The Contract

The Contract by JG-Leathers ISBN: 978-1-937831-37-0 A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication Copyright © 2012, All rights reserved With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers. For information contact: Pink Flamingo Publications P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083 USA Forward This book is a re-publication of my first stories, originally published in 1994 by House Of Gord (www.HouseOfGord.Com), and Gord has very generously and graciously permitted me to use all of the illustrations originally created by Simon Benson. I have made some small modifications to these drawings to enhance their appearance (in my view) and I think you’ll enjoy them. As well, I’ve added in a couple of my own rather poorly-executed sketches that show how the Lipizzaner helmet is constructed, affixed, and functions. Both of the original stories (The Contract, Books One and Two) have now been combined, completely re-written and thoroughly edited, and as well, a new section of some 40,000 words has been added. I hope you’ll enjoy my tale of the self-enslavement of Susan Henderson. JG-Leathers 6th December, 2011 Prologue The two men sat quietly in the large, airy, circular room at the top of the tower, silently watching the sun set over the golden dunes of the desert stretching away to the blazing horizon. Beneath their feet, the huge, fortress-like Palace hummed with the activity of its thousand occupants as they went about their end-of-the-day duties, while far above the meeting continued. From the distance, the domed buildings and spires seemed to float above the trackless sands, their plain exteriors lending them the look of a high technology, research centre, concealing deep within, the secrets and the lives of its occupants, willing and otherwise. “Ahmed,” the deep voice of the Sheik murmured, “it is time for another selection of females to be obtained for my Hareem. The oil revenues continue to fatten our treasury and I grow bored of the ones currently here.” “Yes, Majesty,” acknowledged the Palace administrator. “We will be returning the next batch of Hareem girls to their decadent Western cultures soon, and will have openings for another 24 within the next two weeks. What part of the world do you wish me to select the females from, Sire?” “I think that ... ah, yes, Canada would do very nicely for the next set, but do not limit yourself to just that country if the resources and quality are not there. You may also procure from the southern United States and its West Coast state of California, if there is still a requirement to fill the quota.” “Aye, Sire,” the retainer acknowledged his instructions. “Do I have your permission to employ the new Transportation Uniforms and shipping cocoons for this next acquisition?” “Patience, Ahmed. Patience,” the Sheik said slowly, stroking his grey-streaked beard reflectively, “I know that you wish to try all the new toys that you have had made by your German manufacturers, but I feel that we should test some of them a little more on the females we already have on hand, before utilising them on those who are completely unfamiliar with my Uniform and Equipment requirements. Perhaps, on the lot after this one, we will employ the isolation and restriction devices right at the beginning. Some of the females that you have tried these new toys out on have suffered quite severely in them, even after short durations. Is that not correct?” “It is true, Sire, but I believe that we have solved the problems in that area and our most recent tests have given very satisfactory results.” “Oh? How so?” “Sire, after the female has been fastened within her Travelling Cocoon, she is, as you know, totally isolated; bound, helpless, speechless, sightless and unable to hear any of what transpires even immediately next to her. Prior to being placed within it, we have, of course, fitted her with a chastity belt and plugs, and have found that though the females hate their Travelling Cocoon and Uniforms with a passion, they are able to endure them quite well. What we have done is to selectively control their hearing; providing what is known as ‘white noise’ through the earphones of their isolation helmets. This, apparently, allows the mind of the occupant of the Travelling Cocoon to fix on something, and thus prevents total sensory deprivation. She will have some very interesting dream experiences while in the Cocoon, but she will not go insane. We have also continued the process of ensuring that they are kept, ah ... for want of a better word ... horny, by means of concentrated s****l stimulation to their genitals and breasts during the time that they are imprisoned within their Cocoons, thus beginning their addiction to s*x and disciplinary procedures in combination. The Uniform and Cocoon are wonderfully efficient at restraining a female and, with the proper attachments, she can be kept in it for up to 14 days at a time.” “Interesting, Ahmed,” the Sheik said with a smile at his subordinate’s enthusiasm, “but I don’t wish them to be used until the next intake after this one coming.” “As you wish, Sire.” Ahmed bowed, realising that he was pushing just a little too hard. “What is the current status of the Hareem?” “Sire, at the moment we have 17 of the 20 modules occupied, giving you a total of 204 wives in residence. Of these, 72 are being kept as Cow Girls and another 12 are in residence as Horse Women. As well, you have a 12 girl Lipizzaner Pony Team and another of Lipizzaner Horse Women. The rest reside in their modules. Of those, 60 are Second Level wives, and the others are Third Level.” “Very good, Ahmed. I shall look forward to receiving the next batch with great anticipation and I wish you to begin setting the process in motion at first light tomorrow.” “I shall begin at dawn, Sire. You may expect the next females within 14 days.” “Fine, fine, Ahmed,” the Sheik mumbled. “I tire of the day, oh trusted retainer, and will now retire to my rooms. Ensure that one of my Third Level wives is brought to me for the night’s entertainment. Chain and gag her in some unusual way. I wish you a good evening. Allah keep your soul from harm this night.” “Good evening, Sire, and may your steps be guided with His divine light,” Ahmed said, bowing his way from the room.