Samantha didn't know what to do with herself. Now that she had just gotten a handle on her new job, working as a maid for the new owners of the manor house on the hill (the old owners had never found out about her time in the manor many years earlier, thankfully. She blushed all over at the memory), the owners were off to the south of France for a vacation. She had very firm instructions as to how to maintain the home up to the Mistress's exacting specifications- the wooden spoon the Mistress carried as she explained the workings of the house left no doubt as to the consequences of an error. Master and Mistress were very devout believers in the proper application of corporeal punishment... Samantha rubbed the purple marks on her pert, round ass, a reminder of what had happened when she had gotten confused using the newfangled washer-dryer machine and stained one of Master's shirts.
"We'll be back in six days," Mistress had said, placing tortoiseshell combs into her long ebony hair, building it into a tall coif. Her cigarette holder was held elegantly in a gloved hand- Samantha had learned to watch it carefully, because the closer it was to vertical, the angrier she was. "And Samantha- no hanky-panky. If I hear even a whisper that you've let anyone into my home..."
"Our home," Master said, watching Leroy the houseboy carry out the luggage.
"Our home, you will lose your job and I will take a personal hand in your punishment."
Leroy winced sympathetically. Mistress had put out a cigarette on his arm once, and he knew she was even crueler to the female employees. Of course, she had done it while she held his head between her steely-strong thighs, so it might have been an accident- although he doubted it. (Mistress didn't approve of people slacking off... anywhere, under any conditions.)
"Mistress, I assure you. I will take ex- exemplary care of the house while you're gone. Nothing will go wrong." By now, Samantha was just terrified that Mistress would decide she needed reminding of what punishment was and spank her before they left- she'd been known to act capriciously that way.
Finally, however, Master and Mistress were compelled by the train schedule to leave. Taking Leroy and most of the other servants with them, they left Samantha entirely alone in the great big house- only the night watchman would be there, and he only in the evenings. The rest of the time, the house was beautiful and empty, and Samantha did what she always did when left alone- pleasured herself. Today, she tried on some of Mistress's fancy underwear (she'd made a habit of it, and found that nothing in the world could compare to the feeling of silk against her most delicate places) and, laying back on the Mistress's bed, began to fantasize.
Samantha's sexuality had always been forthright, but lately, she noticed, her fantasies had become downright filthy. Interestingly her favorite fantasy had emerged right here, in this very house, years ago before the new Master and Mistress moved in- but that was quite literally a different story.
Samantha gently parted her legs and ran a hand up her creamy thighs, delighting in the thrill that her body gave her, the subtle tensing and tightening of her flesh, preparing her for pleasure.
Just as her first fingertip reached below her workaday skirt and towards the panties she'd filched from Mistress's dresser, a horrifyingly loud knock came at the door.
Samantha, thinking for a moment that Master and Mistress had forgotten something and returned home, nearly died with fear. Then she remembered that they would never knock at their own home... She went downstairs to see what it could be about.
She peeked through the peephole. There was a man outside- his car was parked by the side of the house, and there was a large box next to him.
The man was tall and slender, his elegant frame draped in a slightly ill-fitting suit. His eyes were blue, and looking directly at her.
She gasped and jumped away from the door. How had he known she was there?
He knocked again, this time, with a distinct air of impatience.
She opened the door. "I- I'm sorry but the Master and Mistress are away right now and I don't think I'm allowed-"
"Nonsense!" His voice cut through hers like a propeller blade through a seal. "Now's the perfect time for you-" He somehow forced the door open, despite Samantha's best efforts- "to get a private demonstration of the finest luxury educational system the world has ever seen. Believe me, Madam, when master and mistress get back they will be so proud of you for ordering one of these devices that they may very well promote you to chief maid. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"I- I don't think there's any such thing as a chief maid-"
"Irrelevant! You're getting caught up in details, my dear Samantha, you're going to miss the chance of your lifetime over a job title. Not good business, not good business sense at all. Help me with this."
She, still in shock, did. And how did he know her name?
The box was heavy and bulky, but they still managed to bring it into the main dining room. Once there, the man struck a pose and hit a single button on the outside. The box suddenly and catastrophically began expanding, clicking, whirring, parts shifting and turning inside out until where there had been a single simple box there was now a chair with a complicated apparatus under the seat, a desk with several buttons, and a screen with a projector.
It was all very scientific. Samantha didn't know what to make of it. But the man did. Speaking reverently, he said, "Miss Samantha. Say hello to the Educational Chair."
"What does it do?"
He smiled at her and for a second she saw a flicker of something in his eyes- something very, very frightening. "Why, it educates, Miss Samantha. Please try to keep up. Now sit down."
She did. The seat was quite uncomfortable- it was like a bicycle seat, but with a large hole in the middle, and no coverage whatsoever for her butt. However, as soon as she sat down, the machine itself reacted- sudden metal shields extruded from the base and locked around her shins and thighs, while another set extruded to hold her arms up at the desk.
Samantha shrieked. "What is this?! You pervert, I'm calling the-"
"Nonsense! You're not calling anyone. Restraint is a virtue, my girl, and these restraints are very virtuous indeed. Since we added them to the design the efficiency of the chair has gone up 140% not including the other... improvements. Kindly be scientific about this."
Samantha struggled a little. They were astonishingly tight and strong, and her weight, balanced between the very strange seat and the metal restraints, was comfortably distributed.
Then, with a sudden wrenching noise, her legs slid apart. She gasped- in her tight skirt, her whole private region was now on display- including her damp, pilfered panties.
"Mister! I insist that you-"
