Katrina's Taming

KATRINA'S TAMING (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 23 – Love At First Sight

"Hi Katterinna" Mi Li's sweet voice whispered as she bent over to kiss me with her lovely Korean girlboy's lips pressing gently on my forehead.

"Hi Katterinna" Mi Li breathed as she pulled away from where I lay, sitting up waking up in a sweet smelling bed.

"Hi" I answered, and immediately broke into tears as I realised that I had spoken, my mouth being possible to open, my tongue to articulate, my lips no longer stitched closed.

A while later: "How is she?" Jackie's voice recognisably enquired as her pretty face peered around the corner of the bedroom door.

"She come round," Mi Li answered.

"I should hope so. You've cost me a fortune in surgery and dentistry young lady!" Jackie mock lectured me adorably gently.

Jackie had proved a friend indeed to me, her friend in need. Over the next few days, she scolded me sweetly for getting into trouble with GirlControl. And she told me how she and Mi Li had been caught in traffic as they came by girl-pulled-omnibus to collect me from London Airport on my return from Moscow, only to find on their arrival that I was nowhere to be seen.

Many hours late, and frantic, they had at last been contacted by GirlControl and told that I was enduring my sentence of twenty-four-hours hard labour under the girl-laws for foolishly appearing in public without a ring on my finger.

I had love and hatred to thank for my newfound freedom. Jackie wanted me tamed, but loved me as a friend sufficiently not to wish me to suffer to the extent I had been forced to endure at the hands of the divinely cruel Belinda. Indeed, because of what Belinda had done to me, hate had almost replaced Jackie's former friendship for her business rival. It had been Jackie who had bought me from Belinda. It had been Jackie who had paid for me to be divorced by Belinda.

Over further time, I learned from Mi Li how Jackie had bribed a surgeon to operate on my sex and my mouth to remove the savage stitches that infibulated them. I still had my eternity-ring tight around the base of my clitoris as that had been irremovable, unless I were to have my clitoris itself surgically removed which, thank heaven, Jackie had forbidden.

My teeth had been "in dreadful mess" as Mi Li put it, and another bribe to a dentist had been necessary. The girl-laws were very harsh and the surgeon and dentist had been very expensive: their cost matching the risks they took in denunnifying me, completely against the state's laws.

Once more I was in debt to my long-time friend Jackie, both as my saviour and in money terms, the latter more immensely than when my taming had begun, as the exchange demanded by Jackie for a loan to save me from penury and the loss of my home.

I now worked hard in Jackie's gymnasium. She had got her lovely London home back. I got my lovely figure back. I must also work hard to repay my debt, in both forms it took, back to Jackie. To the latter end, I became 'nine-to-five'.

Jackie's business empire was beginning to recover since, a year back. She had satisfied the demands of the tax office. But Jackie's businesses were not so well recovered as yet, for her to find employment for me, so I became nine-to-five, surprisingly enough, working as a clerk in a local GirlControl office.

I say "surprisingly", because I had been in trouble with GirlControl twice already, and had a one-year criminal record that had not yet expired, even though it should have done. However, such was the state's clampdown on the behaviour of girls in the 2020s, that I was far from being alone in that regard. No girl with a permanent criminal record would have been allowed my job. But my record would be expunged in time, if the computers ever got it right, and such short-term records did not count against a girl, unless one with a clean record also wanted the job.

My task was the extremely enjoyable one for me; of being in the office deciding which girls would be allowed to marry each other.

By the 2020s, no girl was allowed to marry without state approval. The Marital Approval Office (Girl-Girl) had been set up by the Assembly to handle applications. My job was to file these applications, and refer the files for decisions, before filling out a "yes" or "no" letter to be signed by one of my seniors and thereafter posted by me, to the lucky, or unlucky, couples.

The only horrible side to the job was having to send out a "no". But, even then, there were couples one half of which I could not understand the other half wishing to wed. Young girls wishing to marry very much older women were always suspected of being gold-diggers, for example.

Of course, in such a dreary undemanding job, I was not earning anything like enough to pay Jackie what I owed her for my surgery and dentistry, let alone what she had paid Belinda to buy me out of my horrible marriage. But this was the only job I could find, and Jackie proved very patient with me.

Of course, I made very very sure that I never went out of Jackie's London apartment for my day at the office, or for any other reason, without wearing a ring on my finger. I chose to wear a ring on my left wedding finger to show that I was girl-girl, and I delighted in the pretence that I was now married to Jackie, though that was not in fact the case. Jackie in actuality merely owned me, having bought me from Belinda. On the technicality that I had not become a fully convicted lifelong-criminal-record very naughty girl, I was not Jackie's slave though.

A dull public servant, I had taken to wearing a "uniform" as one might call it, though it did not have that status in fact. Dark grey skirt and jacket top, with lighter grey pinstripes plus, most days, an opaque white blouse.

A white bra white panties and white suspenders supporting light-brown stockings, marked my unoriginality in dress. These days too, I rarely wore heels over one-inch, and never heels as high as two-inches.

The hair had re-grown on my hitherto bald-shaven head, and was down to the base of my neck. I fully intended to grow it to the fullest length I could, as it was the present fashion. Whilst it was re-growing, I had taken to wearing soft wide-brimmed hats and had fallen in love with such headwear to shelter my lovely skin from the sun of summer.

I commuted each day from London, where the mainline station was a ten-minute walk from Jackie's home, to ******, still in the 2020s a university town. I had, of course, no memory of them the first time around, but shortage of oil by the 2020s, or at least the desire to conserve what remained possible to secure, had seen the return of coal mining to England, and coal-fired steam driven locomotives hauled the trains I rode each day, twice per day, to and from work at the day's start and at the office-day's end.

And, it was on a very hot and humid day on the platform of ****** Station that I first saw her. She must be a schoolgirl, I quickly concluded. I was awaiting the arrival of the 17.12 to my home station in London and so; though I did not then know it, so was she.

She was a girl. Every single square micro-micro-micro-millimetre of her was girl.

She sat with her back to the glass window of a shop built at the back of the station platform to sell Chinese-style food to would-be passengers as they awaited their trains. The glass front of this shop came down to a stone step, and on that stone step she squatted on her toes in her six-inch heeled shoes, with her legs tucked up and with her back to the window. And her micro-miniskirt ridden completely off her bare legs and bare thighs.

Her legs were unbelievably beautiful: I just could not keep my eyes from looking at her bare legs and her bare thighs as she squatted with her dainty wrists on her knees, pretty hands gently dangling, unselfconsciously showing the full expanse of her glorious legs and perfect thighs, bare of any cover bar their wonderful soft smooth girlflesh: bare almost down to her bottom.

Then she turned. Her attention caught by movement or a sound I did not catch, she turned and looked past me, and my heart leaped as I saw her face, she was so exceedingly pretty. She had long blonde kinky curled hair and was naturally very pale. She wore no makeup, and her face, her divinely pretty face, with its cool grey innocent eyes, was bespeckled with gorgeous freckles. She was perfect.

A train pulled in on the opposite platform, and the girl driver and the girl coal-stoker caught sight of this exceptional wonderful creature as she squatted, all superb leg and exquisite face, across, directly across from where they waited, sweaty, coal dust caked and weary, as the carriages their steam engine hauled, disgorged old and then loaded fresh passengers.

And the beauty suddenly knew she was being admired and realised, as the driver and coal-stoker lent out of their cab and stared across from the opposite side, just how much incredible girl-leg she was displaying.

But, after an initial blush, the beauty made no move to cover herself, and seemed to pretend she did not know that, from where they were ogling her, the girls driving and firing the engine could even see the gusset of her tight-stretched white panties.

Then the beauty looked around, before looking straight over at her admirers and smiling exquisitely. Then she looked around again, and then looked to one side seeming to pretend she was not doing it on purpose, as she parted her legs a little to show the train crew more white panty and the clear outline in her white panties of her mons veneris and the wonderful lips of her slit.

Suddenly, in my nervousness and guilt at staring at this lovely creature, I was made to jump by the echo of a crate or pallet being dropped somewhere behind me. Then I heard two girls' voices from across on the other platform booing in a light-hearted very appreciative way, followed by loud wolf whistles and applause from them, and I turned to where the girl had been, and the girl was gone.

And I tried to get my mind back on the simple business of getting home, becoming refocused almost immediately by my train drawing in.

I took my usual seat on the half-empty train next a window to watch the world go by, as was my wont on this daily regular journey, putting my handbag and some bagged-up shopping on the empty seat next to me.

Then a sweet voice asked: "May I sit here?"

I looked up and I saw heaven: it was the divine girl: it was the divine girl from the platform.

"Yes, of course" I answered in my outer voice, trying my hardest not to give it away, as inside my head unspoken, with my heart pounding, I was screaming "oh god yes, yes please, oh yes please, please god, please, please!"

"Thank you" she said, not even looking at me as I moved my bags for her.

Then she was lowering herself into the seat. Her divinely slim all-girl body was lowering its sweet scented self to sit next to me. Her delectable firm derriere was filling her micro-skirt as she lowered herself and her skirt rose and rose and rose and rose and rose as my eyes were compelled and compelled and compelled and compelled to watch it slide smoothly up her smooth white bare girl-skin till she was next me and her two heavenly bare thighs were gracing the world with their gorgeous beauty.

"Ehem" she coughed a little self-conscious cough, and I looked up to see that she was looking at me and blushing very deeply red, as if to beg that I not stare at her so.

I was suddenly overcome with shame that I had been so transfixed by her, and fought for the rest of the journey not to look at her. But I could not help but adore her freckled face and always moist and shiny lips, as she turned to look out of the window I looked out of too. Nor when I turned to see her pale freckled loveliness could I help but adore her stunning grey eyes.

My mind raced. What was she? This angel from highest heaven: what was she? She was seventeen or thereabouts. But she was all girl: fully developed and sexual girl. She must be a schoolgirl. School for girls did not cease till they were eighteen. And then I felt my cunt moisten as I realised that she must also be an intact virgin. Under the girl-laws of the 2020s, any girl who had any form of sex before she was eighteen was, unless it was rape, put in prison, after having her clitoris surgically removed and their cunt infibulated. So this girl, who was clearly free and really and unbelievably right here beside me, right here in the world of ordinary mortals, must be an intact virgin.

As we approached my station she rose, and her divine face was seemingly purposely thrust close to mine, and I turned to look into her kaleidoscopically mesmeric grey eyes, as she held her angel's face too close to mine for seeming necessity, purposely to attract and haunt me with her beauty I thought, and merely said a totally unnecessary, "Thank you miss" in reference to the seat.

Then the angel was standing, turning her back to me as I too rose to follow behind her, knowing I had my eyes immovably riveted to her all feline feminine rear, and her long wonderful legs not least, as she glided before me to the station platform, and then disappeared without once turning to look at me again.

I had to see her again!

I just had to see her again!!

I just had to see this girl again!!

…………

Two evenings went by and nothing.

…………

Then, on the third evening a lovely voice said "Hi" and the angel sat lightly down beside me in a skirt so short that I could clearly see her white panties as it slid right-tight up off her bare thighs, and I turned to see her face even more pale and her eyes ringed under with tiredness, and my heart floated out to her as I realised she was having a heavy and painful period, and I smiled at her to tell her she was even more beautiful though she must feel so wretched, and I all but felt the extra heat of her menstruating body radiating her beauty all around her.

And again, a week later, as my heart raced in hope: "Hi" said a girl's melodious voice as she was sitting beside me once more. Even though half the carriage was empty she sat beside me and her skirt was the one she had worn that showed her panties and her period was clearly over and she smiled as she said her "Hi", and I knew, I just knew I wanted this girl.

As she sat I looked at her thighs and she turned to smile at me.

As she turned to smile, I looked at her pale freckled lovely schoolgirl's face, framed by her naturally curled and kinked blonde hair, and at her cool grey smiling eyes, and as I looked at her eyes she looked down at her thighs as if guiding me.

But I dare not touch her.

Then she put her own slim long graceful-fingered and wonderfully soft and femininely pretty hand on her thigh and ran it up toward her panties, pouting her delectable extremely kissable ever-moist and shiny lips and blowing her blonde fringe to cool her face, saying "Gosh it's so hot!" as she stretched her arms high and thus lifted herself off the seat. And the hem of her skirt came right off her panties as she slid down in the seat again, right off her panties so that I could see her moist wanton-wanting-whetted and wetted sweet-sweaty slit.

But I dare not touch her. I was millimetres from her beautiful bare legs, but I dare not touch her.

She tutted and sighed as if to make clear that she had been inviting me, but I dare not touch her.

…………..

I did not see her for several days.

Then she was on the platform: one Friday evening she was on the platform. She wore a long skirt in cool flower-print-on-yellow cotton, down to her ankles. Her very firm schoolgirl breasts divinely filled her matching tight top, above the elasticated waistband of the skirt and the flat bare belly she displayed between skirt and top.

Her bare midriff could not help but show how incredibly gloriously slim this girl was. And I found myself wondering if she was wearing a brassiere. She had no need whatsoever for a brassiere, she was so very firm in her youthful virginal schoolgirlness, she had no need whatsoever for a brassiere.

She noticed me, and her eyes lit up like heaven as she shyly whispered "Hi"

"Hello" I found myself at long last daring to say.

"You look very pretty" I blurted out.

"Oh!. ……Thank you!" she answered, blushing deep red, as she hung her head and turned away to hide that I had hit the right note with her, before turning to look at me, her eyes aglow with extreme supreme girlness.

There was a silence. Here was I a grown woman reduced to complete tongue-tied silence by this literally breathtaking teenage all-girl girl.

"May I know your name?" I asked shyly.

"Angelin" she answered daintying a little closer to me, still on earth from the heaven in which she must surely dwell.

Standing, allowing for her six-inch heeled shoes, she was five-feet five of glorious slim schoolgirl angel, her kinky curly blonde hair down beyond the middle of her firm tight very curvy bottom hemispheres.

"That's a lovely and unusual name. I'm Katrina by the way"

"Hi Katrina" Angelin smiled, and the world glowed with new hope and optimism born of the presence of such wonderful wonderful girlness in it.

"Still at school Angelin?" I asked, it being the question long since at the forefront of my mind, and because she made me so shy I could think of no other to ask her.

"Fraid so. It's so boring! I'm at Saint Innocent's," she answered, her pretty brow furrowing kissably as she spoke with a smile and almost a giggle in her voice.

Our train drew into the platform and wolf whistles greeted the sight of Angelin, as indeed they always must for this was a girl who was the apotheosis of girl.

To my surprise, Angelin seemed upset by the girls wolf-whistling her from the engine cab as they drove the steam engine in.

"May I sit next to you Katrina?"

"You don't need to ask sweetheart", I assured her.

Angelin was now a different girl on our hour-long journey back to London. She was the same girl, but she chatted away about her friends at school, her friends at home, how she loved keep-fit and skating, how she thought boys were stupid, and how one day she hoped to meet the right girl and marry her.

Somehow too, she seemed more distant from me, and I began to wonder if she had really been giving the girls on the train, over on the other platform when I had first seen her, the come-on, let alone me when she had all but brushed my face with hers as she had thanked me for the seat next to me. She seemed so innocent and vulnerable and touchingly naïf.

"Bye-bye Katrina!" she waved a pretty hand as we parted.

But oh the next night on the train station platform. How can or will I ever forget the next night on the train station platform?!. There she was again in something much much less than a micro-miniskirt squatting as I had first seen her, her legs completely bare and her skirt ridden up so far of her bare thighs as to show their full wonderful massively gloriously beautifully smooth nude-firm-girlshape-fleshed expanse.

As she stood to greet me, I saw that her skirt was so short that the taut crotch of her tight white panties was clearly visible, as was the divine heaven of her slit with its full twin lips clearly outlined by the tensed material to show that there could be absolutely no doubt whatsoever that she was a girl.

And the top she wore! A crop-top sleeveless vest that barely covered her heavenly breasts, self evidently naked beneath the slim thin nearly translucent white material, which her pert nipples poked out provocatively pointing, pure schoolgirl virgin firm. And her waist was so slim and her buttocks so full yet proportionate, solid and alluringly undulating as she walked in her six-inch heeled sandals.

Her hair tumbled, a wildly kinky curly blonde cascade of conspicuous corn-gold-wonder rippling down her back to below her bottom. And her pale freckled face, wore no makeup; as she needed no makeup she was by nature and heaven's blessings both, so perfectly naturally beautiful.

And I wanted her. I had to have her. I needed her. I adored her. I was astonished and astounded by my lust and love for this outstandingly wonderful angelic virgin schoolgirl, and my voice almost trembled as I returned Angelin's innocent "Hi".

And we sat side by side once more on the train. And Angelin told me of her day and how Friday was dressing-down day at Saint Innocent's School, but she preferred to wear the school's summer uniform, which was what she was wearing.

And I could not keep my eyes of her thighs. I could not tear my eyes from Angelin's naked thighs. Their enormous wonder filled by vision and their strong beauty took my breath away. Surely I must make my move. Surely she was enticing me. Surely she had been giving me the come-on dressing like this. Sure, she was just a girl being a girl and enjoying displaying her god given wonder to the world. But surely also as she had squatted flashing her panties to the engine driver and her companion when I had first seen her displaying her legs, her lovely legs totally bare for the universe to adore and worship, she was showing her availability and her need to be girl.

And Angelin seemed to move to cross her right leg over her left. Angelin seemed to about to cross her right thigh over her left. And I watched compelled to watch as Angelin lifted and shaped her right leg seeming to lift it to cross her totally bare right thigh over her totally bare left, and I reached my hand to touch the delectable wonder of her compelling beautiful and erotic body: her thigh, to touch her right thigh, to touch wonder, to touch beauty, to touch majesty, to touch magic, to touch heaven, to touch her erotic erogenous thigh, to touch girlthigh, to touch girl…

"No!!" Angelin shouted. "Get off me!! Get off me!! Get off me!! No!!!"

"Oh please Angelin!" I begged. I had not in fact touched her, but she was up and out of her seat and pointing at me accusingly.

"Oh please Angelin!" I begged.

And the conductor was called, and my name taken, and GirlContol radioed to meet the train and take me into custody at the next station: my home station.

"Oh please Angelin!"………….