Katrina's Taming

KATRINA'S TAMING (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 10 – An Interlude at Katrina's Home

Seven weeks later, I sat in front of the dressing table in the bedroom of my London apartment, a lovely bare thigh exposed as I sat with one leg folded over the other: a lovely bare thigh displayed because of the falling aside of my red silk dressing gown under which I was completely naked.

I looked at my neck to confirm that the bruises caused by my bondage had indeed fully disappeared. I ran the pretty fingers of my right hand over my cheeks and felt the creamy softness of my complexion. Then I ran the pretty fingers of my right hand over my bare right thigh, and did not feel what was usually the same dreamy softness. I needed my supremely shapely legs depilating.

I looked again at the nails on the end of my pretty fingers. These at least I was very proud of. Despite everything I had gone through I had stuck to my desire to grow my fingernails as I had always longed to grow them since my early teens. I had so far managed to get them to a femininely impractical three-quarter-inch beyond my finger and thumb tips.

Always a bit of a tomboy as a child and early teen, I had never taken care of my hands, yet they had survived and nobody, but nobody would call the grownup me a tomboy: absolutely not, absolutely assuredly not. I had always wanted long nails. They prevent a girl using a pen on computer keyboard with ease, but they entice and excite and, in my case at least, excite the owner of them as much or even more than her admirers.

I loved my long fingernails for the helpless femininity of them. The way they forced me to move my fingers or use my hands compellingly femininely. The care with which I must pick objects up and handle them. The way, in which they enhanced the beauty of my hands with their long slim fingers, fingers I could bend back entirely naturally almost like, if not as far as, an oriental dancer. The sexy completely feminine way I had to hold even a drinking straw to my lips so very lightly and gently between long-nailed index finger and long-nailed thumb with my other lovely fingers, especially the little finger, lifted and crooked away in the very essence of girlness.

Once I had grown up, I had become an irrevocably feminine girl. My experiences during my taming had only made me more feminine still. I wanted to be devastatingly girl even down to the ends of my long fingernails. I wanted to be one-hundred-percent absolutely undiluted girl.

That would be my answer. I had decided on my answer even as I had run my right palm over my bare thigh: this was war.

Mi Li had captivated and captured my Jackie, but she had me to reckon with. I was not going to yield to that little doll. I would book a beauty session. A long sauna, massage, leg waxing, manicure and pedicure were the minimum this girl wanted. She was going to war. She was going to re-arm and to fettle her sexy weaponry as a preliminary to battle in which the victor could be in no doubt.

That was my plan to win Jackie to me.

My plan went wrong even before it got off the ground, but in a wonderful way.

I was travelling back by train from a weeklong session at a health beauty and fitness farm. I was feeling wonderful. I was once more a high princess among girls. I was once more a plus perfect representative of the unsurpassable, the most beautiful thing in this and any other world: girls.

My mobile phone rang, and I scrabbled to find it in my handbag just as the train's conductor reached me. He tapped his foot impatiently and world wearily, as I had to divert my attention to find my train ticket leaving my phone to ring and ring.

Like all girls must, I had put my train ticket in the most secret recess of my money-purse and my money-purse somewhere safely hidden deep down at the bottom of my handbag.

But now the conductor smiled as he caught a glimpse of my lovely brown sparklingly bright eyes. My beauty had made his day; his week; even his year.

His foot tapping stopped as he delighted in the chance to savour the pleasure of my scented hair and my girlness as I girlily apologised for my having hidden my ticket to keep it safe.

Suddenly I found the ticket; but my phone had by then stopped ringing.

The conductor gone, but turning his head to catch another glimpse of me, I scrabbled in my bag once more to find my mobile and interrogate its memory for missed calls.

There were several calls from the previous day. Even when first turning it on that day, I had not thought to look at my phone till now, after it had rung to further remind me of its existence. There were several missed calls, but only one from Jackie's number.

I fumbled excitedly to get to hear on voicemail what my love had to say to me. I was immediately disappointed. The message was from Jackie's number, but it was Mi Li's voice not Jackie's.

"Hi Katterinna" Mi Li never could quite pronounce my name. With her naturally husky voice, the way she said it though was, I confess, very, very sexy…..

"Hi Katterinna. It Mi Li. You ring please me at Jackie when home."

Then realising she had not quite got this clear, Mi Li wonderfully sexily giggled: "Sorreee! I mean you home not Jackie home!!! Bye-bye!!"

Anyone who caught my face at this point would have wondered why I was blushing. Anyone who caught my face at this point would have wondered why I was replaying this very brief message and furtively glancing side-to-side. Anyone who caught my face at this point would have wondered if my slit's lips were becoming moist at the sound of Mi Li's deeply divinely sexy voice.

I was in confusion.

I was in love with Jackie, but Mi Li's sexy husky voice and her incredible girly giggle had just turned me on.

I was girl: a girl is always right and does not have to have a reason.

I still loved Jackie. Jackie was love. Mi Li was just …….well……..sex. Jackie was lovely. Mi Li was just very, very, very sexy.

Jackie was a beautiful woman. Mi Li? Why, Mi Li was just an exquisitely pretty little Korean girl, with dark brown hair down to her buttocks, a lovely kissable mouth with upturned middle to her fulsome and bold upper lip, stunning brown eyes, the arms of a delicate porcelain doll, a devastatingly lovely smile, the shapeliest bottom, the firmest of pert little breasts, the slimmest of waists, the loveliest of legs, the daintiest of feet, the most adorably soft skin, and oh that, that, that beautifully exciting…… that……. that…….. "thing" between her gorgeous thighs.

I was purely a girl-girl……… but Mi Li! Oh, but Mi Li!!

I was a girl-girl, but the very thought of Mi Li was causing me to publicly dampen my micro-panties beneath my mini-skirt, as the train I was travelling on with my crimson blushing face and my juicy cunt, suddenly rape-penetrated the Freudian significance of a tight dark tunnel.

………After I got home, as soon as I could, and before I rang Jackie's number, I took a shower to wash myself of the soiled and grubby feeling travelling on public transport always left me with, and to take the chance to change my girl-juiced panties.

I was girl: a girl is always right and does not have to have a reason, so, I cannot explain why after that I was phoning the number of my beloved, my life's love, my Jackie, and yet hoping against hope, with my poor heart pounding and my pulse racing, that it would be the sexy little Mi Li that answered.

It was indeed Mi Li who picked up the phone.

I stammered to say hello, and at her gorgeously sexy giggling brightly intoned innocently answering, "Hi Katterinna", I promptly abundantly oozed nectar into the gusset of my fresh panties and blushed like a rose.

I stammered and stuttered like a schoolgirl. I was in a whirl of confusion. Why was this girl turning me on so? Mi Li chattered away as if we were and had been forever the best of friends. I knew that she had once wanted me. Had she not kissed me passionately on our last photo session together for "SapphFire"?

The conversation between we two girls went on for fully an hour or more. I crossed and re-crossed my gorgeous legs as I listened to the musical sound of Mi Li's husky intonation and her attractive broken English.

An hour on the telephone is nothing for we girls. But, even after an hour on the phone together, as is the lovely way with girls, Mi Li had not even yet told me what it was she had wanted to talk to me about. She was about to put her end of the phone down, saying she was glad that she had called me, when I reminded her that it was I who had called her in answer to her voicemail message.

Mi Li then gave the sexiest girlishmost giggle yet, as she cried, "Oh yes!! I so silleee!!

The gist of Mi Li's message was that my manageress had phoned from Russia and I was wanted out there for a photo session for "SapphFire". Mi Li would accompany me and take the pictures.

In fact, if only my head had not been swimming with a sexual high at listening to Mi Li's voice rather than to what Mi Li was saying, I would have taken in that the session was to be an erotic fantasy. It was to be a story photo shoot with me as the model. The fantasy would be in the stills of me, taken by Mi Li, on my preparation at home, and the flight out there, etc.

It would not be a spread about a real me doing the modelling for which I was now highly sought after and even more highly paid, it would be a spread about a fantasy.

The fantasy was that I was Katrina, a Russian princess and heiress to the Russian thrown. The photo spread would show the beautiful princess preparing and then travelling from exile in England. She had to travel, this imaginary princess had to travel, back to her village of birth in Russia where she was assured of organised support for a popular uprising that would see her put in her rightful place as the crowned Tsarina of all the Russian peoples.

It was to be the first such photo spread "SapphFire" had done. I was to have the honour of being their first "SapphFantasy", in a deliberately and daringly erotic new section of the magazine.

"SapphFire", whose advertising declared it as being published: "for girls who love loving girls", was celebrating having just overtaken the sales of the former market leader, "Pink Girl", which it now made look very dull and fusty. And "SapphFire" having stolen me away from "Pink Girl" wanted to make the most of its catch, and at least maintain or, better still, boost its sales, by a risky revolution in its contents.

Mi Li said that somewhere along the way it might involve real fur coats and hats and boots and did I mind. I did mind. Mi Li assured me that the furs were from farmed animals. I still minded, but I knew I could not really object: I was, after all, a professional model who must take such work as she could find to finance her debts. With my debts, I could not afford to turn any job down.

There was a week till the appointed day and I found my heart a flutter at the thought of Mi Li coming to see me and bringing the clothes I was to wear for the start of the shoot in the England of my storybook exile.

You can call me an unfaithful bitch if you like. I suppose I was. But suddenly, even without my acknowledging it I was all Mi Li and goodness knows what had happened to Jackie's former paramount place in my heart and mind.

I was girl: a girl is always right and does not have to have a reason.

If you had asked me who the love of my life was right there and then, I would still have answered unhesitatingly and with certainty in an unwavering voice that it was Jackie. But, as so often with a girl, my heart and my mind were saying one thing, whilst my cunt was dictating something else entirely.

It was my cunt that threatened to soak my knickers as I sat talking face-to-face with Mi Li. She had come to my home to take me to Russia with her. With Mi Li were Mina and Nina, but as we sat chattering about all things girly, we were friends and girls together, with the past of what Mina and Nina had done to me pushed into the background for the moment, save to the extent that it made me feel even sexier to think of their mistressy over me.

It was also wonderful for me to be the centre of attention. I was not just a girl among girls, but the girl among the girls.

As I now learned, though Mi Li had told me already, in the telephone call I had not really listened to for love of hearing her sexy voice, I was to participate in an erotic fantasy.

Mina and Nina sat me, robed as I was only in my dressing gown, in front of a mirror in my lounge whilst Mi Li said that she would put out my clothes for the journey, on my bed.

The girls wanted my hair in two plaits and busied themselves, with Mi Li joining us at the last and smiling at me in the mirror.

My hair finished, they tied a brilliantly bright royal blue ribbon at the end of each of my plaits.

Ever the practical girl, and now the professional model, I then immediately got up and dropped my dressing gown to give them a flash of my wonderful bum as I went into my bedroom to find my clothes for the journey.

And there they were on the bed. But where were they? And what were these? And where was the rest of my outfit?

For, on the bed, once my eyes had focused from looking wider afield for underwear and dress or skirt and top of some kind, I could see only a pair of beautiful wine-red coloured sheer nylon self-supporting stockings.

I picked them up and turned around as the girls joined me in the bedroom and Mi Li's camera flashed to photograph me totally naked, holding the stockings at the end of a pretty index finger with a querulous laugh on my gorgeous features as my right hand had its thumb touching my pretty nose, with my long fingernailed fingers spread wide and bending backwards magically erotically. This happenchance picture would be a feature photograph in SapphFire, and won prizes for Mi Li in time to come.

The divinely sexy doll Mi Li giggled as she snapped photo after photo of me, picturing me time and time again, in the stages of rolling those wine red stockings up and up and ever up onto my superb legs, where the tops of these stockings left four inches of dreamy creamy soft bare thigh.

Why this choice of colour? Was a comparison being made between the incredible beauty of my legs and the finest of fine wine?

"Shoes" said Mi Li, still snapping away with her camera, and the two girls produced shoes for the journey.

Perhaps I had too readily imagined from the casual friendly girl-to-girl endless hours of chatter I had just indulged with Mi Li, Nina, and Mina, that I was now their equal in our relationship. Then again, perhaps the shoes they produced for me to wear were not indicative of my ultimate subservience after all, but merely part of the fantasy photo sequence I was modelling.

What they produced was a shoe version of the stilt-booties I had worn after my first capture and during the horrendous walk to my taming torture at Jackie's country home.

As with the punishment booties, there were no heels on these shoes. They had the same stainless steel pirouette ballet-shoe foot-shaping soles but, in this case no "front heel" for the poor wearer to rest herself standing. Instead, the tiptoe-ends were mounted upon one-inch round flat metal circular discs in the horizontal plain that would be all I would be able to stand upon.

These shoes had their foot-containing bellows in crimson red leather, being strapped around my feet, and their ankle straps tied around my ankles, and I rose in them, I stood completely upright in them, I stood on the very tips of my big toes within them, on the one-inch round flat metal circular discs in the horizontal plain that the toe-end tips of these balletic shoes turned into.

Once more the stupendous beauty of my legs and thighs was being displayed by my being skyscraper-legged in constant tiptoed pirouette. As I stood and as I would have to walk, I had but the one-inch circular discs to give my gorgeous body its essential contact with the ground.

I was once more steepled for the erotically compelling additional shapeliness it gave my already naturally wonderfully shapely legs, and to imprison me in instability and helpless femininity, as I was made by the steepling of my legs into a live warm vibrant doll girl, whose every step would now be super-girlised, tentative, fearful, painful with time stood always tiptoed, and unsurpassably sexy.

Mi Li photographed me standing in these shoes and my legs in their deep red-wine coloured stockings with their arched-back dimpled knees as a consequence of wearing the shoes, and my pretty face that struggled to hide that I was deeply turned on by this return to being unlimitedly unmercifully precariously pirouetted, hopelessly helplessly, fully femininely, long lush leggily, supremely sensuously sinuously sexily, tormentingly teetering, totteringly tiptoed virtually on the very pinnacle points of my big toes tips.

Next, as if in compensation for the return of my legs to pirouette torture tiptoe, I was shown my coat. This was the way it was. I wore nothing but my no-heel steel-soled-ballet-shoes and the wine-red stockings, and they were showing me a coat.

I knew why of course. It was just so beautiful that they could not hold back any longer from showing it to me. My reaction was instantaneous. As Nina held it up for me to try it on, I wiggle tippy-top-of-tiptoe-tottered in my heelless balletic-shoes emitting girly cries of joy at its stunning colour. It was a perfect glowing shade of the royal blue that was the theme started by the ribbons holding the two plaits in my hair. It was in fox-fur dyed blue, except that the collar and turned-back cuffs were dyed light grey.

I rushed to slip my slender arms into its sleeves, to wrap it around me and to look at it with my body enhancing it in the full-length mirror on the front of my wardrobe. I twirled pirouetted on my lovely legs as I hugged the beautiful coat to my bare body and kissed Mina's cheek in my sexy excitement at being given such a lovely garment to model.

I fastened it up eagerly to see how it would look when I wore it for real. It must have been tailored to my exact divine girlshape.

There were three fastenings. The grey fox-fur collar turning to lapels left a v-neck to reveal my chest and my cleavage. Save that half-down my cleavage was a gold clasp I fastened to hold the coat closed against revealing other than the wondrously firm but soft free floating flow of the insides of my gorgeous naturally large 36 inch D-cup breasts down to my nipples, now hidden by my clasping the coat closed.

Around my slender waist was a five-inch wide belt of the same royal blue colour and material as the coat, and with a huge gold buckle I was pulling the belt through, so that the massive gold buckle would be at and below my navel.

Below the belt and just below my crutch was a four-inch diameter gold button, which was the final fastening. From there, the rear hem of the royal-blue fox-fur coat flowed to halfway down my calves.

I stood in this coat and twirled in front of my mirror. As I did by balletic twirl, the open front of the coat caught the breeze of my movement and the whole length of my wonderful pirouetted legs in their dark red-wine stockings was revealed up to and including my stocking tops. This was so sexy, that I whirled round to make the skirt of the coat flare out almost horizontal and reveal even my exquisite side-dimpled bottom.

Even in the English autumn I was hot in this garb, and I blew my sweet breath upwards to cool my pretty face as I moved to undo the lovely coat, in order to dress for our journey.

Mi Li signalled that she wanted more photos, so I left the coat fastened.

Whilst I posed in my magnificent royal blue coat as she directed, I asked Mi Li distractedly, "Should I not dress for the journey now?"

"You are Katterinna!" Mi Li's sexy husky voice drawled.

I gasped my astonishment.

"You go Russia only coat and all sexy naked under", Mi Li giggled.

If it is the first iron law of nature that all creatures answer to gravity, it must be the second iron law of nature that a girl with lovely legs longs to display them at their best. That being so, the third iron law of nature is that lovely legs displayed openly are rivetingly stunning, and the fourth that lovely legs flashed full length into vision only momentarily are not only rivetingly stunning but also irresistibly eye-commandingly devastatingly fascinating.

This beautiful coat I wore covered my legs and knees to half-down my calves. But it had no buttons or other fixings to hold it closed beyond the lowest button that was just below my crutch.

The intentional delightful consequence of this was that I constantly risked flashing my stockinged legs and thighs because, as I walked. Unless I drew it around me somehow, and there was no means for me to do so that I could find, the coat would fly open unbid on a breeze and, unless I drew the bottom of the coat over me again I would show miles of stockinged leg, even to the extent of revealing the dreamily soft bare flesh above my stocking tops.

I must, I obviously must keep this coat closed, or else lose my modesty to a full and unencumbered leg display for the entire world to see.

The sexiness of the imprisoning eroticism of this threatened to wet the lips of my split, as I put my impractically girl length fingernailed hands into the coat pockets to feel if that provided any means to control my coat's inevitable tendency to flow open at the merest zephyr.

Mi Li took photograph after photograph of me standing in this wonderful sexy fox-fur coat, so wrapped and warm and snug secreted and hidden: secreted and hidden that is, other than for the lowest part of my wonderful long strong beautiful legs in my heelless pirouette stance shoes.

They showed my face flushed as I blushed like an English Rose on heat with her girlness as indeed I was…….