She’d been a prisoner in her secret cell for an unknown period.

Object’s ‘days’ had blended into a boring sameness, for no record keeping of any kind was permitted to her, and, kept isolated within her windowless, silent chamber, there was no indication of the true time of day or night. The cell was her home now; utterly removed from the outer world. Her cloying, thick rubber Uniform, the restraint ensemble, the inescapable chains and the stark, grim chamber were all she’d known for the longest time.

For the moment, she lay quietly on her bed, semi-awake and wondering when He would come to release her for the next work period. As always when she stirred after sleeping, Object felt the slightly loose tethers locked to her Uniform’s restraint rings snap tight. Her arm’s movements were restricted, for her wide steel wrist cuffs were locked to heavy rings at the front of her steel waistband. Nevertheless she tugged her hands in hopeless attempts to gain more freedom, struggling fitfully against the hi-security locks.

Her high, now-welded-closed collar was a constant, reminding annoyance, made more so by its taut chain to the top of the bedframe, holding her flat on her back, but that wasn’t the only tether that attached her to the bed. Others rose from the sides of the heavy steel frame and were connected to her belt, preventing Object from rolling, while yet another ascended from the bed frame’s foot to be locked to the central link of the pitifully short hobble that joined her ankle cuffs. It had a little slack, allowing Object to draw her legs up, but for only a few centimetres before it sprang tight and reminded her of its presence.

From its mounting at the top of the bed frame, her metre and a half long leash looped up to a deeply-embedded ring in the cement wall, doubly ensuring that she could not escape her captivity and controllability. It was, truly, a needless additional securement, but acted to remind her of her status as an Owned Object and how she could not change her fate

All of Object’s bed leashes were hidden beneath a concealing, thick, tightly strapped-down neoprene sheet that also acted to imprison her on the bed. The very steadfastness of her bonds and leashes frequently frightened Object to the point of silent tears, but they were now a brutal fact of her life and had been for the past three years.

For this rest period, she had been allowed to sleep in her strict bed, but sometimes the Owner chained her to the wall, spread-eagled like a pinned butterfly, then left her fastened miserably in place for however long He decided she should be allowed to rest, alone and helplessly restrained in the unlighted cell. Those nights were not pleasant and on each occasion she dreaded the coming hours of loneliness and terrible limitation He had imposed. However, under Strict Regime, she was not permitted to complain about this fastening and only after the barred inner door, then the outer thick one had been closed and locked, could she uselessly protest into her gag and weep.

Her inability to oppose or escape what was done to her had nearly always been a turn-on for Object, yet now she regretted her impetuous desire to become what she had. No freedom or choice was permitted, for she was and had become, albeit at her request, just a thing ... only a possession ... and the Owner took pains to ensure she was always reminded of her status, personally. Her welded-closed restraints, in combination with the tight, oppressive, thick rubber suit that encased her limbs, hands, feet, body and head ensured that Object was constantly reminded of her status. Not only did she wear the welded-closed collar and cuffs, but in addition, over the rubber suit, Object was locked into a very secure and evilly-talented chastity belt and chastity bra, thus ensuring that there was no possibility of self pleasuring allowed, even if her gloved hands had been able to touch herself. He insisted that she be confined in this ‘Uniform’ at all times, other than for her weekly cleaning.

Certainly, she was well-looked after, but sometimes His total control was unbearable. She was permitted few opportunities to speak, for, being an Owned Object and therefore less than human, she was only infrequently allowed to make suggestions about how her bondage and status could be improved upon, but never decreased and even those chances were extremely rare. He acted unilaterally and she only found out about the changes when they occurred. Since the beginning of her most recent period of incarceration on Strict Regime, she’d been permitted no chance at all.

Object lay quietly, surging gently against her chains under the thick neoprene covering sheet, her thickly- gloved hands automatically continuing the fruitless struggle to free themselves when the rest of her Uniform made itself felt yet again. She thought about her new life. The ensemble she had worn for these past three years was designed to both restrain and ensure that she remained totally chaste: offering no opportunity whatsoever for her to touch her genitals or breasts. Only her Owner was permitted that right and he’d seldom permitted her to even see them since they’d been married.

Her upper body was harnessed by a secure, rigid-cupped bra that confined, imprisoned and isolated her breasts. The delightful badges of her femininity, projecting through apertures on the chest of her rubber suit, were slightly constricted by high collars and once the bra was locked on, there wasn’t any way she could escape its pervasive control. As with all of her restraints and the Uniform, only the Owner could release her. Below the bra, clasped around her middle, was a high, tight metal waistband and from its centre at the front, a wide panel descended, deeply pressing into her belly, then narrowed and passed between her legs, up between her buttocks to the back ... her chastity belt. Even though she wore the impenetrable, stainless steel briefs, her sex was even more intimately controlled.

Under the impenetrable crotch panel, her vagina was sealed away by a set of stainless steel shields that had been mounted directly into and through her flesh. The device within her flesh was an oval metal panel with short, outward projecting rods and these were passed through seven grommeted piercings in each of her labia to mate into locking fittings on the outer, perforated shield. Object’s sex was thus kept embarrassingly, constantly and uncomfortably dilated and even the smallest twitch of her abdominal muscles dragged at the plate’s intimate mountings. That wasn’t all though, for a small hemisphere was located at the top of the outer shield and this covered her pierced and U-shackle-adorned clitoris. It had been slipped through a narrow slot on the hemisphere and a firmly-joined Quick-Link ensured that removal or stimulation by it was quite impossible. In addition, she could also be intimately restrained by a tethering chain being locked to the Quick Link, and although it had only happened a couple of times, she hated the sense of helpless, uniquely feminine vulnerability its attachment forced her to experience. Object had discovered that any attempt by her to fight the intimate leash was grossly painful.

That wasn’t all that bothered her though, for she also intensely felt the internal twitches of the other horrid devices she’d been equipped with. The most intrusive was the tong, thick dildo mounted on the inner plate, then her urinary catheter, and finally, the large, hollowed plug in her backside to permit evacuation. The process of being fitted with these punitive implements was always an unpleasant one, but once locked in place and after she’d worn them for a few days, they’d nearly become an accepted part of her life. Object was even denied control over her own bodily functions and being both deafened and blinded for most of her existence during this newest, extremely controlled imprisonment, she found it frightening, and yet, occasionally arousing to be kept so helpless. The hoses that carried away her waste were also an annoying fact of life, but neither could they be escaped. She moaned with frustrated desire, deeply knowing she was securely and unforgivingly held.

The Owner’s care and loving attention, combined with His un-altering and calculated enforcement of the rules of the Strict Regime was reassuring ... for the most part. Object could not object to her treatment, nor could she complain that she was but a ‘thing’ to him, for He was always tender; speaking quietly and soothingly, even if she was gagged, while affixing her incredible restraint ensemble or adjusting her other devices and restraints. Object was required to sit or stand complacently when He required and allow herself to be made utterly helpless, chaste, silent, leashed and many times blinded and deafened. She had seldom been permitted the luxury of speech since consigning herself fully to His full ownership and, although sometimes desperately wanting to speak or somehow communicate her needs and desires to Him, it was seldom permitted. Most of the time, while within her cell, Object was not gagged, but during her ‘days’ she was fitted with some sort of device that silenced her totally and despite the initial discomfort these gags enforced, she gradually grew accustomed to their rubbery bulk filling her mouth for most of her waking hours.

However, even the small sniffles and whines escaping from her dilated nostrils were almost unnoticeable.
Her cell was kept almost totally dark, with only a small, dim light near the floor to relieve its oppressive solitude and this permitted her a chance to make out some details, but the silence she lived in was absolute. Not only was her cell deep under the house, but its exterior had been heavily sound-proofed to prevent outside noises from impinging. More importantly, it also prevented any sounds or cries she might make, if ungagged, from escaping. Over and above all of this though, Object was not even permitted to hear the rattling of her chains when she tugged at them, for she had also been fitted with highly efficient, noise-cancelling earplugs that removed every external sound.

She knew there was a corridor that led to her cell, although she was beginning to have difficulty remembering what was beyond it, and so now waited for the Owner with increasing attentiveness, tugging more fervently at her severely limiting chains. No matter what she attempted in the way of movement though, the slightly loose tethers snubbed her every movement with authority to an almost immediate halt. Her small whines of distress were absorbed into the silence of the cell as though sucked up by a vast sponge.

The normal, overhead yet very dim light of the cell suddenly illuminated and she turned her head from side to side, feeling the snugness of her snug, wide collar. When she unthinkingly attempted to sit up, both the chain from the bottom of the bed and that from her neck immediately snapped tight, making the thick, snug steel band around her throat clamp more firmly and she fell back upon the hard mattress with an exasperated sigh, hands once again jerking unthinkingly against their restraints. Object sensed the door being unlocked, opened and closed again, then a second later, the shadowy bulk of the Owner appeared above and a click sounded in her ears. He spoke slowly and distinctly for she was still nearly deafened by the fastened-in earplugs, but His voice was reassuring and warm while He released the imprisoning rubber sheet that had also kept her a prisoner on her bed. He was seldom formally cold, but when that happened, she was terrorized beyond reason, fearing the discipline that would inevitably follow.

Object and her Owner lived by a different set of rules, even though they were considered by the outer world to be a loving husband and wife, and they were ... sometimes.

“I hope you had a pleasant and restful sleep period, my Dear? However, it is time for your next Work Period and so you must be prepared for it. Please remain silent while you are released from your bed and when I assist you with your ablutions. You know that you are not permitted to speak unless I grant permission. If you speak, there will be severe consequences.”

The litany was familiar, but He repeated it nonetheless, then checked each of the locks that secured her, and a minute later released them. Grasping the chain from the back of her collar, He pulled Object up to a sitting position on the firm, rubber-covered mattress while she swung her still close-hobbled feet over its side. Object sat quietly, waiting for Him to proceed; her thickly-rubber-gloved hands twisting at the front of her steel belly-band, fighting the links that held them fastened to it. He never permitted her to have her arms and hands a full range of freedom and she constantly and desperately craved it. They were now always limited by being locked together or fastened either to her belt or something else that denied freedom of motion. Object couldn’t even twist her arms or legs within the confinement and constriction of their cuffs for they were-oval shaped and exactly-fitted. When she fought against them, there was no escaping their implacable control and always the feeling of their snug, wide imprisonment. Looking down against the restriction of her choker she saw her waste hoses looping over the side to their sealed containers and even in the privacy of the cell, blushed that she should be seen to have them attached to her body.

The routine was always exactly the same and a moment later Object opened her mouth to permit her teeth to be brushed while she sat submissively, remaining silent while the cleaning was done with brisk, clinical efficiency. Next, He tenderly washed and dried her face, then moved to the small table by the door, returning a moment later with a bowl of her ‘fuel’ and a glass of water.

“Here is your morning meal. Chew it well.”

She stared up at Him with something akin to despair, then automatically accepted the proffered, gruel-laden spoon. Her ‘fuel’ had been carefully-created to contain all of the vitamins and trace elements needed to maintain good health, but it wasn’t designed to make her happy with its flavour for it was just that ... fuel. While in Strict Regime it was her only food. Occasionally during her feeding the Owner gave her a drink of warm water to wash the residue of gelatinous paste out of her mouth, then at the end of the meal, another few gulps were administered and her teeth were once again brushed. It was time for the next part of her preparation.

“Please stand.”

Object knew what was coming and hated it, but nevertheless rose with a small shiver of terror, then His hand grasped her shoulder and gently spun her so that she faced the barren cement wall. She felt a rattle of chain and an additional weight came on the back of her collar when He fastened another short length, leaving it to hang down her spine. Her right wrist was freed from the front of her belt, then grasping it firmly, He pulled her arm around behind and slowly rotated it so that her palm faced outward. A second later He began to force it up her back between her shoulder blades, then it was locked securely to the end link of the short chain. This was just the beginning of her daily travail for the back prayer bondage He insisted she endure and was a harsh penance that immediately became extremely uncomfortable. Even after many months of being forced to adopt this awful positioning of her arms, it had become only a trifle easier to bear. A few seconds later her left arm was briefly freed, then it too was slowly but inexorably drawn behind her back and up between her shoulder blades to also be locked to the short chain, making her gasp again with the horrible discomfort and sensation of utter vulnerability that having her arms thus fastened enforced. When bound in this manner, Object felt completely helpless as was the intent, but there was even worse to come. Once her hands and arms had been immobilized, He partially released the short chain from the collar’s back ring, but maintained a firm tension and immediately began pulling hard on it, drawing her pinioned hands and arms higher yet! A gasping moan of pain was torn from her throat when the horrid drag increased and she barely stifled the pleading she was about to make, knowing that a far worse punishment would be enacted if she spoke. With the strong tension He exerted, Object was forced to bend forward, frantic to somehow ease her increasing discomfort, but this action only allowed Him to apply even more force, and her arms rose higher and higher until she could no longer suppress her automatic howl of agony and began weeping with miser. Upon hearing her reactions, He was satisfied and immediately secured the chain with a heavy lock, ensuring that the reduced length to the ring at the back of her collar could not be escaped. He pulled on her leash chain to force her to stand erect and Object twisted slowly before Him in a futile attempt to ease her pain, but her distress and tears were ignored. He left the cell for a moment to retrieve her Head Box.

While He was gone, she shuffled slowly out to the length of her too short leash, writhing her body against the fierce arm bondage, then felt her tether draw taut, halting her far away from the again-locked inner door. The back prayer bondage was the worst physical sensation she’d ever experienced, yet He insisted upon it and so she had no choice but to submit. Bound in this manner, Object was made even more conscious of herself as a female, for the posture forced her to flaunt her encased breasts like a common whore, prancing daintily to maintain her balance when she tried to walk. She was further reminded of the reality of her situation when her short hobble chain snapped demandingly tight between her snug ankle cuffs, with every step her leash permitted. Object turned back to her chain-draped bed, knowing He’d return in a moment, then stood beside it, waiting with part-terror and part-arousal for what was to come. Under the chastity belt’s secure compression, her belly muscles shivered and tugged at the hidden plates sealing her sex and she felt her inner muscles convulse and grip the rigid dildo uselessly, striving desperately to somehow achieve an arousal. Object could not stop the whine of distress that signalled her plaintive longing, and shuddered, twisting her body mindlessly. Her Uniform, though, had been carefully and cruelly- designed and constructed to prevent her from attaining any sort of sexual satisfaction. Nor could she feel any sensation other than its compression, tightness and control. Within the firm cups of her bra, her breasts swelled and her nipples hardened in fruitless demand, but it was useless and so she slowly straightened when she heard the key rattle again in the outer door’s prison-like lock.

A moment later, the barred inner one opened and He entered, then turned His back to her and locked it once more. When He turned to face her again, she saw the Head Box in His hand and knew that her next work session was soon to begin. Once it was fitted, her status as an Owned Object became even more deeply entrenched and inescapable, for she would be encapsulated in a world of utter silence and strictly-controlled vision.

The Head Box had been carefully-designed and created for maximum restrictive capability. It was a snug cube that totally encompassed her head and neck; fully sound-insulated. At the front, a large rubber appliance projected inward at the level of her mouth, custom-created by a dentist friend of her Owner. As soon as she’d opened her mouth as far as possible and the gagging pad had been inserted, she was utterly unable to eject it, and, even if her hands were free, it would still be a difficult thing to manage, so exactly did it conform to the inner contours of her oral cavity. In addition to the almost perfect fit, there were other parts of the mouth filler that would ensure her utter silence. The underside of the pad was formed with a shallow groove, this designed to comfortably accommodate her tongue, and to ensure its immobilization there were, in addition, two soft flanges that slid under it on either side. Then too, there were the ‘dams’ that slipped between her teeth and cheeks, sealing the device into her mouth. Under her chin on the inside was a formed cup that held her jaw firmly and this ensured that she bit down fully, thus making the mouth filler suck itself into place to make a total seal. The box’s thick base plate was, effectively, a strict, very snug posture collar and would be the first thing to be affixed, over her normal steel one. The Head Box’s front panel, in addition to having the gag pad affixed, was fitted with a narrow, sliding panel at the position of her eyes and when closed, she was rendered blind. On its top and sides were gleaming, stainless steel, mounting brackets.

Object stared fearfully at the thing, for by now she was intimately familiar with its horrible confinement, having been forced to wear it for every work period since she had begun this latest period of imprisonment. The only time she was not confined in the claustrophobic imprisonment, for the most part, was when she was here in the cell, but that time had come to an end once more. He placed it on her bed, then changed the fastening of her leash so that it was locked to the central back ring of her chastity belt.

“Hold still!” he commanded. “As you know, this is somewhat of a trial to fit properly.” He continued conversationally while preparing to isolate her head.

Object fruitlessly attempted to quail away from Him, however, there was no avoidance permitted. Her leash ensured she could not escape, and with her hands and arms bound as they were, she couldn’t even think about pushing Him away or resisting what was about to be done to her. She raised her eyes and looked despairingly at Him with some unnameable emotion, but pity or mercy were not on the agenda once the Strict Regime had been instituted. He raised the opened, thick, front portion of the base plate to her neck and she shivered convulsively, then raised her chin when it was slid under until her steel collar seated into its wide, inner groove. A moment later, the back piece had also been fitted and she felt the integral locks join the two pieces into one while the considerable weight settled onto her shoulders. It was time for her oral appliance ... the cruelly-silencing gag pad.

“Open your mouth!”

He raised the front panel to the level of her face, tilted outward, then pushed the flexibly-mounted oral cavity block down slightly. Object licked her lips one last time, then opened her mouth as widely as she could and accepted the cold rubber pad, feeling it press down on her lower front teeth, forcing her upper ones even further apart when it began to be pushed into her mouth. The mounting pins on the bottom of the face panel slipped further into their holes, and while they did, the Owner slowly swung the panel towards the vertical, forcing the carefully-formed gag all the way inside. Her teeth sank into their individual, formed impressions while her tongue slipped easily into its isolating pocket, then the flanges and outer dams automatically positioned themselves with every motion of her jaws. Object nearly retched, so far back did the pad project, but stopped herself and attempted to adjust to the filling presence, knowing she’d eventually become accustomed to it. Feeling all of her orifices but her nostrils now plugged, she shivered with a growing fear, but He ignored her trembling and pressed the front panel down so that its pins seated fully and locked into their fittings, while at the same time, a curved bar pressed gently against her forehead. No matter how many times before she’d had to accept the gag, Object had whined with discomfort while it was secured to her steel and wood encased neck piece. With the front panel fully-mounted, her lower jaw was pressed firmly into its cup, forcing her to bite firmly on the slightly-compressible pad and thus making it seal ever more securely; silencing her without mercy. Now, she could only stare straight ahead at the flat black, front panel of the Head Box, but today there was a terrible addition that He’d decided to employ before fully encasing her head!

“Please hold still.” He soothed her gently. “I am about to affix some other devices to ensure that you concentrate fully on your assigned tasks. These will be quite uncomfortable at first, but will not hurt you unless you fight them.”

Object shuddered with terror, remembering some of the other things He’d introduced her to with virtually the same words. All had been unpleasant to experience the first time and many thereafter, but she’d slowly become used to these impositions as a matter of normality.

“Keep your eyes opened.”

She did as commanded, then to her horror, felt a smooth, gently-curved, lip-like device slipped into the small crevice between her lower right eyelid and eye ball! It was gently drawn down a little ... and fastened! The same thing was done to her left eye, but more and worse soon followed when another smoothly-curved, lip-like device slipped under her upper right eyelid and drew it slightly upward, then it too was fastened! Object moaned and writhed against her bonds in a frenzy of distress while the process was repeated on her left eye. Now, she had to stare straight ahead, unable to close her eyes or even to blink! Small nozzles were positioned at each side of her forced-open eyes and a soothing mist of water bathed them, momentarily blurring her vision.

“There! Now, you must always watch the screen. You are not permitted to close your eyes, nor are you to be allowed a respite from your chores by doing so.”

Object wanted to scream with frustration at the overwhelming control He was subjecting her to, but the gag prohibited any noise and she could only wail miserably in her mind. In its back, a small voice laughed quietly with glee ... and arousal. Wails of distress hissed from her nostrils, but He ignored them and continued the preparations. Under her chastity belt’s cover, Object’s flesh writhed distressingly against its controlling piercings and against the crotch plate itself while above, her breasts and nipples swelled once more with sensitizing blood. She desperately wanted to touch herself to enhance her sensations, but bound as she was there was no chance ... as should be the case with any Owned Object. She automatically tried to blink and felt the terrible restriction applied to her eyelids for it was painful to even attempt it. Another distressed moan surged up her encased throat, but He ignored her desperate moans and began to fit the balance of the horribly confining Head Box.

The remainder of the enclosure was slowly guided down tracks on the sides of the face panel and as it descended, thick, sound deadening pads pressed against the sides of her head, further deafening her. A few seconds later, the mounting/positioning pins on the bottoms of the sides and back piece slipped into their fittings and locked closed, sealing her into a Stygian blackness and total silence. Another wide, curved bar had slipped down over the back of her head, moving it firmly forward into the cushioned front piece on her forehead so that her head was now held completely rigid; her forced-open eyes staring straight ahead at the blank, non-reflective surface of the vision-limiting pane, protected by an inner and outer layer of thick plastic. Object gasped through her nose in some terror from the sensation of total isolation, but was unworried about her air supply, for the box had easily-controlled vents for both her incoming and expelled breaths.

She swayed silently back and forth until He reached out and grasped the top ring on the Head Box, and with His other hand unlocked the wall chain from her chastity belt. Object stood before Him as only a female body with an impenetrable steel box where a head should be. Not a sound could be heard from within it, although He knew she tried to speak, impossible as it now was. She shuddered violently and high between her shoulder blades, her rubber-encased fingers fluttered for a moment like tethered butterflies. He smiled with amusement at her useless struggles, then disconnected her sanitary hoses and locked a leash to the top ring of the Head Box. A moment later the cell’s doors had been unlocked and with a firm tension, He dragged His bent forward possession through it, then along the corridor to the Work Room. Their progress down the long corridor was slow, for her ankle cuffs were joined to each other by only a ten cm long chain that snapped tight with every small pace she took, tugging with cruel authority on her snug, welded-closed ankle cuffs. She shuffled along obediently at the end of her thrumming leash, incapable of resistance and all the while forcefully reminded yet again of her status as an Owned Object ... not a human female to be coddled and entertained. Occasionally, she had attempted to balk at being taken to her work, but blinded, deafened and bound as she was, Object hadn’t a chance or a choice to avoid what was to come, and each time her reluctance was quickly and firmly though not brutally punished. The Work Room was a place she had never been permitted to see, for Object had always been brought to it confined as she now was. Inside, her Work Station awaited.

The stark chamber was a barren, concrete-walled, floored and ceilinged room, its walls hung with lengths of chain dangling from deeply set rings, with only one object interrupting the bleakness. This was a large, high, black-painted, steel, box-like device. At the moment, it was opened and an ominous, strap-hung chair sat on a set of short rails, waiting for Object to be placed in it.

Once they’d entered, the Owner pulled her close to the heavily-built chair and made her stand beside it, then locked two widely separated chains hanging from the concrete ceiling to the top ring of her Head Box in a descending V, ensuring that she could not move away. Certainly she could turn from side to side, or spin, but the arrangement held her so that she could not sit nor could she escape what was to come next. The leash she’d been led in by remained attached to the head box and she was momentarily left to stand while He turned and locked the door, then came back and released her hands and arms from their punishing back prayer. Another set of sanitary hoses were drawn from under the chair and quickly connected them to the fittings on her chastity belt’s crotch plate and while He was doing this, Object stood quietly, slowly moving her arms to the lengths of their too short chains in an attempt to restore circulation and ease her strained muscles. She was permitted only the shortest time of freedom before He grasped her Head Box leash once more, released the overhead chains, and slowly pulled her around to sit on the chair’s seat. While being guided down, she settled slowly, carefully positioning the uncomfortable strap between her legs on the chair’s split seat. As soon as she was fully on the padded saddle, a wide strap was passed over each of her thighs, then jerked tight and locked. From the sides of the chair, at the join of the seat and its back, short chains were brought up and locked to the side rings of her belt, pulling her firmly onto it, then another set was brought forward from slightly higher and they too were locked to the same rings on her belt. Next, wide straps from each side were connected to rings on the chest band of her steel bra and they too were drawn tight, holding her securely in the chair. Another set of wide straps was quickly connected to rings just above her breast cups and immediately tightened, anchoring her in place.

Inside the Head Box, Object whined into her gag, staring straight ahead and unable to close her eyes, but not a sound emerged and she couldn’t even hear her own small, futile noises! The Owner reached up and pressed the case backward, guiding the positioning lugs into their fittings until they snapped closed. Her head was now held immovably in place, facing forward and it was only then that He disconnected the leash. Object’s still-chained hands moved tentatively upward, but He quickly pressed her left one down onto the chair’s arm and passed a wide strap over the steel wrist cuff, drew it tight and locked it. Another strap was immediately passed around her biceps, fastened, then also locked. Object began to panic and wildly flailed her still-free right arm to the length of its restricting chain tether, in a futile attempt to prolong her small freedom, but He grasped the straining length of links that joined her wrist to her belt and a moment later that arm too was similarly immobilized. Now, only her tightly gloved left hands fingers were free to move over the small key pad under them (even though she was instinctually right-handed) and the track ball under her right hand’s fingers could be manipulated. Snugly-fitted, padded covers were flipped down over her hands and locked, hiding and confining them securely to above her wrist cuffs, then He knelt before His seated and restrained prisoner and immediately passed wide straps around her calves and ankles. As a fin al securement, He fastened her short hobble chain to a heavy ring on the chair’s base, ensuring that her feet rested on their rocker controls.

She was ready for the final enclosure.

He released the floor locks on the chair’s base, then at the wall control panel, pressed a button that activated the motor driving a worm gear mechanism. With mechanical exactitude, the chair moved slowly forward along the short tracks and slid into the sound-insulated, steel cabinet. Object sensed the smooth motion, but had no idea what it meant, knowing only that it would stop soon. Inside, at floor level, the locks on the chair’s base snapped with authority into their fittings, closing with solid clicks and holding it in place, while above, an interior, square tube that projected forward, slipped over and around the front of Object’s Head Box and locked onto it also. A small fan outside the box immediately came on and forced fresh air into the outer encasement and Head Box, ensuring that she had a continual supply, but could hear nothing at all of the air’s movement.

When the chair had locked into place, at the same time the rear panel also locked into the external structure of her Work Station and He stood back to inspect His entombed property. All that could now be seen in the room was the smooth-sided, solidly-built, gleaming steel case sitting in the middle of the bare concrete floor. It was two metres from front to back, a metre wide and a metre and a half in height; revealing absolutely nothing of its contents ... a thoroughly bound and totally-isolated woman.

It was time for Object to begin her required daily labour.

He turned on the computer and monitors; one inside the case and the external one, then waited until everything was fully operational, showing Object’s projects for the day. He always ensured she had far more to do than could possibly be completed in the ten hours she was kept in her Work Station and that the assorted projects would be fed to her without pause. It was time for her to begin.

He pressed a button on the Control Panel and inside the Work Station the sliding panel from in front of her eyes slid open. Inside, Object had to stare in gagged silence at the glowing monitor, unable to turn her head away, or now ... even to close her eyes and escape, however briefly, from the tasks she was required to complete. It was a huge, detailed list and she surged against her bonds, moving her rubberized fingers shakily over the key pad and trackball, flexing her feet on the floor treadles to familiarize herself with everything once again. On the screen, the cursor responded to her finger’s commands and she began her work, totally isolated from the room outside and the entire, unaware world beyond.

He watched her begin, then moved to the door and stepped through it, locking the barred inner one, then, a few seconds later, the heavy, sound-insulated, steel slab door, behind him. He had no worries that His wife and possession would be discovered for the Work Room and her cell did not appear on the building’s plans and the entrance to her accommodations was fully-concealed. The sound-proofing of the area she now spent so much of her life in was without parallel, and the fact that she was so securely bound within the sound-proofed case, incredibly gagged and totally deafened, made absolutely sure of her isolation and imprisonment. Object might attempt to scream, weep, or beg for release, but no one would hear her. Not even Him. Of course He had doubled-up safety systems installed in the case, the Work Room and the rest of the secret apartment that would instantly notify him if she got into any severe mental or physical distress. Her hear rate and core temperature were constantly checked and sensors within the head box monitored her brain activity to ensure she didn’t descend into a state of total panic, but He knew that a low-level fear always pulsed at the back of her mind, despite being safe. No matter how she struggled, begged or pleaded, she would remain a prisoner in the chair, the locked case, and her cell.

He loved Object for her initial willing compliance and happy agreement to being His possession, something she’d hungered for over many years, and now, His dreams were also coming true. However, Object’s strict control and imprisonment for this particular period was to be a severe test ... one He intended to maintain, yet with tenderness and unforgiving firmness ... for its entire duration.

As an Owned Object, she was required to accept any and all bondage He imposed, as well as to supply whatever sexual services He desired and even when those occasions came, He insisted that she wear the Head Box and that she was chained down and unable to touch herself. Only then was she freed of her chastity-enforcing garments and these special occasions were the only time. From there, He had His way with her beautiful, entrammelled body for hours on end and when she was finally permitted to climax, He was able only to hear her faint, thoroughly-gagged screams of release while she thrashed madly against her restraints. She was, truly, only an Object during these times ... a faceless, chained female body and receptacle for His passion; one that could not object or complain about what she was forced to experience. Nor could she, at any future time, make her complaints known. Confined in the Head Box, gagged, blind and deafened, Object was required to think of herself even more as an Owned Object ... there was no other option available. She was but a sexual ‘thing’ that had no choice in how it was used. At all other times, and as an integral part of her life after becoming married to Him, Object was not permitted to experience any sexual climax or sensations unless she was thoroughly bound and even then, those blessed occasions were permitted only under His strict conditions.

He reflected that she was now two weeks into the twelve or sixteen she would serve in the Strict Regime, but Object had no idea of the planned duration of her imprisonment. Matters had been arranged so that it had just happened one day, and so far she’d managed to accept her incarceration, but there were things that might yet be done to make her future (and perhaps longer) terms of this type of situation even more interesting.

Continued in PART - II