Inspired by the art of Bishop

Her new duties and the “uniform” that went with them, had turned out to be far more onerous and demanding than the advertisement had led her to believe and even though the pay was incredibly generous, she was beginning to wonder whether she had made the right decision.

The trouble was that she had been greedy and really wanted the money and that avarice had given her very little choice but to accept the “special requirements” set down in the iron-clad contract she had reluctantly signed; including the one specifying that if she failed to complete one whole year, all monies earned up to that point would have to be returned in full, with interest and a fifty percent penalty for breaching the terms. She had known when she signed that it would be impossible for her to meet those terms if she broke the contract, but had been quite certain she could handle the unusual conditions it contained and after all, it was only a year ...

Worryingly though, after only three weeks, she was beginning to realise just how long a year could be and her self-assurance and over-confidence was already under severe strain with the weeks and months stretching ahead of her like an eternity. It wasn’t that her employer was particularly unreasonable or demanding ... in fact he was unfailingly charming and pleasant, but he did insist that she carry out the terms of their contract to the letter. Politely, but very firmly, he’d declined to discuss or consider any of the changes she would have liked to have made and given her forty-eight hours to decide if she was prepared to take on the job. Even though she had been shocked and worried by the “special requirements”, the money was too much to resist and she had finally convinced herself to accept them all, despite the embarrassment they would cause her.

At age twenty-four, she was old enough to know how attractive she was, poised enough to be proud of her slim body and experienced enough to be unconcerned at the idea of having to expose her breasts in order to get the job. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d used her feminine charms to get what she wanted and if her extremely wealthy, thirty-five-year-old employer was as susceptible as most men, there was always the possibility of upgrading her job to that of millionaire’s wife.

Wearing only the pair of tight-fitting leather panties and the matching garter-belt provided, she rolled the rubber stockings up her legs and clipped them in place, then watched anxiously while her new footwear was brought over. The knee-high leather boots with their towering, seven-inch heels had been made specifically for her and even though the fit was perfect, she was immediately conscious of the aching of her calf and thigh muscles when she was forced to keep her legs straight and balance on the tips of her toes and spike heels. She could only hope that she would get used to the discomfort quickly, because, as wide steel cuffs were locked over the boots, linking her ankles with an eighteen-inch steel bar, she knew she wasn’t going to be removing the foot wear any time soon.

The contract had also specified that she must wear a collar, but she hadn’t expected that it would be one of cold, hard steel and when it encircled her throat and its lock had snapped shut, she gasped at its weight and the snug, uncompromising grip around her soft flesh. The glove came next and when she reluctantly held her arms out before her with palms pressed together, her eyes widened when her limbs disappeared under a sheath of gleaming leather and the heavy straps that welded her arms together from finger-tips to above her elbows, being connected to a ring on the front of her collar!

She tried to think of a way to back out of the deal, but before she could come up with anything, a long, thick rod was placed deep in her mouth and a wide strap from its ends was buckled firmly behind her neck. Silenced and helplessly bound, she stared anxiously at her employer when he nodded in satisfaction, then spoke.

“Yes. Very nice, my dear! Well, I think it’s time for you to start work!”

She watched mutely while he fetched his dog; a large, young, powerfully-built animal, and clipped its leash to the ring at the end of her gloved arms.

“Off you go, my dear!” he said cheerfully, opening the door to the huge grounds of his country mansion. “Prince needs a lot of exercise; a least two long walks every day, so take him as far as the main entrance, would you? Have fun!”

The moment the door opened, Prince bounded forward enthusiastically and as his muscular frame pulled irresistibly on the leash, she was dragged forward, tottering and stumbling on her enormous heels, her steps restricted by the awkward bar between her ankles. Unable to bend her arms or use her voice to bring him to heel, she was no match for his exuberant charge and as she was jerked away from the house and out into the sunlit parkland, her face reddened in humiliation when she realised that far from her exercising the dog, Prince was exercising her ... and there was nothing she could do about it!

Wherever Prince wanted to go, he would, and she had no choice but to follow, whether she wished to or not. Half-naked, gagged and helplessly bound, it dawned on her that to all intents and purposes, she had become the leashed, collared “pet” and that Prince was controlling her, rather than the other way around. She began to realise that her employer intended it to be that way. While she remained collared and hopelessly restrained, she was as much of a “pet” as the dog was and when her belly began to swirl with unstoppable heat at the thought of how easily her employer could take advantage of her helplessness, she shivered in thrilling arousal, shamefully aware that the prospect was nowhere near as alarming and unthinkable as it might have been, or even, perhaps, should have been. He wasn’t that much older than her and was quite good-looking and fit ... and he was a millionaire. Unfortunately, in the entire three weeks to date he hadn’t touched her, except to untie her arms so she could eat, bathe and sleep and couldn’t help but wonder why; becoming ever more frustrated.

At last she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer and simply blurted out the question she had been longing to ask. He shook his head.

“Your contract is to be my dog-walker.” he informed her. “Nothing more.”

“Well ... yes, I know,” she licked her lips nervously, “but ... what if I want more?”

“Ah,” he replied, “I see. That being the case then we would need a new contract, wouldn’t we? Somethingconsiderably more ... significant ... and permanent.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled and reached into his pocket.

“This is the key to the collar you wear.” he said, holding it up for her to see. “The only key. I could give it to you and you could remove your collar and renegotiate,” he paused and chuckled, “or you could throw it into the fire and destroy it.”

She gazed at the key, then turned her wide eyes to his calm face.

“But ... if I do that, then ... then I wouldn’t be able to take the collar off! Ever!”

“Mmmm. That’s correct.” He grinned, and tossed the key towards her.

She caught it instinctively and took a deep breath.

“What if ... what if I destroy it?”

“Then your collar stays on, of course and you stay here with me. Dog-walking becomes just one of the many requirements I shall demand of you.” He let his eyes sweep over her bare breasts and down to the joint of her shapely thighs, then lifted his gaze to her face. “By no means the most interesting and enjoyable part of your duties, I might add.”

His inspection of her body, coupled with his words left her in no doubt of his intentions towards her and as a fierce, hot wave of arousal swept through her belly, she knew that she held the key to her future, quite literally, in her hands. If she stayed, it would be as his collared sex-slave with no way to alter her situation once the key was gone. The choice was hers and all she had to do was make it.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the magnesium key spinning through the air and as a brief burst of scarlet sparks flew up to mark its final resting place in the red-hot ashes of the fire, she held out her arms, palms together and murmured softly.

“Perhaps I’d better stay then. After all, Prince needs his exercise, doesn’t he ... Master?”

- HOME -