heels, spreading her thighs as widely as she couldand letting the cool air reach her pussy. She peered downwards, past her breasts,noting how her pubic hair had been squashed flat by the metal prison that hadenclosed it. Again she moved her cuffed hands to her hip, exploring the exactlimits of her bondage. How she longed to touch herself! But now, though herpussy was free, her handcuffs completely prevented her reaching her sex. Shehad tried many times over the months, sometimes managing, by stretching betweenher legs, to get a fingertip to the bottom of her opening, but never enoughto reach her clit or to do anything to reduce her need: only to make it worseby inadequate stimulation. The only way she had found out of such predicamentswas to use a smooth stick, like a broom handle, to reach between her legs,or of course to get help from someone else. Well there were no brooms in thisroom, but now she had returned she could hope for help reasonably soon.
" Greetings, Kirsten, Welcome back." The voice came from a speaker embeddedin her collar. "Are you naked?"
" Yes, Sir, except for my chains." Her collar microphone carried her voiceback to her employer.
" Good. And are all your chains all in place?"
" Yes Sir." She knew that he knew. The dialogue was just a formality.
" And they are comfortable for you?"
" Yes Sir, perfectly comfortable."
" Good. The inner door is open. You may go through, I shall see you in mystudy after lunch."
Alessandra
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