Katrina's Taming

KATRINA'S TAMING (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 21 – Belinda's Secretary

My daily routine had been unaltered now for nearly a year past.

We were still in Jackie's dacha at ****** in Russia. "We" by now meant Belinda, Norna, Mina, Nina and I. Jackie and Mi Li had gone back to England. And, when I speak of "Jackie's dacha, I am strictly incorrect. Properly speaking we were now living in Belinda's dacha, as even the dacha, one of Jackie's homes for many years, had become Belinda's, as part of the deal arrived at to save Jackie from bankruptcy.

I now knew, since I was Belinda's secretary as well as her wife, that Belinda owned almost everything that had formerly been Jackie's. Even the magazines in which I had previously starred: "Pink Girl" and "SapphFire", were now emblazoned on their editorial pages with the detail: "Published by the Belinda Press Inc".

Belinda's operation was worldwide and, as a consequence, twenty-four-hours-a-day. As a consequence too, she thought nothing of making me work for twenty-four or even forty-eight hours non-stop.

At the end of each day, when the day had an end for me that is, she would personally oversee her wife's undressing in the privacy of my room. My rubber knickers would be cut from me as I stood in the shower so that the piss and shit with which I had filled them, and my menstruum when I was seeping, could be washed away.

My chastity bra and belt were removed during showering, and I would go to bed naked. I would go to bed naked, but in the shower I would be blindfolded or wear a four-foot-diameter rubber disc, like a ruff around my neck, so that I could not look down and see my own naked body, so that it should not arouse me sexually. I was never allowed to touch myself in the shower either. I must rely only on the gentle water to cleanse me. No swift flow was allowed either, in case that too might be used by me to arouse myself.

Before bed I was given the only meal I had all day. This comprised only raw fresh fruit. I was always and ever only to live on raw fresh fruit.

Abed, as well as through the fact that my cunt was still sewn closed, my continued chastity was ensured by my having my wrists girlackled and chained to the individual uprights of a four-poster bed, and my legs wide-parted and tied to the bed-end uprights. I lay thus on my back with no covers to warm me, in case I tried to rub myself against them to pleasure myself.

My bound legs were chained to the foot of the bed. I was gagged with a rubber strip. I was blindfolded with a rubber hood and still fitted with the neck disc, so that I could not see my body. Steel shutters were then raised to close the top, bottom, and both sides of my bed, and these were padlocked to keep me prisoner, protected, chaste, and absolutely celibate.

There were no longer any mirrors in my room. I must not be allowed to look at myself. Belinda would shave my legs and my bikini line whilst I wore a blindfold. My head would be shaven every other day by Belinda, Mina or Nina. For this operation, I was dressed in an all-over- figure-hiding, rubber covering cape, and my face was masked so that I could neither see nor have my face seen. And beneath the mask, I was rubber gagged so that I may not talk.

I rarely had more than six-hours sleep, before Belinda lowered the shutters surrounding my bed. I would then, after I had been showered blindfolded or in the rubber-neck-disc, in readiness for the day, have all my chastity belts and bra and branks refitted.

If time allowed after I was put in my shroud, I would go to the gymnasium to cycle, run the rolling road, and row, to keep me fit.

All the time before my day started, I was being filled with water through a tube in my mouth-covering chastity branks. This was my store of liquid for the day. My cunt-cup-to-mouth tube would be fitted thereafter, so that the urine collected in my chastity belt could be sucked up by me to drink. I would have no other means of quenching my thirst and indeed no other sustenance all day, for sixteen long hours. So I was forced to drink my own urine to try and keep myself hydrated.

Each and every day, a pair of black rubber armpit-length gloves would be rolled up my exquisite upper limbs. New black rubber knickers were then pulled up my glorious thighs to ensure my need to defecate could be dealt with without need of my leaving off from my duties. My black rubber shroud would be cast over my head, covering me totally head-to-toe once more, and I would glide in my flat-soled heelless rubber sandals to the office, kitchen, or garden, to begin my slaving.

In truth, I longed for the work as the only means I had to occupy my mind. What I was to do each day was boring for an intelligent girl such as I. But I needed to take my mind off my misery.

I had been deprived of talking for nearly a year now. My misery was total. Nobody had been allowed to talk to me for nearly a year now. My misery was total. I had been deprived of love for the best part of a year now. My misery was total. I had been deprived of sex of any kind for nearly a year now. My misery was totally total.

Among my duties, was that of waiting on the other girls at their break and meal times. There they were free and beautiful. And there I would be covered head-to-toe in my purposely-shapeless rubber robe, imprisoned beneath it in my chastity protecting, chastity enforcing, chastity ensuring, spiked cunt and tit shields, ever present among them and yet ever absent from them.

I would listen to their chatter about life and love and family and friends, and my loneliness and helpless hopelessness would be thereby emphasised. It was from this chatter that I had learned that Jackie, my love, had returned to London. It was from this chatter that I had learned that Jackie, my love, was living with Mi Li, that Mi Li was Jackie's lover, and that Mi Li hoped that Jackie would ask her to marry her.

Nobody spoke to me as I waited upon them. They would merely point at what I was to do or bring, and I would obey.

It was not only my duty to prepare all meals, it was also my duty to clean up behind them and to wash the cooking utensils, the crockery, and the cutlery, and tidy the kitchen.

I had also to vacuum clean, dust and polish throughout the dacha, and to make their beds, change their sheets, and perform all the other duties of a housemaid.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, I would be washing and ironing. On Tuesdays and Thursdays and Sundays, I would be on my knees scrubbing the kitchen floor and polishing the wooden corridor floorboards, the banisters of the stairways, and the wooden stairs themselves.

As well as tidying and changing beds, collecting soiled clothing for the laundry, dusting and polishing the bedrooms every day, I must also clean out the showers and the lavatories….

…..Throughout the spring, autumn, and summer, winter too when the weather allowed, I tended the garden, with particular emphasis on growing vegetables and fruit for self-sufficiency, and with potatoes carrots and other ground vegetables necessitating heavy spade work by me ……

…..And I must do all this and more, dressed always in my full chastity protection and my head-to-toe shroud, though often perspiring profusely and always extremely weary.

I performed all my duties dutifully. I was totally obedient. It mattered not whether I was scrubbing out a lavatory-bowl or sorting Belinda's filing as best I could in my arm-length rubber gloves, I did as I was obliged to do: I was the totally obedient wife of my wedding-day vows.

For almost a year I had also been totally chaste. My clothing covered me such that I could attract nobody with the magnetic beauty of my body, so fully and completely and purposely hidden was it. My underclothing also covered me so as to protect me against any of my sexual parts being visited by either a stranger or by me myself. My only sexual pleasure was to admire the free girls, Mina, Nina, Belinda and Norna, and my wet-dreams, most often of Mi Li's erect cock hard up my bum, shagging my lovely derriere after she had spanked it.

But my wet-dreams would never ever deliver me a cum. The eternal rorment ring tight around my clitoris saw to that. I could not get aroused sexually without the hell of the pain this ring caused me. If my clitoris dared try to engorge, it would bite savagely cruelly into me. It had therefore been a year since I had experienced an orgasm.

I was still very girl beneath my dehumanising de-sexing clothing. I still had longings. I still had desires. I still had wants. I still had needs. But, effectively, for twelve long lonely months now, I had been deprived of all sex, and this was but the beginning of a life that from henceforth would always be empty of sex and love.

Was it any wonder that I cried myself to sleep almost every night?

………………….

From time-to-time, Belinda would hold dinner parties. Most often these were for the purpose of improving or at least maintaining business. My duty then, totally without assistance, was to prepare the courses ordered, to serve them, to serve wine, to tidy away, and to clean up afterwards. And even along with this, I must answer the door and take the hats and coats of the guests and serve them with the welcoming drinks of their choice.

These occasions would be breakneck-hectic for me. At all times I must be awake and attentive to the needs of Belinda and her guests so that my husband-girl would not be let down by her wife. I had barely a moment to try and quench my thirst by sucking and sipping my salty urine through the tube from the cup over my sex.

These evenings could also spill over into early mornings, and I would have been never-endingly on my feet slaving over my endless tasks all day, only to be expected to work all night too, if Belinda's guests showed no desire to go back to their own homes.

I was completely used now to walking around with my rubber knickers full of my faeces. In the early days in the shroud and celibacy bondage, I had tried to restrain myself and hold-off from defecating until my evening shower. But my diet of fruit, and fruit, and more fruit, made me need to evacuate myself twice a day at the very least.

I was never allowed a moments rest and there was certainly no chance that I would ever be allowed to undress to the degree needed to use a lavatory every time I needed one, so I must piss and shit in my rubber knickers. I must pee in my knickers, or at least into the cup over my sex that the tube ran to from my mouth. And I must shit into my rubber knickers. And I must walk around in my piss and shit filled rubber knickers all day.

Even as I waited on table at Belinda's dinner parties, I would be doing the bidding of her guests with, unknown to them, my rubber knickers filled to the brim with my shit.

"But you are married Katrina ****!" announced one slurred drunken guest's innocent girlish voice one very late evening as I wandered around the table busy with refilling wine glasses for the umpteenth time.

"I did" Belinda answered tolerantly, being only too aware that this was the girl, this very young girl was the girl with whom she needed to agree a key contract.

"She's lovely" opined the same drunk girl. "I wish I had legs like hers: legs one million or are they ten-million miles long……"

Belinda made no answer.

"What's she doing now: Katrina; your wife; what's she doing now? This very pretty miniature blonde-bombshell with her hair under a white soft-felt hat enquired.

"I'd prefer you not to talk about my wife", Belinda insisted quietly.

"Sorry Belinda, sorry", slurred her too loud and all too drunk companion, "Bet she gives you sleepless nights though. You couldn't just lie alongside a body like hers and not give it what it deserves…."

"……Is she juicy? I bet she's a real melon. Bet her cunt dribbles eh? God I'd have loved to lick her out! Lick the mustard from her slice; nibble her little hot-dog-sausage. Bet she cums like a thunder storm, you lucky girl! You're a fuckin' lucky girl Belinda, to be married to Katrina an' all…….Oh god, how and how I'd love to taste her kisses!!"

"If you must know", Belinda began patiently, "If you must know, you have had the pleasure of Katrina's presence all throughout this very evening."

Even though I could see little through the tiny horizontal gauze-window-cum-ventilation-slit in my shroud, I noticed this drunken doll of a girl, whose loudness seemed to belie her fundamental sweetness and innocence, proving in fact that she should not take alcohol, looking around and trying to find what she had been missing: for to her eyes there had been nobody there that evening except she herself, Belinda, and the other guests."

"What'd yer mean!?" the still getting drunker girl demanded, clearly entirely out of character from the tongue-easing and mind blurring of alcohol.

"My wife now wears the shroud", Belinda confirmed, "As Katrina is my wife she must obey me absolutely. I have ordered that Katrina, my wife, be chaste and one-hundred-percent celibate henceforth forever".

"Oh my god!! You mean the creature….the creature…the thing….in the rubber robe… the thing like a black ghost creeping around among us……?", the astonished girl struggled to slur her astounded query…..

"Yes", said Belinda. "Katrina has worn the vestments of new-virgin-celibacy for exactly one year today. Today is our wedding anniversary."

"That's Katrina ******?! The creature covered head-to-toe in the horrible rubber robe is Katrina ******?!!

"Yes!" said Belinda, "The girl in the rubber shroud is Katrina. The girl in the shroud is my wife: the girl I married one-year ago this very morning".

"You're putting me on! You couldn't…..I mean she was so sexy…..she was so beautiful…..she was so girl………..Katrina was so girl, you couldn't keep a girl like that………I mean she was so incredibly desirable…..so impossibly alluring…..she was the girlest girl I have ever come across……….Katrina was girl, all girl….."

"Katrina was wild uncontrolled and untamed", Belinda mused calmly: "….Jackie, bless her, did her best to tame her. Jackie even got her legally spiked by deliberately making her shoplift in London. Jackie had no idea really….."

"…..The girl in the shroud is my wife. She will wear the shroud for ever and ever now. And, what is more, she is fully chaste and she will remain chaste and celibate forever more: for ever more from now. All three of her love-holes are guarded at all times and she wears a chastity-protection brassiere over her breasts at all times, and has done so for a year. Katrina has had no sex for a year……"

"And is she….? Is she….?"

"'Is she' what? 'Is she happy?' is that your question?", asked Belinda, "Whatever the question is, it is irrelevant. Katrina will wear the chastity protection and remain chaste and celibate forever beneath the shroud. She has no say in the matter. She is my wife. And as she will never ever need it again, I have even had her sex sewn closed…."

"Oh my god. You're kidding….You're just saying that to turn me on …..She's infibulated? You've had that sexy beauty infibulated?!!"

"Yes……….Katrina has had her cunt completely sewn tight-shut. She is totally and permanently infibulated. She had no say in that matter either. She is my wife."

It was only at this point that I realised that this conversation about me was being had in my hearing in part because it was turning both young women on. Even as both girls pretended that nothing of the sort was happening, the very young girl, a contessa, was running her inexperienced right hand up and down Belinda's stockinged thigh beneath the table.

As, at being beckoned, I drew near them to pour more wine into the drunken girl's seemingly ever-empty glass, I saw that this girl's hand was now in Belinda's micro-panties and feeling her soft blonde curls, and that Belinda was loving this attention to her stunningly gorgeous body.

I moved away as I must to attend to guests leaving, obediently finding their coats and holding the door open for them submissively, till they chose to exit.

For another hour and a half, this went on, till all the guests had departed, except for the felt-hatted contessa, who was now being kissed and caressed by Belinda.

As I returned once more to the banqueting hall, Belinda was being kissed full on her lips very passionately, Belinda and the drunk being the only people left in the room bar myself, and I did not count.

Of course I was recounting over and over in my head the cruel words Belinda had told me with, that she had no love for other girls and would never ever want my body. Of course I was recounting over and over in my head the bitter tears I had cried at Belinda confirming that it was she who had ordered that my cunt be sewn-up and remain sewn-up because it would never ever be needed for love-making again. Of course I was recounting over and over in my head how I had sobbed at Belinda ordering that I be made to wear the chastity irons over all three of my love-holes. And of course I was recounting over and over in my head the savage sentence Belinda had pronounced upon me, that I must be put in the shroud for ever and a day, because if she did not want me, then nobody else was going to have me, and I was certainly never ever to be allowed to touch myself.

As I caught a glimpse of my husband-girl's wonderful strong shapely thigh, I lowered my head so that I could witness no more of her betraying me, and went about my duty of clearing the dinner table in order to hand-wash all the used crockery and utensils and clean the kitchen, before I might be allowed to report to be tied in my bed for the little of the night that was left.

In clearing the mess from the table I was, of necessity, getting ever closer to the kissing couple, and was about to decide that I would be diplomatic and, even though they carried on as if I was not there, because in their minds I was not there, because in their minds I did not count as a human presence, I would vacate to the kitchen till they had left.

It was then that Belinda's voice called; "Wife!", and I turned and lowered my shroud covered head.

"Go to my room, turn back the bedding, and wait for us" Belinda ordered. "Contessa Zarina and I have some business to attend to…."

I went immediately to do as I had been bade, and then waited patiently near the slightly opened door of Belinda's bedroom, so as to be ready to carry out the duty of letting the loving couple enter.

I waited and waited and waited, nearly falling asleep on my feet I was so extremely tired.

……Then, after nearly an hour, I heard footsteps in the corridor……..

"Are you sure, I mean really sure?" I heard the contessa ask for what I guessed might not be the first time.

"Sure I'm sure" Belinda answered, "I was going to have it done some time anyway. It'll be my wedding anniversary present for her. And besides, don't you dare question my orders!"

"Do I get to see her then please?"

"No you do not!" Belinda commanded, sober still despite copious red wine.

Contessa Zarina almost fell into Belinda's bedroom she was so drunk, and I almost committed the unpardonable sin of saving her from falling by catching hold of her. It was a reflex action that, perhaps fortunately, I did not in the event need to carry through, for I would never have been forgiven for daring to touch anyone, least of all Belinda's honoured guest.

As Belinda followed into the room behind the contessa, she placed something, two things, or three, I could not see clearly through the eye slit in my all-enveloping shroud, on her dressing table. I was also surprised to see that Belinda had with her, the shroud I wore to hide my body when I was having my head re-shaved bald, and the mask that was used to hide my face during head shaving.

She, Belinda, pointed toward the bathroom and I went, as per my unspoken order, before her. In the bathroom, she lifted off my full-cover shroud, took out my drinking tube, unlocked and removed my branks, and put my head through the shoulder shroud, the head-shaving shroud, before masking me and ordering me, by a curt shove, back into the bedroom.

In the bedroom though I could not see because of my blindfolding mask, I got the impression that the contessa had her back to me and was sitting before the dressing table in which I had obediently ensured before that I did use the mirror, because it was not allowed me to do so. This was seemingly confirmed by her next words, which indicated she was struggling with some intricacy, and only from her sixth sense become aware that Belinda and I had re-entered the room.

"But I can't get it threaded mistress", the contessa nervously complained.

"Allow me" Belinda sneared and, I assume, succeeded where the contessa had failed. Belinda was perhaps still working on the problem when the contessa suddenly called out, obviously having turned to see me, and speaking in a voice that suggested she was aware she was being disobedient: "You've shaved her! You've shaved her head completely bald! You've shaved the poor girl!"

"Katrina is forbidden to entice" Belinda announced cooly, "Her hair was an integral part of her attractiveness. It had to go, and it has to stay gone. She is shaved bald every other day to keep it in check".

"The poor girl! She was so stunning!" opined the pretty little contessa. "Please: I hope you never order me to be shaved….."

"She is my wife now. I have no use for her being 'stunning' as you choose to put it" Belinda mused out loud, sarcastically.

"There now: I've threaded it. Don't forget you must leave a gap in the middle."

I braced myself suddenly. Something was going on that involved me.

Then I sensed that Belinda was behind me. She took a firm grip with her arm around my neck and then, with her free hand, bent up the lower part of my mask to expose my mouth, to be seen by somebody other than her, my husband-girl, for the first time in twelve long lonely months.

"She always had exquisite lips" Contessa Zarina opined, quietly admiring my mouth, the only part of my masked face she was allowed, indeed privileged to be allowed to see.

"You're not here to admire her lips or anything else that was true in the past about her" Belinda reminded the contessa. "My order to you was that you sew Katrina's mouth closed".

As I instantly recoiled by reflex on hearing her say what was about to be done to me, Belinda took tighter almost choking grip of my neck, her forearm pressing hard on my Adam's apple.

Immediately I was made to purse my lips through a bulldog-clip being attached to one side of my two closed-together lips, so that, as I realised with terror and horror, they could be sewn together.

"Remember" Belinda reminded Contessa Zarina, "You must sew her mouth from either side to the centre. It needs only a small hole left in the middle. A hole is only to be left so she can be fed through a funnel, have mouthwash to cleanse her teeth, and so she can use the tube to drink when she is thirsty. Otherwise she is to have her mouth sewn completely utterly and finally shut."

This was my husband-girl speaking. I must obey my husband-girl. And so I stood obediently waiting for this complete stranger to sew my mouth up. Unbelievably, I stood obediently patiently waiting for the contessa to sew my lips closed. I was going to have my mouth sewn-up, and yet I was obedience itself. This was my wedding anniversary present: I was going to have my sweet pretty mouth-lips sewn together.

And then Belinda tightened her grip around my neck and I was almost being choked. And then I felt the point of the needle below my lower lip on the left of my face scratching my soft skin as the contessa's very nervous hands shook. And then she was pushing the curved needle into me and my girl-soft skin was compressed and yielding, but not yet pierced.

And then the contessa thrust the curved needle hard upwards and I moaned with the pain as she had pierced through my lower lip at the white skin just below the red of my lips, behind the red of my lips. And I could feel the cruel needle being pushed up and up so that now it was touching inside my mouth behind my upper lip. And then it was through my mouth and up through behind my upper lip and following it through my flesh was the thread. The thread was being slowly pulled through my lower and upper lips. And now the needle had gone right through both of my lips. And the thread stopped from being drawn through my flesh as the knot that tied the two ends of the thread, the tight nylon thread that had gone through the eye of the needle, the knot was stopping the thread being drawn through my lips any further.

And the needle was at my lower lip once more so that the thread had crossed in front of my lips. And I was being sewn through from behind the red of my lower lip a second time perhaps two-millimetres from the first stitch and the needle was mercilessly pushed through behind my lips to sew them as pursed, to sew them permanently pursed. And I felt the thread being pulled through my raw sore flesh and the needle was again at my lower lip and this was unstoppable, I was having my mouth sewn closed, and I could do nothing to stop this hideous torture.

And the thread was being pulled through after the needle to complete my third stitch. And I wanted to cry out. I wanted to shout out for them to stop. I wanted my pretty mouth. I wanted to be able to use my lovely mouth. I wanted to shout for mercy before I was forever sewn shut and could never speak again. But I obediently stayed my speech. I was not allowed to speak without my husband-girl's permission. My husband-girl had not given me permission to speak even once in the past year, and she was not going to give permission now as she was having my mouth sewn shut so that such permission became a total irrelevance for all future time.

And the thread was being pulled through me to complete the fourth stitch. And at each stitch I had the tight thread behind my lips and in front of my lips, as each new needle piercing was begun just below the red of my lower lip, so that the thread from my previous stitch ran tightly over both of my lips from where it had been pulled out above my top lip, just behind the red of my top lip. And I felt the thread being drawn through as the fifth stitch was completed.

And the needle was once more at my bottom lip to sew my mouth closed. And now I felt a twitching in my cunt. The brutality of what was being done to me, the raw brutality of my sweet mouth being sewn up, was causing my nectar to run behind my girl-lip stitches, behind my infibulation, inside my already sewn-up cunt.

And I must not let my husband-girl know that her holding me helpless as my mouth was being sewn closed was arousing me. And the sixth stitch was being completed and the seventh begun and half of my mouth was slowly but surely approaching being sewn closed. And the seventh stitch was done and the eighth begun, and my cunt-honey was dribbling into my rubber knickers with my arousal, but I must not let it show, I must not let it show. Sexual pleasure was totally forbidden me. I must not let my arousal show!

And I suffered the searing stitches in subservient silence as the centre of my mouth was reached and the thread tied off so that new thread could be used to sew to the middle again from the right side of my mouth. And once more I felt the pain and it was pleasure now. The total horror of my having my mouth sewn closed forever, was a perverse painful pleasure to me now. It was a sexual pleasure. And my clitoris now began to throb. And then I murmur-moaned-out with agony as my clitoris tried to expand and the eternal-torment ring around my clit, bit hard into it, and doused my sexual heat in milliseconds of excruciating pain. And my secret was out. There was no needle near my lips to cause the outcry I had just emitted, so my secret was out. My clit ring had bitten me. My clit ring could only bite if my clit was aroused, so my secret sexual arousal was no secret anymore.

My dousing, the dousing of my sexual fire was complete and the pain of my mouth being sewn up was real and agonising as it slowly reached its conclusion and the stitches coming in from either side of my mouth left me with just a tiny hole in the centre of my lovely lips. And they were so tight; my stitches were so terribly tight, and painful, and my mouth was now as completely sewn shut as was my cunt, and my tears of horror and pain and frustration ran down behind my mask.

Above all my tears were of frustration: sexual frustration. I longed for a cum. I despaired for a cum. I was a girl with needs like any other girl. I was a sexual being. I was a sexual girl. I had longed and prayed for a cum for twelve long months. I had suffered my clit ring for twelve endless months. I had endured my cunt being totally sewn closed for twelve arid months. I had worn the chastity belt over my two lower love-tunnels for twelve months. I had had my beautiful breasts encased in the spiked protective brassiere for twelve empty months too, so that they could never be caressed again. I had worn my branks and had the chastity of my mouth protected for all twelve of the twelve months of the year. I had had my pretty hands hidden in the long rubber gloves for that same twelve months, so that they could not excite and entice. I had worn the top-to-below-toe completely enveloping completely hiding, completely de-sexing, completely de-girling shroud, for all twelve of those same horrible married months, the twelve months of my married life, the twelve months of my life as Belinda's wife. And now I had endured my mouth being sewn shut forever, at the behest of my wife. I was a girl in heaven's name!! I was a girl!!

As Belinda led me back into the bathroom to hide me from her guest whilst she removed my mask and took off my head-shaving all-enveloping cape, and returned me to my full cover head-to-floor black rubber shroud, even after refitting my branks despite the fact that my mouth was sewn shut to ensure that my upper love-tunnel was completely unusable. She put the pee-drinking tube back into my mouth, my newly sewn-up extremely sore mouth, through the hole in the branks into the only hole left between my lovely lips, and sent me back to the bedroom still without a night's sleep food or water. Belinda sent me to the bedroom like a slave frustrated and forever without a cum.

I was to be now and forever chaste and celibate. I was to be for now and forever without a cum. The tears poured down my lonely face under my shroud, and I shook with uncontrollable complete and utter misery as I obeyed my husband-girl and returned to the bedroom where the contessa just stared at my shrouded form as I stood, back-to-the-wall, looking at the foot of Belinda's bed, looking at the pretty young Contessa Zarina sitting waiting for Belinda to rejoin us. I was a girl in heaven's name!! I was a girl!!

This was my wedding anniversary. This was Belinda's wedding anniversary. Belinda and I had been married for one-year as of later in the morning of this terrible day: the day on which, as her anniversary present to me, her wife, Belinda had just had my mouth sewn closed by a complete stranger, for the sole unfeeling purpose of taking over a contract from her and to torture the contessa by making her commit the terrible crime.

The contessa, no more than five-feet-one in her doft felt wide-brimmed hat, perhaps sixteen-years-old, pretty, blonde and with a clearly firm and heavy bosom, still sat on the edge of Belinda's bed, staring at me, the hem of her mini-dress having unconsciously slid up to reveal white fleshed, pink-stockinged, pink-suspendered, very shapely legs.

Contessa Zarina's legs were sensational. They were wonderfully muscled and muscle-toned. She had quite evidently trained as a dancer and, probably, from the perfection of her every movement and the magnificent muscularity of her lovely lower limbs, as a ballerina.

Busy as I had been serving the guests at Belinda's dining table, I had not had any real opportunity to look at this lovely little girl till now, when I was in fact doing so against my year-long mental attuning, in favour of lowering and averting my eyes when feminine beauty presented itself to me: as I was a married woman now.

Throughout the dinner, Contessa Zarina had worn her wide brimmed soft white-felt hat. She still wore it now. Even so, I could see that beneath it, she had, evidently presently drawn up on top of her head, bright-shining golden blonde hair.

Everything about this girl was compact perfection, even down to her sweet little hands. I found myself imaging her lovely little hands on my breasts and my cunt began to moisten despite the burning pain from the wounds caused by the sewing-up of my mouth.

Her face was divine. It was heart shaped with a little nose, freckled across its bridge, upturned at its tip. Her mouth, small pretty and forever smiling, perfect teeth displayed; always caught the first focus of one's attention. Thereafter the eyes had you. Lovely bright-blue, twinkling baby-blue-orbs, that cast themselves down at a look from another, especially an admiring look: eyes that seemed to tell of sexual innocence.

The contessa wore a long-sleeved mini-dress, tight at her wrists, coral pink in colour, and lipstick and nail varnish to match. There was something about her dress and make-up that told of inexperience and youthfully misguided choices of attire and make-up. Nonetheless, this added to, rather than detracting from her attractiveness.

Belinda, my husband-girl, was out of the view I was able to span through the heavily gauze covered slit in my all-covering rubber shroud. Then Belinda came back into sight. She now wore white leather. Head-to-toe she wore white leather: top, leg-long pants, and spike-heeled knee-high boots. Her top and pants fitted her so closely that all of her lithe slim model-girl's body was almost more naked than if it had been naked in fact. Only her long-fingered hands and her pallid high-cheek-boned, sharp-featured, piercing green-eyed face were free. Her blonde hair was drawn up into a ponytail. She looked the essence of cruelty. She looked a wonderful wicked witch.

Belinda was clearly the dominant partner with the contessa. Hitherto it had almost seemed to be Contessa Zarina who had made the first move. Perhaps that had been the heavy drinking that the contessa now seemed to be remarkably quickly recovered from. But now it was undoubtedly Belinda who was the dominant partner with the contessa, and the contessa, supremely soft and fully femininely very vulnerable.

"Are you going to whip me for getting drunk again?" asked the contessa, staring doe-eyed stunned-lovingly up at Belinda.

"Take off your panties", Belinda commanded in response.

The pretty contessa looked over at me. She could not see my eyes but she knew, or at least she thought she could be sure, that I was looking at her.

"Katrina's looking!" she protested mildly.

"Who is Katrina?" Belinda sneered. "Katrina is nothing. She does not exist. The creature in the shroud can be completely ignored. She is a total irrelevance……."

Even though she was unconvinced by this response, Contessa Zarina reached up her skirt and slowly lowered her bright pink panties down to her dolly divine feet in their three-inch heeled sandals, and stepped out of the panties, blushing almost as pink as the panties were coloured.

Belinda took the panties and, as she did so, I saw how red the gusset of the panties was. A huge patch of the gusset was stained red in contrast to the pretty panty's pink, because the gusset was totally saturated by the contessa's girl-juice

Belinda took the contessa' panties and lifted them to her nose to inhale the contessa's musk.

"Your musk is the scent of Eden's forbidden fruit" Belinda told her, winning a gasp of sensual sexy surrender from her pulchritudinous pupil.

"Strip absolutely naked, except for your hat" Belinda demanded.

The curvaceous compact contessa's face flash flushed fully rouge.

Since I was only a servant, it was Contessa Zarina's right to come to me and turn her back to make it evident that, in order for her to obey Belinda's instruction she strip nude, I assist by lowering the zip at the top rear of her dress, so that she could thereafter reach it down the rest of the way.

I obliged with this tiny service and received the reflex words, "Thank you" from the perfect petit angel, giving me almost the only appreciation I had had from anyone, bar Belinda's daughter Norna, in the whole twelve months of my married life.

That sweetly spoken genuine "thank you" almost melted my poor heart, so sudden and sincere and innocent of the year of deprivation and humiliation I had endured was it. But what melted my heart in truth and reality was the sight I saw as the contessa stripped initially to her underwear and then, as ordered, to nothing bar her soft felt wide-brimmed hat.

As she stripped, for some reason my eyes focused first on her slim wrists, which were reddened and bruised in clear evidence that they had recently been tightly bound. Then my heart went out to the angelic contessa as I saw her body. It was divinely delectable, not least to the eyes of a girl such as I, who had been sex-starved for a whole year.

Contessa Zarina's sixteen-year-old's body, was divinely delectable. She was delineated like a Stradivarius cello, with huge firm breasts, I could tell from my rear view that perhaps she was but thirty-four-inch C-cup, but her breasts seemed huge on her doll-sized body, and the roundest firmest bottom, topping out her ballerina muscle-toned legs.

Contessa Zarina's body was divinely delightful. It had also recently been savagely whipped. As she stripped, out of modesty, she had turned her back to me, and I could see that the soft skin of her back was striped with healing welts that seemed to be radiating around her sides, toward the front of her body.

It was only as she turned that I saw what had been done to her: for then I moaned with pain for her, as I looked at her breasts. Her breasts had been beaten hard, often, brutally, and unmercifully. Clearly, she had been suspended by her lovely wrists and had had her breasts beaten with a scourge around from behind her.

Had Belinda done this? Had my cruel wife beaten this sweet doll so cruelly?

Belinda had been once more out of my sight, but I knew where she was by looking at the infatuated china-blue, wide-staring, transfixed innocent eyes of the contessa. Now Belinda came back into the view from my lonely narrow gauze covered eye-slit.

Now Belinda came back into view, and I saw that she wore a harness around her white-leather clad body. She wore a harness that comprised of a strap around her waist, a strap running down between her legs, and straps around the tops of both of her thighs. The harness, in white leather, was to support a ten or eleven-inch erect dildo that thrust up from between Belinda's legs. Belinda was wearing a white leather strap-on dildo.

"Remove your hat my angel", Belinda instructed with the loving tenderness of voice I, her wife of one whole frustrating year of tears duration, had longed to hear from her.

"Remove your hat my angel", Belinda instructed the contessa, and I witnessed the most incredibly wonderful sight I had ever yet seen in the whole of my life.

"Remove your hat my angel", Belinda instructed the contessa, and the contessa reached up in what my clear memory recalls as slow-motion, took out two hat-pins and lifted her wide-brimmed soft white-felt hat from her head, to let fall, a cascade, a torrent, a waterfall, a miracle of shimmering shining shimmying swaying abundant abandoned kink-curled golden blonde hair, that fell as if from heaven down to her slim ankles.

I moaned with my absolute astonishment at this fantastically incredible unbelievably erotic vision. This little doll had the most beautiful head of the longest blondest blonde hair, and here before my unbelieving eyes it had fallen from the heavens to cloak her head to pretty feet in its sweet perfumed perfection. She looked for all the heavens now, like the sweetest of the sweetest angels: an angel's angel.

Contessa Zarina looked for all the heavens now like an angel's angel, yet she was wanton girl as she ran and leaped to cling to my husband-girl by her lovely ballerina's legs wrapped around Belinda's waist, and her little doll's sweet arms around Belinda's neck, and with the tip of Belinda's upthrusting white-leather strap-on dildo just inside the outer lips of her tiny, tight. curly-gold-blonde-downed slit.

And I watched through the tears clouding my eyes as my husband-girl let the angel's angel, with her hair hanging kinked-curly wildly down to nearly touch the very ground, slide down onto the dildo and cry out with open-mouthed eyes-shut astonished pain. And I watched the face of the innocent contessa as her slit took the strap-on dildo into her. And I saw her pretty mouth agape with astonishment at some little agony within her intimate hole. And then I saw fresh livid crimson trickle like milk down the dildo that was only partially in that angel's sweet slit.

And I realised that she had been a virgin and her cry of pain and the blood as she lowered her cunt further, was from the ripping of her hymen, and her extreme first-time tightness, and her cry of pleasure and her "No!" such a sexy "No!" such a "No!" as meant "Yes!!" as the pain pulsed, as she was lubricated as much or more by her virgin's blood as by her virgin's girl-juice, to slide right down onto the dildo's eleven-inches, to moan sweet heavenly childlike pained pleasure, pinnacled from her first time orgasm, so rapidly did she cum, and so often did she cum, as she clung to Belinda, and cried tears from her astonished, astonishing, clear-bright-blue eyes, as she surrendered her virginity to the woman who, just one week since, had cruelly, skilfully, unyielding unmercifully, scourged her naked virgin's breasts to flog this virgin to her first ever multiple orgasm.

And beneath my inhuman dehumanising shroud, I cried endless bitter tears, with helpless hopeless heading that I had finally and absolutely lost the love I had never had. I had finally and absolutely lost the hope I had never had. I had finally and absolutely lost all hope that my husband-girl would ever love her wife. I had lost all hope that my husband-girl would ever love me. I had been tortured, physically and mentally, for a year till this, the dawn of our first wedding anniversary, and the loss of virginity on the anniversary of my wedding night: the loss of this captivating completely cunt-besotted girl's virginity, to my husband-girl, as I was forced to watch.

And as the bounteously-besotted blonde sixteen-year-old ballet-beautiful-legged angel's angel stared dreamingly unseeingly at me over the left shoulder of my husband-girl, to whom she still clung by her wrapped around arms and legs in sweet soft surrender, her eyes, her innocent sixteen-year-old's doll-blue eyes, were opening and closing in supremely shocked surprise, at her sudden swift-soundless-searing-security-sheath-splitting, and the sensually surrendered saturation she had so swiftly sustained, since, sensitive securing-sheet split, she had slithered her sundered sopping slit so, surrounded by her seeping slot, the spike on which her sex sat, had speedily sliced her to sexual sensation satiation…….

……..And the hitherto innocent, the hitherto virgin, the sixteen-year-old angel's angel ballerina's lovely blinking besotted blue eyes looked straight through me, as her bright red virgin blood, the crimson blood from her freshly ripped hymen dripping to the carpet, mocked my agony at deliberately enforcedly witnessing the joy, her joy, at what; in what; from what; I would never ever know again.