Peach

Peach

This story is a bit heavier than most of my offerings and has been inspired by the following tales:

Bosom by Unknown Author on the Benfanstorybox Yahoo! Group

The Ivanovs by Tangent Scribe

66_6-hot-girls-in-tight-leggings

Doing the deal

David Hemingway was impressed as he was shown into the house by a smartly-attired Filipino servant. This guy had money, serious money, and so not only could this contract be potentially lucrative but, if the customer ended up satisfied, then well, who knows if he has any friends who might want more of the same…?

He was shown into a large sitting room where a young Arab man dressed in an immaculate white thobe got up and greeted him before gesturing for him to sit. After the obligatory salutations and tea, they got down to business.

My friend in America whom I do business with, Kevork Manuelyan, he recommends you very highly and says that you can help me.”

I understand that you’ve had women troubles?”

More than troubles Mr. Hemingway, more than troubles.”

Please elaborate Mr. bin Yusuf and also, please, call me Dave.”

Thank you kindly, Dave. Well, it is my latest wife. I have just divorced her, she was having an affair with a gardener and this destroyed my honour, although the gardener is now in gaol for thieving; I shall make sure his hand is chopped off. However, that is not the problem, the problem is that this is the third wife who has either left me or who I have had to divorce. I am a liberal man for a Saudi and so I give them freedom but all they do is mock me and insult me. They are after my money, that is all and so I have no faith or confidence left in any women now, yet also I cannot live without them as, well… you are a man, you know what it is like, I love being with women!”

What do you most like about a woman?”

Oh, I don’t know, the warmth of her smile, the depth of her heart…”

Please sir, if I am to help you, I need you to be serious, talking truly, not from a bad poetry book or boy band song. What is it that you most miss about a woman now that your latest wife has left you?”

Well, to be honest her body, I like the smooth feel of her body, to lie next to her and…”

I need specifics, sir, what part of the body? The breasts for example?”

The breasts are nice but no, to be honest what I love the most, what drives me absolutely wild when I see it in the bedroom – or when walking along the beach in California when I’m there on business – is the bottom, I love what the Americans call a butt, the round firm cheeks and…”

You’re a butt man then, ok, I can deal with that. Has a butt ever dumped you or two timed you?”

Well of course not, but the woman attached to the butt…”

Then detach sir, detach! What if I could present you with a perfect female bottom as a wife, the absolute epitome of everything you desire in a woman that will never nag, dump or humiliate you. Could that be a solution to your woes?”

Mr. Hemingway, that could be a ticket to Paradise itself! To think, a butt to play with, the carress, to smack, to spear. Ahh, those are heavenly thoughts!”

And they could also become a reality, but in order to do that, I need some particulars off you. I need to know about colour and shape. What kind of butts do you like?”

Well, to be honest I prefer Western women, maybe a little tanned like an Arab though, not too pale, although if she were a Muslim girl then…”

You may rest assured sir, that she will not be Muslim.”

Oh, I see. Well then, yes, I like Western but I also like curvy, like an Arab or a Latino girl, like that Shakira or Jennifer Lopez say on the TV.”

Hmm, I see. Now, let me look.” Hemingway dived into his bag, rummaged around a file and then produced a large colour photograph of a female behind covered by skintight jeans. Like that?”

Oh yes Sir, that is it! That is my wife!”

Yes sir, that is your new wife, even if she does not know it yet. Her name is Peach which in Arabic is Qard.” And with those words he smiled a secret smile. For Hemingway knew only too well the woman to whom that magnificent bottom belonged and what is more, her name was not Peach or Qard.

Well, not yet.

Dave Hemingway had first met Chelsea Staples on the Greek holiday island of Kos. She’d been nothing then, just a girl from a provincial town having fun out in Greece working in a bar. He’d been a lot more naïve then, but whilst she’d been nothing, she had certainly not been naïve. They’d got together and before he knew it, he was paying for her designer clothes, had set her up in a flat in London’s Docklands and was introducing her to the capital’s high society. Shit, he even paid for her breasts to be improved and what thanks did he get? Only to get home one night and find her gone. He later learnt that she’d hooked up with a fashion designer who she then married before divorcing him a year later, several million better off. She was nothing more than a cheap slut, a gold digger and Dave was angry at himself for falling for such a nonentity. Anger however, was not enough for Dave; he needed revenge, so he’d kept an eye on her goings on and knew full well that she now spent most of her time on the South Coast of France leeching off wealthy yacht owners. Soon, however, she would be leeching no more.

After closing the deal with bin Yusuf, Dave jetted off to Monte Carlo where he installed himself in a flat and checked out the lie of the land. He discovered Chelsea’s regular haunts and learnt that her current beau was a seventy year-old property magnate from Mexico who had a yacht moored off Cannes. Obviously true love that one.

Always anxious to distance himself from these dealings, he contacted an old client in the area who he knew had a yacht. Yiannis Hatsiastros was only too happy to help and so one evening, when a handsome young Greek man, (not Yiannis of course, but a nephew), sidled up to her and offered to take her back to his 100m yacht and mentioned his $1 billion fortune, he was not surprised when she accepted the offer.

And once on board it was the easiest thing in the world for the butler, (whom, if she’d been paying attention, was actually a guy that she’d once begun an affair with when she was a humble bar girl on Kos), to serve her a cocktail that was spiked with a very heavy dose of sleeping pills.

And the rest is, as they say, history.

Wakey! Wakey!

Chelsea woke up feeling groggy and aching all over. She wearily opened her eyes and immediately realised that something wasn’t right. She could see out of them but what she saw did not make sense.

She was lying down, that she knew because, well, you know when you’re lying down don’t you. Yet the image before her eyes which was of a small square room with white walls, was viewed from a very high vantage point, obviously from a standing position, or more likely standing on top of a ladder. The room that she viewed was completely empty and featureless, except for a closed door on one side. However, what was stranger was that the image, which was not her full vision but instead a small square directly in front of her eyes, did not seem to be real, it was second-hand somehow, like watching the TV.

Confused she sat up. Or at least she tried to. But her arms wouldn’t respond and so she merely jerked a bit. What was even more curious though was that her view did not move an iota. It stayed still and motionless, more like that of a camera than a real person. Undeterred, she tried again and found that she could right herself by slipping her legs off the bed upon which she had been lying and standing up. Still the view did not change and still her arms did not respond, almost as if they weren’t there. Where was she? What on earth was happening?

She took a couple of steps and something happened. A woman entered her field of view, or at least, she assumed it to be a woman, although she could be far from sure as whoever it was completely covered in the black veils of an Arab woman. From head to toe she was draped in thick black cloth, like a featureless cone of material. This cone stopped and just stood there, not looking at her – the woman seemed not to have even noticed her presence – but instead blankly at the wall. Chelsea took a few steps forward to meet her and the woman started walking but again, bizaarely, Chelsea’s viewpoint didn’t move a millimetre. Nonetheless, she carried on walking and so did the veiled woman. She walked straight into the wall and as she did Chelsea felt an obstacle blocking her way and almost knocking her to the floor.

It was then that she realised that she was the woman in the picture.

Closing her eyes – as she found this easier than having to rely on the disorientating image in front of them – she made her way back to the bed and sat down on it. What on earth was happening to her? Was this real or just a surreal nightmare. No, it was real, she knew that, but that was about all that she knew.

Mentally she listed the facts:

  • She was now a heavily-veiled woman in a white room.

  • Her arms didn’t seem to work.

  • Nor too did her eyes. Or at least, she could see with them but not sight, instead what appeared to be the view of a camera high on the wall above her.

That was all pretty weird and bad, but by now she was beginning to realise that other things had changed too. The initial shock of her sight changes and loss of arms were receding and some other sensations were becoming apparent. The main one of these was that there was something up with her mouth. She tried to speak and could not. In fact, she couldn’t even open it. It was as if there was something in there. In fact, there was something in there and whatever it was, it extended not only into her mouth but down her throat, like a feeding tube for some unconscious patient. That thought actually reassured her for a second, after all she had blacked out and woken up in a white room with a feeding tube; she’d obviously been in some kind of accident and was now in hospital. But then she stopped herself and remembered that she was veiled like a Muslim lady and viewing life through a camera perched high on the wall. No, that was not normal for a hospital; there was nothing to be reassured about.

She began to concentrate on other areas of her body now and realised that there were other worrying changes as well. Her legs seemed to be ok, although they were covered in some sort of tight coating that felt like latex or rubber or something, but above them, well, her private areas felt kind of weird whilst her butt, well… that felt somehow full like there was something in it… OMG, there IS something in it! And above her bum, well, apart from her arms, that felt kind of normal except that it all felt enclosed somehow, like she was covered somehow. She remembered when she bumped into the wall and it hadn’t hurt, it had been very second-hand almost, cushioned. Oh yes, and there was something else too, everything was quiet. And I mean deathly quiet, like no sound whatsoever. That was weird! What the fuck was happening?

Chelsea got up again and slowly walked around the room using the camera view in front of her eyes to navigate. It was weird trying to link her direct movements with a second-hand camera view but she started to do it. However, whilst that eased things a little, her other fears increased: as she walked she could hear no sound whatsoever, even when she stopped and stamped her foot on the floor. Surely that must produce some sound, but no, nothing. Suddenly she slammed herself into the wall again. That proved two things. Firstly, she had no hearing for even that produced not the slightest sound and secondly that her upper body was covered in something, like it was inside a barrel or something, which explained the blindness and lack of arm movement but was hardly reassuring; after all, why would someone encase your upper body in a barrel? Confused she returned to the bed and sat down to think.

How long she sat there she could not say for there was no way of measuring time in that surreal place but after what could have been hours or just minutes, something happened: the camera image of the empty room suddenly switched off and instead a large picture of a female butt appeared before her eyes instead. Shocked, she sat up and then, to compound the shock even further, she heard a voice:

Time for your meal Miss Qard.”

The voice was that of a woman, a foreign woman with a strong accent. She felt the layers of cloth that covered her being lifted and someone fiddling around in front of her. In frantic desperation she started shifting her position, wiggling around as this was the only means of communication that she had. It had its intended effect, or almost: more human interaction.

Stop moving Miss Qard, it will affect your feeding. I don’t want to have to strap you down!”

Eager to please this, the only other human in her life, she stilled herself. What would happen with the meal. Would her covering be taken off and she be allowed to see the world and feed herself. Then a strange vibration began, like a machine being started and she felt the tube in her throat move. Something was being passed through it but she couldn’t taste it. However, she did start feeling her stomach fill up. Then, as soon as it had started, the vibrating stopped and she felt the covers being replaced.

I’ll see you again for dinner Miss Qard,” said the voice before all went quiet again. Then the camera recording of the room replaced the large female bottom that she’d been treated to. She was alone again.

What in the world was happening?

Chelsea waited for another indeterminate amount of time and then something else unexpected happened. A voice was heard in her ear, this time a male voice. “Qard, leave the room, walk down the corridor and then turn right,” he said. And as he spoke, the door to the room slid open. Chelsea sat there for a moment, confused. That voice, somehow it seemed familiar and yet she couldn’t place whose it was. Still, this was surely a chance to find out a little of what had happened. She got up and walked out of the room.

The moment that she left the small white room the view before her eyes changed to one of a long corridor with a veiled figure at the far end. She walked forwards and the veiled figure got nearer until, just under the camera, she turned right. Then the image changed again and she saw a large room, opulently furnished in an Arabic fashion with the same veiled figure in the doorway and a man standing in its centre with his back to the camera.

Qard, welcome, please come in!”

She walked into the centre of the room and then stopped. That voice was familiar.

You’re probably wondering what on earth has happened to you? Why do you see through wall-mounted CCTV camera, why don’t your arms work and why am I calling you Qard? Well, I am here to answer those questions. For starters, we are in Saudi Arabia and I am your guardian here, or at least, I shall be for an hour or so before I pass you on to your new husband with whom I signed the documents for my ward Qard to be married only this morning. Qard, by the way, means ‘peach’ in Arabic and it is your new name. Now I appreciate that you probably still think of yourself as Chelsea, but do not, for Chelsea is dead, I saw it reported in the Telegraph only last week. Everyone things that she was drowned in a terrible accident whilst getting drunk on a yacht in Cannes. Yes, the yacht in Cannes, do you remember that? Maybe. Anyway, Chelsea is dead now. After she was drugged on that yacht , she was taken to a very special installation that I run and reprocessed into Qard for the benefit of her new husband. You see, he is a good man but like so many good men, he keeps getting let down by bad women, cheating on him, gold-diggers, basically whores like Chelsea was. So I promised him the perfect woman, a woman that can do none of those things because she is reduced to the bare essentials of what a female is. Yes, your new husband is what we blokes term a ‘butt man’ and you my dear, have one of the finest bottoms that I’ve ever seen. So, when I needed a bum of bums then where else should I look, and besides, I owed you one. So, Chelsea has been reprocessed into Qard or Peach, for a peach is all that she is now. You are a butt and legs, nothing else. Your reprocessing was severe. Your arms were amputated at the shoulders and your vocal chords cut. All your body hair was removed by laser and then you entire upper body was enclosed in a survival capsule. Look!”

And then, on the screen before her eyes, the man walked forward and lifted the veils off the figure before him. What was revealed was unbelievable, terrifying: A beautiful pair of black-clad female legs ending in a pair of large buttocks supported a featureless black ovoid that started at the waist and ended where the head should be. It was made of blank black plastic and the only opening was a small hole near to where the mouth should be. Chelsea staggered back when she saw herself and the man grabbed hold of her to steady her, squeezing one of her buttocks as he did.

The hole is for feeding as you’ve already discovered,” he explained. “You’ll never taste food again, your nutrition just goes straight into your stomach. Nor too will you ever experience the toilet. Every morning and evening you shall be flushed out by your maid, before having an extensive facial massage. By facial I mean bottom. Your bum is now your face, in fact it is your whole being, and so we can’t have it looking bad now, can we? And that is it; you shall be flushed out, then exercised and after that, you can relax as you have done today, until your husband decides to use you for his pleasure. However, here I must warn you, never in the conventional way. We’ve had your clitoris and your vagina removed saved for a small hole for the wastes. As I said, you’re a bottom now, nothing more and that is how you shall interact with the world, no other way. To the outside world you shall always be silent and covered in veils so they’ll just think that you’re a heavily-veiled Muslim woman living in strict purdah. Only your husband and maid will know otherwise.

Which brings me onto another thing: you’ll never see your maid or indeed any other human being save for your husband and, for the few hours whilst I am your guardian, me. Whenever another human being comes within five metres of you, your view shall switch to the beautiful photograph of your bottom face which you doubtless enjoyed when your maid came. It’s an incredible photo isn’t it, I chose it myself from the hundreds that were taken whilst you were unconscious, and seeing it like that will help enforce that that is your identity these days. But, that is that and now it is time to present you to your husband. But before I do, in case you haven’t realised who I am, I shall let you see my face before I press the button on your remote control which transfers ownership of you over to your husband. So, did you guess?”

And with those words, the man turned round and faced the camera and with a gasp of horror – if she had still had the ability to gasp – Chelsea saw the half-crazed grin of David Hemingway before that view faded into the photo of her large, naked butt.

2 years later…

The image of her beautiful face faded away and Qard saw the camera view that was so familiar to her. It was of a large, expensively-furnished bedroom with a huge bed in the centre. And knelt on that bed was a strange creature, half human, half machine. The top half, a curious black ovoid, but the bottom, a glorious pair of female legs terminating in a large, juicy peach which presented itself for approval. And that approval would soon be coming; this is what Qard did everyday at this time and everyday at this time her husband came and took her. She looked forward to it immensely when he rammed his penis into her waiting mouth which had been stretched ready to accommodate him. This was the only skin-to-skin contact that she had, the only interaction with a human being and she craved it, thinking only of it during those long hours as she exercised, sat in a room with other veiled purdah women who did not know of her real status, and waited for it to happen. And after all, why should she not look forward to be anally taken, was it not her whole purpose in life. And afterwards too, when he lay down to sleep and snuggled his face next to hers, using her large cheeks as a pillow upon which he nestled himself and drifted off to sleep. Could any marriage be happier?

Qard hardly ever thinks about the days when she was Chelsea now; her tortured mind has blanked them out. In fact, she can hardly imagine being a human being at all; instead she has become a bottom and nothing more, living to be firm, round and juicy and thus pleasurable to the man who looks after her and provides her with the intimacy that she so craves. On isolated occasions she recalls how horrified she was when he approached her on that first night and thrust his member into her mouth, how violated and mastered she’d felt. But these days she cannot hold those thoughts for long for they do not even make sense to her anymore.

She is shaken from her reverie by the door opening and a naked figure entering the room. It is her husband. She wiggles her face in anticipation.

peach ks peach sador

I am honoured that this story inspired two pieces of artwork (above). They are by KS and Sador respectively. Please check out their stuff on the Yahoo! Groups Benfanstorybox.

A Contract with Many Appendices

There’s a new Dave Potter story on Tales of the Veils; check it out!

A Contract with Many Appendices

Part I

She shut her eyes and then opened them again. Not that it made any difference of course. She was encased in her sleeping sack, the ridiculous bag that they forced her to wear every night in bed, so as to keep modest and pure, and so from the moment that she was zipped in by her maid until the moment when she was released, her world was devoid of any light and most of its sound too. She existed in a vacuum, a non-place separated from the rest of the world by an impenetrable wall of cloth. Read on…

The Corsetmaker’s Daughter

This story was absent from the internet when I listed it on my compilation of all-time favourite erotica. Thanks to Nye North for sending me this copy and all credit to Querthe for writing it, it is his work after all. My only hope is that one day, he finishes it… please!

DP

The Corsetmaker’s Daughter

by Querthe

Chapter One

It was only a matter of discipline. It had been since the beginning, and it would be till the end.
He smiled. He strived to achieve perfection.
The perfect family.
The perfect daughter.
The perfect body.
He and his wife created perfection.
But they couldn’t show it to the world. Not yet. Not entirely.
They could show their daughter, they could be proud of her, proud of her aspect, her mind, her ideas, but their daughter was not complete. She was missing something. She was like a jewel, a precious necklace that couldn’t show the beauty it has due to the lack of a good background. He’d finally found the right background. He’d found just in that moment. He had the skills to do it, to create it, but he found that there was another problem. He was right, but the entire world was wrong. It was still not prepared.
He sighed, a little hint of sadness on his eyes. He looked outside. The last rays of the sun were a coloring of orange and violet the white room that was his studio, his laboratory, his shrine, the relic of his life hidden beneath a big white cotton sheet. A knock on the door let him jump.
“Yes?”
“Can I enter, dear?” his wife asked, her voice muffled by the heavy wood wall separating her from him, but also from something more, as she was not perfectly able to formulate words. “I was wondering if you…”
“Yes, my love. I’ve already finished it. I’m sorry I didn’t call you before, but my mind wandered and… Well, I found the solution.”
“Wonderful” she replied, turning the long door knob and entering slowly, closing the door behind her.
She was in her late forties, her long brown hair combed in two big braids then tied one inside the other and fixed with jewels, leaving some hair free to cover her ears, where long and golden earrings, hanging down to brush her shoulders, filled the holes in her ears. She moved near her husband, her stride slow and heavy as she was shuffling instead of walking. Her head was erect, a little too much for a normal position of the neck, but he knew that she was used to it and if without her neck support she was in considerable pain due to the lack of strength in her neck muscles after such a length of time using it. At the moment her head was held erect by a stiff collar in leather and suede, quite old and badly worn through age, a relic of her first year’s as a corset maker’s wife. Happy years.
“May Hue remembered where it was? Incredible.”
“Yes. She is incredible, but I can’t expect less from a maid that is smart enough to work for you as assistant, nurse and helper. She found it immediately and helped me to wrap it around my neck. She was not sure if I could bear this lack of discipline, but I have to admit that it is also quite refreshing to be able to see directly in front of me, I’m in some way missing my eyeglasses. What was the problem?”
“Too much use and too few stays.” he told his wife. “Now I’ve double boned it, and due to the fact I had to change the leather anyway, I elongated it another quarter of inch. Do you want to try it? Do you have your glasses with you?”
“No. But they are in the other room, so if after you could lead me…” she smiled with some difficulty, the high neck of the dress, made in deep blue velvet, covering the stiff collar, continuing over her heavily corseted torso, going down to her ankles as a bell, with several petticoats starched and white as the snow, hiding the small leather paraphernalia that was impeding her from separating her feet more than ten inches, the five inches high heeled calf-high boots made in patent leather and slightly boned to help her to hold her feet in that strenuous position, adding to her difficulty. The sleeves, tight from wrists to elbows, puffed out in small balloons up to the shoulders, covering the black silk opera gloves that were hiding the excruciating tight kid leather gloves that ended just above her elbows, brushing with their hot caress the shoulders, the triple layer removing from her the freedom to bend her arms enough also to scratch her nose or touch her chest, not speaking of the difficulty of bending the fingers. “I will be really grateful tonight.”
“Sonia!” he said, a smile crossing his face as he shook his head. “I will help you for sure. Here, come here, my dear…” he giggled, grabbing from one of his tables a dark and shiny object, a sort of cylinder with a dark brown lace on the side. She arrived to stand near him. They exchanged a simple, quick kiss then he proceeded to unhook some of the buttons at her neck, to be able to see the stiff neck corset she wore underneath the dress. “Really I created this? How horrible is…” he smirked.
“It’s not horrible. It’s a sort of prototype for your wonderful neck collar. Now, come on and let your wife be proud of you.” she mumbled.
“Your last words?”
“More or less” she smiled, sighing half in relief, half in pain when he unlaced the collar and freed her neck. It seemed so thin, so soft and white.
The muscles, having been held inactive for long periods, were a little atrophied, but she was still able to hold her head erect some minutes before her neck started to ache. “A quarter of an inch longer you said?”
“Yes, my love” he answered while wrapping the cold and rigid object around the neck of his wife.
She knew what it was. She asked for it after she saw it in the fashion magazine she bought each week a sort of ‘neck-stretcher’, designed to render the figure more feminine and elegant. But the equipment was bulky and made in metal and brass. She asked for something that could do the same, not only during the night, but, at all times, while she was dressed, while she was walking and when she was sleeping. Her husband thought about it and did some experiments until he arrived at the right dimensions and the right way to position the stays. He started to build some of them and quickly found a lot of buyers, and so he sold the idea and the equipment construction instructions to a big company that every month was paid him for the rights of the idea, and not only for that. Half of the equipment currently being sold regarding stays and corset arrived from him.
However the real projects, the neck stretcher, neck corset and so on he kept for himself and his family. He had sold the project with some modifications, some little changes that were not so important for the aspect or the cost, but really important under the aspect of endurance and strictness. In fact if the normal neck corset were bearable for only part of the day, maybe ten, maybe twelve hours for the bravest, the ones he created for his wife and his daughter were made to be worn for days and days without any reason to be removed except for hygienic purposes.
“Its… quite… rrrigggd!” she said, adjusting her head to the rigid and arrogant pose now required of her, nose quite vertical, her eyes looking at the ceiling. All of her neck, part of the chin and up to her ears was cupped, sealed and constricted inside the black column, stretching and reducing little by little the diameter of her neck, while at the same time it was reducing any possibility of turning her head, her breathe reduced to short, sharp gasps. When he’d finished tying the laces, he did a double knot and closed the neck corset using several small buckles and a leather flap to cover the lace and give at the whole paraphernalia a tidy and apparently seamless aspect.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Grrrrt” she mumbled, the strictness and the tightness of the object removing her ability to speak clearly. “It qqute hard t brrreth…”
“I know, but I think you will be able to bear the new strain on your neck. Dear, the effect is wonderful. You seem… No, you are a queen. If you like the effect, I think that I can try my last idea.”
“ Whhat?”
“Well, if I substitute part of the leather with rubber and some of the stays with a compressed plated spring, I can create a neck corset that can be regulated in height only winding or unwinding a key in a special slot at the base of it, so you can have infinite possibilities. At the same time it will be possible to release part of the neck corset to permit you to eat more easily and talk with more freedom. But I have still to work on that idea.” he sighed.
“No pprhhhbbem. Taaakke it hhhesy. Thhnnks…” she mumbled. “You akkkhhedy did a hooot fohh me and Samanthha.”
“Can I lead you to the glasses, so you can continue your day?”
“Thhhnkss”

She tried to smile, managing only a hint, her teeth completely clenched, the jaws locked. He grabbed her rigid and quite useless gloved hand and moved her to the door then on into the small room next door where on a desk were her glasses, special ones. They seemed simply a pair of round tinted glasses with a long and tiny rod on the left side, but in reality they were small mirrors, to permit her to see the world around her, even if in reverse. He took her hand and moved the fingers of his wife around the preciously made rod, so she could adjust the exact distance from her eyes and the angle needed. She trembled slightly at the warm touch of her husband, one of the few sensations she could feel through the double layer of silk and leather. He sensed it and hugged her fingers, his and her hand encircling the rod of the glasses. She forced her neck down a fraction of an inch, enough to let her eyes meet for a second his, giving him another ‘half smile’. He blushed and smiled also, then he took the glasses, put them on the desk and caressed both his wife hands, kissing them, finger by finger, where the nails were showing through the silk and the excruciating tight leather, each subtle touch of his lips a small bolt of energy directed to her crotch. He finished, repositioned the glasses in her hand and helped her to fit them in the right position.
“Dddeearhh…” she murmured, short of breath and blushing heavily. “You kknow whhhat it meanssh fohh me youhh touch.”
He smiled, trying to appear indifferent.
“Can you see around?”
“Yss, thnnk. Bbbbt I think we ccclld ajjust it ssmmway.”
“Yes, was thinking the same. But maybe I’ve already arrived at a solution. I will try it with Samantha, and if it will work, I can do something similar for you also.”
“Gggddd. Sss uuu lllatr”
“See you later, my love. And later tonight.”
He blushed again as his wife said “Looovhhhe”
“Eh, eh, eh!!! Ah. Where is our star?”
“Gggrrdenn” she gurgled starting to shuffle slowly down the corridor. “Whhht Mmme Huue.”
He smiled, sighed and closed his eyes a little.
“Good, let’s take a little rest from work at the moment. I want to see how Samantha is then I can start again. I want to tell her again how much I love her.” he thought. “And check if her laces are still tight enough. May Hue is sometimes much too soft with her.”
He started to move through the corridors of his mansion, one of the few in the area that were not owned by rich nobles. He gained his position with sweat and sacrifices along with a good dose of luck. He found the right occasion to buy a mansion, with a big green area around, enough to maintain a small stable with horses, a big greenhouse and a small house for the people that maintained the mansion and the terrain, also cultivating it for some fresh fruit and vegetables. The garden was the private one, a small and cozy place created exclusively for his two girls, where they could enjoy the weather and their spare time in complete privacy. It was adorned with exotic plants and flowers. To permit them to walk surely with the unsteady shoes they wore during the day, the paths were not made with small gravel but with perfectly smooth and accurately laid plates of granite. Everything there was done for them. Everything was done exclusively for her, Samantha, his star and his dream on the Earth. He opened the door, looking at the garden already in shadow, the sun already having disappeared below the level of the high wall that encircled the terrain. He immediately recognized the Chinese maid, and so he understood that the figure at her side, half lying, half seated, was his daughter.
“Good evening, my beloved Samantha.” he said, smiling.
May Hue turned and smiled, rising from the chair she was seated on and moving slowly to her master, the long silk Chinese-style dress in green and gold hobbling her, the short sleeves to show the black and shiny kid leather gloves caressing her arms from fingertips to shoulders. The short slit on the dress was enough to show the small feet trapped inside ankle high heeled boots
 buttoned along the external side with pearl buttons, silver cuffs around the ankles connected one with the other with a subtle chain in the same precious material, adding an unnecessary impediment to her stride, due to the fact that the cut of the dress was tighter that the length of the chain, but she insisted for having that as a sign of her servitude, of bondage. She was a slave when she arrived in England, she was a slave when she was freed by a friend of her actual owner and she continued to consider herself a slave of her master even if he did insist she was a free woman, a free maid. She liked living in that house, she liked being the maid of Miss Samantha a lot, due to the fact that she still did not understand what being a free woman meant, being so handicapped by corsets, gloves and other things.
“Miss Samantha is resting after a small tour of the garden.” she explained in quite perfect English, only a slight accent in her subtle and musical voice. “I insisted she relaxed for some minutes.”
“Under the sun?”
“No, Master. You know I know what to do.”
“Better check…” – he said.
“Yes, master” she smiled bowing a little. She was sure she did all as he requested. She always did something more than what he requested.
He moved along the path from the door to the quite vertical seat his daughter was almost lying on. It was a sort of slightly ‘S’ shaped leather padded board, enough to permit to rest a little even if tightly corseted, but not bent enough to create discomfort in the rigid torso and at the legs under the heavy dress. He was delighted to see that his daughter was dressed in a perfect summer dress he had designed and a crafted tailor had cut and stitched in cotton and veils. Of Samantha there was not a millimeter of skin visible, this being the only way she was permitted to sunbathe. Her legs were hidden under three white cotton petticoats, then the skirt of the dress was covering the petticoats, one tighter than the other, so she was constrained to have her lower limbs straight and one near the other, with no possibility of crossing them. Her feet were enclosed in handmade ankle boots done in fine leather, the high heels obliging them to be quite
‘en Pointe’, only the toes touching the ground. The torso was corseted, an easy four inch reduction achieved by the wearing of a double boned device, rendering her immobile from hip to breast, covered by the warm leather lined with silk. Over this the blue cotton of the dress, continuing over her arms down to the wrists and up to her neck. He knew that it was that way without being able to see it, due to the mantle in heavy black suede that was over her shoulders, brushing the floor and to the various white veils that were fixed to the large hat over her head and in front of her face, disappearing under the quite rigid neck of the mantle.
“How are you, my love?”
“Fine… father…” she said as clearly as she could, the veils moving slightly. Her voice was soft and panting, covered by the various layers that were stealing her also of a lot of oxygen.
“May Hue, is she gagged?”
“No, master. Maybe is the quantity of the veils I put over her face to protect her skin.”
“How many?”
“You have always insisted on no less than four, but I thought that double is a good number.
He smiled, nodding.
“She can look around?”
“Barely Master. Under the veils she is wearing the tinted goggles over her eyes so her wonderful green eyes would not be harmed.”
Another nod.
“Master, as you can understand, she is corseted as you requested when she is alone and during her leisure time, her neck stretched and tight but her head free to move, her arms sheathed by long kid gloves and the sleeves of the dress, but I think…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I think that she is so used to being restrained that maybe this time without any constraint is painful” May Hue told her Master..
“Is she right, my love?”
“Yes… Father”
“Mistress said me, sorry if I speak instead of her, but she remains out of breath quite easily, that when she moved to see the flowers, she tried to see them better, and the loose corset was quite painful, and the fact that her legs were free as her arms…”
“I understand” He nodded then moved to stand in front of Samantha. “So you like the flowers, my love? You know, you are becoming similar to your mother all the time. I obtained her love with a rose, you know?”
She giggled under the veil, more a murmur than a true sound.
“I… like… them… It… seems… they… attract me… Always…” she told him, each word being said with some difficulty and punctuated by a short gasp for air between each.
He nodded again then he touched her dress to brush away a fly. He widened his eyes.
“Thank you my love. I thank you a lot.” he said, grinning happily. “Sorry but I have to leave you. May Hue, it’s almost dinner time. You have an hour to change her. Lead your mistress to her room and prepare her for the occasion. Nothing too complicated, it’s not a formal event.
“Yes, master.”

She bowed then gently took hold of the gloved hand of Samantha and started to move the practically blind girl inside.

Chapter Two

May Hue, we’ve finished dinner. Please escort Samantha to the library, then prepare the coffee and serve it to us. I want to check my wife’s collar and corset before moving to the library also.”

Yes master.”

She bowed, standing on the left side of the young girl, the pale skin perfectly matching the blonde, almost white hair, combed in an elaborate hairstyle similar to a strange pyramid decorated with jewels, ribbons and false flowers that the Chinese maid added to the incredibly long hair of her mistress.

Samantha?”

Yes, father” she smiled, her long neck stretched by a neck corset similar to her mother’s, but not designed in the same way to lock her face looking at the ceiling and obliging her to use the special lenses.

She was puffing, her breath shallow, each breath an effort. But she was used to that. She was used to being dressed in this manner for as long as she could remember. And in some ways she liked it. She was sure that all those efforts she was bearing were for her good, considering also the looks of envy from the other girls and the strange looks from the men when she was out. Or at least if she had to believe to what May Hue said to her, because she was always blinded in public.

Do you think we can improve your beauty further? Consider my love. It would mean some more bravery on your part, and some more effort to create it for you from my side.

The daughter smiled as an affirmative answer.

You have some more ideas?” his wife asked, as she had the time to find a way to talk normally.

Frankly, I have found the perfection, but I was not able to display it to the world.” he answered sadly. “Until today” he replied, laughing slightly.

You finished…” – the mother asked as she gasped for air “. . . the project?”

Yesss” he nodded smiling, while the Chinese maid helped Samantha to stand up and move towards the library, her stride reduced by the incredible quantity of petticoats and by the tight hobbling underwear she was trapped in.

May Hue, please, I would like to hear what my father is saying.”

I’m sorry, my lady, but the orders of your father are more important than yours, and he said me to lead you to the library. The fact you objected to his orders will be punished.”

I know, May Hue, but…” she sighed then she towards her father. “Father?”

You know that she is right, my dear.”

Yes, father. May Hue, please proceed.”

Yes, my lady” the maid said, searching for a second in her pockets, then extracting a small bundle of black silk inside of which there was a leather ring plug gag with a short silver chain attaching the plug to the left strap and a small lock, in silver too. “Open wide.”

Ah, this gag. So good for girls that speak too much but they have just finished eating” said the mother. “Do as May Hue asks and open wide my love.”

Yes mom” mumbled Samantha, permitting the maid to fix the hard leather ring inside her mouth, behind her pearl white teeth.

The maid fixed the straps a notch tighter than necessary, distorting the girl’s cheeks, closing the straps with the lock.

Good, May Hue. Leave the plug that normally goes in the ring to avoid the drooling dangling, so my love will have no problems if her stomach refuses the quantity of food she ingested.”

Yes, master. Can we go, my lady?”

Samantha nodded as best she could, but before leaving the room, she turned and bowed in her parent’s directions.

Mmmm, mmmghtt…” she mumbled. “Mmmmghtt!” – she tried to say looking at her father, already a small trail of saliva starting to descend from her lips to her chin.

Thank to you, my dear. See you in the library.”

May I say something?”

Yes, Sonia.”

The library is always a little cold at this time and I fear that Samantha could have some problem.”

Mmmmghhtt…Samantha mumbled, miming a sort of ample mantle and trying to push her gloved hands on her face, but without luck due to the tightness of the silk, the leather and the dress sleeves.

The wool trap? Ah, a really good idea, my dear. It will be perfect for you to stay warm, and if you sit near the fireplace, it will be a sort of sweating session that will help you also to digest the meal. It will also help accustom you to learning how you might feel in the future.”

Fhhhture?” she gurgled.

Yes, but let’s leave the explanation for when we are having coffee. May Hue, the library, please.”

Yes Master. As you wish, Master.” she said, bowing and disappearing with her mistress and prisoner.

The maid transported Samantha on the library where a sparkling fire was already and always warming the room. She helped her to sit on a comfy chair and used leather belts to fix the torso and the ankles of the girl to special buckles present on each piece of furniture where a woman can stand near or be seated on.

Mmmghtt!”

Yes mistress, I will be back as quickly as I can.”

Mmmmght! Nnnnghtt!”

Samantha tried to move her head and shake it, but the collar and corset impeded her attempt to do so.

Is something wrong?” May Hue enquired of her charge.

Shhhtrrp!”

Too tight?” she asked anxiously.

Gnoo…”

Oh, Mistress. I’m sorry. I’ll tighten them a notch more.” she said, tightening the straps until the leather was digging into the dress and Samantha’s tender flesh.

Samantha sighed and seemed to be relaxed.

Please give me enough time to find the wool trap and to put on you. Then I will have to leave you alone to do the coffee.”

Mmmghttt, nnngthhh!” Samantha moaned, as she thrashed a little, trying to move her head and indicate she wanted something more.

The gag, mistress? I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to close the plug. I know that you are not exactly happy with drooling saliva, but it’s unsafe for you. You only just ate and Master left me no instructions about it” she said leaving the room. “But be sure that I will close it and tighten it a little more when I get be back.” her voice echoing down the corridor.

Thhk uuu.”

A minute after something big and woolly moved inside the room, its long tail, orange as the rest of its fur, swinging high on the air. The cat purred, arriving in the vision field of the blonde.

Mmmoohaar.”

The cat looked at her, as it was curious, but it was used to her since it was born, four years before, to see its owner restrained in one way or another. As if answering at a signal, the female cat jumped on her lap, moving slowly over the crushed together legs and lounging against her rigid torso, the tail curved over the body in front of the muzzle. Finding the position comfortable, the animal started to purr slowly.

Mmmght?”

Samantha tried to look at the cat, then she moved slowly her rigid arms and stroked gently with her crimpled fingers the fur, paying attention not to dig too much with her double gloved hands on the cat’s flesh, as she did the first time, not feeling anything with two excruciating tight gloves over her skin and numbed extremities. Both of them started to doze, enjoying the warmness of the room and their situation, even if opposite one to the other. Some minutes after the blonde heard the door of the library opening again and tried to see who was there, but the collar and the position of the chair were impeding her while also at the same time trying not to move too much to avoid disturbing the cat.

Samantha, my love, where is May Hue?” her father wanted to know as he arrived in her field of vision.

Iii mmm room to kkkch th wooohl traaap…”

Oh, yes, the wool trap in your room.”

Mmmm, mmmhh” she answered positively.

Do you think I can remove your gag for a while? I would like to speak with you in an easy way. I know that good girl’s stay silent, and you took this in the best way, trying to be gagged as much as you can, and so for you it’s not a punishment, but well, I sometimes like to hear my beloved star’s voice”. he said smiling, removing the strap and extracting the ring, already soaked with saliva.

Thank you. She went to my room to find the wool trap, but really I have to wear it over my dress? I’m worried…”

About what, my love?”

The dress. I think it could be ruined by the sweat I will produce” she answered, continuing to caress the cat that was sleeping peacefully.

No problem, my dear. It will have to be washed and put away anyway if you decide to follow the new improved rules that will permit to you to become a perfect girl, I mean more perfect than you are already. As I said before, you have to be accustomed to the heat, because if all will be as I think, you will be always be sweating inside the final outfit.”

But in this case the leather of the outfits will…”

No, no my love. Don’t be afraid. No shrinking of the leather. Be sure . . .” He stopped, looking at the entrance of the library, while his wife was slowly sitting on a chair near the fire. “Oh, May Hue has returned.”

My master, I beg your pardon for my lack of control over Samantha for this period, but I needed to go and…”

No problem, May Hue. I’m not upset, I understand that you can’t be in two places at the same time, but this doesn’t mean you will not be punished.”

Yes master.”

This means that after you finish dressing Samantha and serve the coffee, you will go to your room and wait for me.”

Yes master.”

Outfit number five, black, with blindfold and ear plugs.”

Yes…” she gulped. “Master.”

Good. I like your obedience.” she was told as a smile crossed his face. “Now, while I fix my beloved Sonia, please do your duty with Samantha.”

She bowed and put on the small table near the tied girl, a heavy mass of white wool lined with shiny black silk. With expert hands she unfolded a sort of strange garment similar to the one her enslaved Mistress was wearing, but with some deep differences. The presence of the Chinese maid disturbed Mohair, who jumped lazily to the ground and moved near the fire, starting again to purr, but its eyes were fixed on its Mistress, as ready to obtain again its realm, the lap of Samantha.

May Hue, to avoid ruining the dress, please tighten only the external lace. Can you use some ribbon to fold as much as you can of the skirt?” Samantha asked, while the maid started to undo the strap at her ankles from the chair.

Yes, my lady. I have some of them with me, because I also thought the same thing.”

Samantha smiled while the maid used pink two inch wide silk ribbon to lace the big dress, enclosing totally the slender legs of her mistress, then she covered the cloth mass by a big and in some way loose wool bag closed at the bottom and reinforced with leather to avoid that the high and thin heels of her shoes would rip or ruin the wool or the silk.

Various long laces were dangling at the rear of the bag, and others were doing the same along the two edges of the dress, on the back, and near the wrists of the thumbless, mitten-type sleeves and up to the slender neck of the dress. After having unbuckled the strap at her torso, the maid helped Samantha to rise from the chair and quickly she finished covering the girl who was already starting to sweat from the heat within the garment. Her fingers closed with tight knots the laces from the tiny waist to the excruciating slim neck, trapping the blonde beauty.

Please, May Hue, it’s so hot! I don’t know if I can bear it all night… Please gag me in some way, with a cloth or with the plug ring gag you used before. Oh, it’s so hot, and my corset is so tight that I really believe I can’t resist. Please…”

Samantha, stop whining or I will padlock the gag and forget where the key is.” her father told her, looking her right in the eyes. “You are not a baby any more. I could accept this type of behavior when you were younger than now, but my love, you are a girl, you are a lady, and a lady suffers in silence for her beauty without aid of a gag. They must be an aid, not the medium of the silence.”

Yes, you are right, father, but…” she blushed. “When I was young I had no such… Oh my, you know…”

Sensations?”

Yes” the now embarrassed girl mumbled.

I know, I know. And I’m happy that you like how we let you grow up, or you will not approve of this now.”

Her mother grunted trying to laugh, but that was the maximum she could do, because she was tied with silk ropes, standing rigid near the chair where her husband was seated, her eyes not useful because they were locked so she could only stare at the ceiling, and her mouth was packed with a gag similar to the one her daughter used, but with the plug deeply inserted in the ring, rendering her moaning a soft noise. She mumbled something and closed her eyes.

Mom, I know you can understand me, so please, convince my father that in this condition, and with the idea that tomorrow I will start my new training, I’m too excited, and so I need a gag.”

Sonia mumbled something, trying to move her head, clenching her gloved hands.

She is agreeing with me, my love. Be brave, be adult.” he said smiling again, caressing his daughter’s face and kissing her on her sweating forehead.

May Hue, please, the coffee. I will finish the costume. I created it. I know how to fix it in the right way.” he said then he looked at the folded garment still on the table. “Ah, the mantle also. Good girl. I appreciate it, and to demonstrate it, your punishment will be less harsh.”

Thank you Master.”

No earplugs.”

Thank you Master. With your permission…” she bowed and left the room again, slowly and teetering on her high heels and in her chains.

The man caressed again the face of his daughter, still sitting up, her arms stretched slightly at her side, trapped by the various layers of material covering them. He gently grabbed her wrists and crossed them, tying the various laces until her hands were trapped and unable to separate one from to other, then he used a strap still dangling and passed it through a small leather ring on the dress, locking the crossed wrists just under her waist, as if she was resting them in a modest and submissive way.

I want to speak with you, so this is also one of the reasons why I will not gag you as you ask. Believe me, I’m really sorry.”

Yes father. I know, that all what you do is for my own good and I thank you for it” she told him as she tried to smile and rub her cheek against his hands.

Nothing, nothing, my dear”

Can you finish the costume? I would like to enjoy the evening and Mohair.”

Ah, yes. In a couple of minutes you will be hooded and mantled.”

The hood was more a balaclava mask in heavy wool that was also lined internally with silk to slide more easily over the skin and protect it from the itching effect of the outer material. As the rest of the dress, it was closed at the back with a lot of laces, and when he finished, only her eyes were visible through a small slit in the fabric.

Is it tight enough?”

Iths the maximum?”

He pulled again on the laces before answering.

Yes, this is the maximum. No more, considering that you will have to sleep in this.”

Yesh, father” she answered, her voice muffled by the thickness and the tightness of the mask. “Unghagged?”

He laughed.

No, no, my love. When you are in bed, your lips will be closed with my special corset gag with the pear intruder inside. I’ve just redesigned the pear, enlarging it.”

She crooned, imaging her mouth stretched, her teeth enveloped in the special cavities filled with one of the strange but magic creams created by May Hue, as the one she had used on her skin and hair on those years, keeping her skin soft and strengthening her hair and helping it to grow stronger and longer.

Mmmm…” she mumbled, trying to talk, but the silk was impeding her ability to breathe freely. Each small breath she inhaled drew the mask tight to her nose, thus reducing even the minute amount of air her corset and the mask permitted to be drawn in. With each exhalation the silk of the mask became slightly damper and she knew from experience it would bring further difficulty in drawing breathe throughout the evening and into the night.

Now the mantle, so you can sit down.”

As if it understood, the cat mewed and moved a little nearer to Samantha. Her father lifted the other garment, a long mantle made of the same white wool, not lined, and closed it around her neck with a small buckle, on the back before others were fastened to create a sort of poncho ending just under her hips. She sat stiffly and puffing, permitting at the man to close the strings on the bag engulfing her dress until her lower limbs were crushed inside the underwear, the petticoats, the ribbon tied dress and the bag.

Perfect. Now you are snugly encased in warm wool. I’m sure that this small sauna session will help you.”

Yesh . . .” she sighed, enjoying the moment, or at least trying to do so. “. . . Father.”

He kissed her on her nose, then sat on the chair and started to run a gentle hand over the corseted waist of his wife, who moaned, until May Hue arrived with a silver tray with the coffee and some cookies.

Thank you, my dear. You can go to your room and prepare for your punishment. I will arrive as soon as I have finished.”

Can I apply the outfit as much as I can Master?” May Hue asked, knowing that for sure she couldn’t fix herself more severely than he would.

Yes.”

Can I ask you a question Master?”

He nodded.

Miss Samantha needs to go to sleep, but if I’m punished, who will attend the duty? I’m her maid and…”

No problem. Samantha will sleep in the wool trap tonight. There will be no problem with the dress as it has to be washed anyway. Tomorrow she will start the training for her new body and skin. And it will not be a short one, I believe.”

Yes Master. Goodnight, my Ladies.” she said, bowing and exiting.

Mmmmght! Nghttt?”

Sorry, my dear, but I can’t understand anything with the gag in your mouth. Give me a second… Here we are. Your lips are freed.”

Thank you dear. So tomorrow Samantha will start to know your final project?”

Not so simple my love” he said, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and one for his wife.

Wahths is the projhect?”

Oh, my love, you know that I have searched for as long as I can remember for perfection in a human body, in a female body?”

Samantha nodded.

And you know that since you could understand me, I tried to give you my support to become the most precious woman in the world?”

She nodded again, or at least as much as the collar permitted.

Corset, tight gloves, petticoats, chains and other things are useful, but the real perfection, well, it’s not this. It’s a lot more. But I found it.”

The Projhect?” she asked as a small drop of sweat starting to move on the free skin, while the rest of the sweat was starting to be absorbed by the silk and the wool.

Exactly. I finished creating the design, and I have with me all the materials necessary and the craftsmanship to do it, but I had one thing missing.”

What was that my dear?”

Well, Sonia, I can create the final corset, but the world is not prepared for it. The aspect of this creation is not what now the people at present call ‘beauty’”- he said sadly. “But I’ve found a solution for it. I found it just after I spoke with Samantha in the garden. I can use the latest technologies available to create an outer appearance that will add some more to the practical perfection of my creation.”

And I’m invholved on this, fhather? I will be able to thry your final outhfit, the one that will oblige meh to be ath perfect as you whant? As I whant?”

You will be the first real girl, my love! You will be the first one that will be as the first woman in the world, as Eve! But this, as already I said, will lead you to new level of endurance and training. Do you think you are ready for this?”

She thought. For as long as she could remember she had been treated as the most precious thing in the universe, and also the pain of the corsets, armbinders, gags, masks and so on were nothing compared to the love of her parents, and the joy in her father’s eyes when she could parade his creations in public, receiving also compliments for the appearance and her lady-like way to be, also if sometimes she had to hide things from other people because she knew that if to be a silent girl was polite, not everyone could understand that being gagged with leather, rags and a mask of silk on her face under the thick veil was not torture, but only a way to be sure to be elegant and polite.

Yesh, I’m ready. For you. And for me.”

My dear…” cried her mother, sniffing. “If only I could hug you now. I’m so happy.”

Mhe too mother. I will dho everything for my father, for you and ohur happiness, also if this means to be always swheating or be helpless more than whhat I’m ushed to being.”

The evening passed by easily with Samantha, and Mohair, enjoying the warm room, with the cat enjoying lying within the folds of the voluminous costume of its mistress. But suddenly Mohair jumped to the floor looking annoyed at the girl, then moving away out of the room.

What’s the problem, my dear?” her father wanted to know.

Samantha started to move and whine on her chair.

Well, father… I’m sorry Mohhair hash been dishturbed, but… I need to go.”

Sorry?”

Well, normally I’m already in bed, and you know that when I’m in bed I’ve had time to be freed of the problems linked to… you know…”

Ah, the bathroom. Oh my, I forget that you must depend on my sanitary device during the day, and so now…”

Yesh. And I can tell you that I will not be able to hold it more than…” she tensed then relaxed again, mumbling. “Father, I’m so ashamed… I… couldn’t…”

No problem, my love. My bag can hold double the quantity involved. It’s the first time?”

She mumbled something negative.

Buth I think it’s still empty. A part of it… but with the ribbon and so on… The space is not…”

I understand. Now I will release your mother then you so she could help you while I will go to punish May Hue, then I will return and check that your nighttime paraphernalia is perfectly fixed on you and around you.”

Thank you father.”

No problem, my beloved.” he said lovingly “I’ll advise you that tonight will be the first one with both bed and bed sheets covered with natural latex.”

Father, with that latex around me, I will melt away!” she cried happy. “I will finally not look as plump as I see myself when not corseted and restrained as I want.”

Giggling he shook his head.

What will you do when the latex will be your skin?” he thought. “If for only a sheet near your covered skin you are virtually jumping for joy, what you will do when the latex will be around you always, night and day and you will not be free to feel the air? Ah, my love, what a wonderful daughter you are.”

Doll Wife: Part 10

Links to all the parts of the story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Edwin had been back from his business trip for about a fortnight, (and Charity had been exceptionally relieved to get out of her pee-drinking attire and back to ‘normality’ with a night-time session of congress), when there was a knock on the front door. The maid opened it and to her astonishment, in walked Samuel Baines looking extremely furious indeed. He demanded to see Edwin and the two retired to the study whilst Chairty sat in her usual silent contemplation.

When they emerged an hour later, Edwin was wearing a smile and after Samuel had left, he turned to his doll wife and said, “Hmm, I think we’ll be seeing some changes around here soon.”

Sure enough, three days later Samuel called round again and the two men again retired to the study. When they emerged Edwin was again smiling but this time he said nothing.

The third time that Samuel came, he was not alone. Instead he was accompanied by his wife who was most reluctant to enter and had to be manhandled by her spouse who was angry in the face. “Edwin old chap!” he exclaimed, as he pushed the real Chairty onto a chair, “I admit it, I was wrong and you were right! Have the bitch and may she behave better for you than she has done for me!”

“No! No!!!” screamed the woman Charity, clinging onto her husband’s coattails but he merely ignored her, turned tail and left, leaving her lying weeping on the floor. Charity the doll longed to put her arms round her and comfort this doppelganger in distress, but as they were forced into a tight monoglove at the time, she of course, could not. Edwin Clayhanger merely smiled and said, “Welcome home Charity, we shall speak on the morrow,” before retiring to bed and taking his doll wife with him.

On the morrow they did speak and it all became clear. It transpired that that day at the fete the two men had had an in-depth conversation about the real Charity. At first Samuel Baines had been livid that Edwin had modelled his doll wife on his real spouse, but when Edwin had told him how the real Charity had strung him along, he mellowed somewhat and said, “Ed, I understand now how you feel, but you are mistaken; my wife is no whore or gold-digger but a good and poor girl.”

“If only you were right,” Edwin had replied, “and I hope to God that my point-of-view is never proved to be the truth to you.”

But doubts had been put in Samuel Baines’ mind by his old friend, doubts fed perhaps by inklings that he had already he. He hired a private investigator to follow his wife whilst he was at work and discovered that she visited a strange house every afternoon, the house of one Daniel Povey, a well-known local gallant. That was when he’d gone round to Edwin for advice and Edwin had suggested he ask her about her plans for the coming day. “Oh, just to visit old Mrs. Povey on North Street,” she’d replied, which had put his mind at rest somewhat, but just to be sure he’d asked the investigator to dig a little more.

Sure enough, the investigator had dug and Samuel had not liked what he’d found. Yes, Charity had gone to Mrs. Povey’s house, but Mrs. Povey had been holidaying in Llandudno at the time! Indeed, only Daniel had been at home! Again Samuel had visited his friend and again Edwin had offered his advice. “You must confront her and see what she says. If she admits it, then order her to stop; if she does and she repents, forgive her, but if not then you must finish with her.”

“But how can I? She is my wife!”

“Adultery is a good reason for divorce. Even the Bible says so!”

“But what will become of her? I still love her but disgraced so she will never get another husband and her family won’t have her back! I don’t want her to become destitute or a prostitute!”

“Your concern as a husband honours you, but it is not just you who have loved her. If you must divorce, send her to me; I shall accept her as a companion for my Charity and I can ensure that she never disgraces you or any other male ever again.”

The next night Samuel had confronted Charity and she had admitted to an affair. She had not however, repented. “He is a better lover and a better man than you can ever be!” she’d exclaimed, her tongue loose with wine drank with Daniel Povey that afternoon. Her husband, tears in his eyes had begged her to repent and desist but the more he grovelled, the more she mocked him. Then he switched, realised how right Edwin Clayhanger had been all along and so dragged his wife to the home of his friend.

“A Lady’s Companion!” exclaimed the real Charity, indignant. “I am a lady and she – it – is only a doll. How can I be a companion to that?!”

“Charity my love, you were a lady, but you are no longer. Your husband is at the court now instigating the divorce and has placed you in my care. As your guardian I shall of course agree to the divorce and then employ you as a Companion for this Charity here, the Charity who gives honour to the name, not disgrace; the Charity who is the wife that you should have been but never were due to your own sinfulness!”

“No! Never! Anything but! I shall leave here, turn to prostitution, anything…”

But the maid had already placed the chloroform pad over her nose and mouth and she was sinking into the chair.

A week later…

Charity Clayhanger the Doll Wife sits in the sitting room, the clock slowly ticking, watching the hours pass by. Her life now is as it has been ever since she wed Edwin Clayhanger except that these days there are two important differences. The first is that sat by her is another figure, another doll, a doll identical to her in every respect, from the beautiful peach gown to the brown ringlets with yellow ribbons in them to the same rubber face. Even their names are identical: Charity Clayhanger. She is Mrs. Charity Clayhanger, the wife of Edwin Clayhanger; the other is Ms. Charity Clayhanger, her Companion, until recently Charity Baines but since her divorce she has taken on the surname of her guardian. Her ex-husband, incidentally, has recently announced he will be remarrying, to a doll wife formerly known as Shelley Woods but now to be referred to as ‘Arabella’.

As they sit their Mrs. Clayhanger recalls that evening well. She watched as the maids undressed the unconscious real Charity, gave her three successive enemas and then dressed her in her new latex underskin. When she awoke she, like the doll Charity, was force-fed several litres of nutrient-enriched water and then sealed into a doll suit with an exact copy of her real face at the top. Then the wig was produced and the dress and the two doll Charities were born.

The other crucial difference is what will come tomorrow. Edwin, ever the gentleman, announced to the two Charity dolls in his life that despite the fact that one was his wife and pure and the other merely a Companion and enmeshed in sin, he believed firmly in fairness and forgiveness. Therefore, he has forgiven his former love her misdemeanours and shall treat her as he treats his wife. This week Mrs. Clayhanger shall drink and eat and enjoy congress with her husband whilst Ms. Clayhanger sucks pee out of her bottom in sealed silence. After tomorrow though, the roles shall be reversed for a week and Ms. Clayhanger shall ‘enjoy’ the attentions of a man whilst Mrs. Clayhanger shall enjoy the fruits of derriere.

And so it shall continue until the Good Lord takes either Edwin, Charity or Charity.

Twenty years later…

And so here we find Charity Clayhanger, widow of the late Edwin Clayhanger, sat in the parlour of the Chiswick Home for Widowed Dolls. She sits there, a blank-faced, brown-eyed doll with the features of a twenty year-old whom her late husband once loved. Besides her sits an identical doll, a doll whose face, under all the rubber and latex, once looked like the fake face on the front. Their dresses are no longer crinolines for fashions have changed now and they wear large bustles but their hands are still encased in tight monogloves and they sit there in silence as the clocks tick, the only other sound being an almost imperceptible slurping as they both suck pee out of their bottoms to quench the never-ending thirst generated by a life enclosed in latex

FINIS

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Doll Wife: Part 9

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The doll life continued in its mundane fashion for Charity for several months until one evening over dinner her husband announced that he was going away that Friday for a couple of weeks on business. “Alas my dear, I cannot take you with me, but don’t worry, I shall ensure that you are kept safe and secure, ready and eager for my return.”

When Friday came, she was taken to her room, her outer garments removed and the maid placed the chloroform pad over her nose until she blacked out.

She awoke covered in her clear latex undergarments like she always did but this time something was different. Around her waist was some kind of container of black rubber. It was connected to her tubing somehow and had a valve on the side. Then her Charity costume was produced and fitted over her, encasing her in the warm rubber again. Once fitted, the maid showed her her new image in the mirror. She was the same as normal except where her narrow hips had been, she now had massive wide matronly hips. She wondered at first and then realised that, like the narrow waist caused by the corset, it was an optical illusion caused by the rubber container that was fastened around her like a bum roll underneath. But what was the purpose of it all? The maid then produced a polished silver belt with ‘Property of Edwin Clayhanger’ engraved on the front and fastened it around her middle, locking it off with a small padlock. “Your husband has the key to this and it can only be unlocked when he returns,” she explained. Charity was confused; he said that he would be gone for months so how would she cope? Then she realised. Her maid fiddled around at her enormous hips and opened a valve and then attached a tank full of slightly-coloured liquid to it which was then pumped inside her hips. She felt them fill around her until there was pressure all around like a tyre and then the valve was sealed off. “Unlike your school costume M’Lady, this system means that you can be continually refilled without removing the costume allowing for months of continual wear. Sir has said this is mandatory for whenever he is away and the belt prevents removal.”

Charity’s heart fell. After her time in hospital and weeks as a newly-married doll, she’d hoped that at least she would never be forced to subsist on her own pee again yet now it was back and more permanent than ever. She sucked to try and work out how this new system worked and after several hours it was clear. Essentially it was the same as the system at St. Werburgh’s but with an added stage inserted. Rather than drinking every week, she had her bum bags refilled every few days and she drank from these, sucking directly from the bag into her mouth. This went down through her body into her bladder after which she peed into her bottom. When this was full she needed to suck to free space in the bum bags and then her bottom would drain into them and the whole process would start again. Charity realised that drinking from her own bottom was to be a feature of her life for many years to come.

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Doll Wife: Part 8

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The church fete was the main social event in the village and as her husband was one of the most prominent citizens, they were both expected to attend. So it was that Charity was dressed in her full regalia – albeit without the breathing hood which Harry had considered may shock some of the ladies at the event – and they went off to the field where the event was held.

It was trying in all manner of ways for Charity. First of all, the field was most uneven and wearing her ballet boots she found it exceptionally hard to balance, leaning on her husband for support all the while. Plus the exertion of walking round all the bric-a-brac and cake stalls whilst her spouse held polite conversation with the vicar and local notables was most tiring and her legs ached after only a few minutes. But the biggest shock of all was when they entered the large marquee where the teas were being served and she came face to face with someone whom she had never expected to see at all.

Herself.

When I say ‘herself’, I don’t mean the old Emily Carter but instead her new self, Charity Clayhanger. But I don’t mean the doll wife Charity Clayhanger but instead a real, flesh and blood Charity Clayhanger, there in front of her, on the arm of another man. As their faces met she gave a gasp beneath her suit and would have fallen were it not for Edwin’s firm grip. And judging by the reaction of the other Charity Clayhanger, she was just as surprised!

“Edwin! What…?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Baines!” exclaimed Edwin cheerily, “What a pleasant surprise! How are you both? But first, please, let me introduce my wife, Mrs. Clayhanger. Charity darling, these are Samuel and Charity Baines, both childhood friends of mine.”

Charity the doll curtsied but Charity the woman merely looked aghast. “But Edwin, she’s…”

“…a doll? Yes indeed, I have a doll wife. I appreciate that this might surprise you; I must admit that it was never a turn in life that I expected to take but a friend suggested it and do you know what, we are both exceptionally happy together. You really should have considered it, Sam old chap.”

Sam Baines looked as if he did not know where to put himself. Charity Baines on the other hand, seemed now to have completely recovered her composure. “Edwin, it was not the fact that she is a doll that surprised me; you and a doll wife would always have been an ideal match in my eyes, but the fact that she is… she is me!”

“Well yes, I can see how that might be a bit of a shock, but I needed someone to base her upon and who better than my oldest and dearest female friend? I’d have thought you’d have seen it as a compliment.”

“A compliment, why to have a human being encased in latex and…”

But she never finished her sentence for her husband took her by the arm and said, “Now, now Charity dearest, decorum. Listen Edwin old chap, I think you and I need a word… in private. We can leave the ladies here for they must be tired with all this strolling around and we can have a wander.”

“Excellent idea old chap.”

And so it was that one Charity found herself sat opposite the other, engaging in conversation as ladies do. Except that this conversation was all one-way.

“You poor thing,” exclaimed the real Charity, putting her gloved hand on the rubberised arm of her doll copy. “You poor, poor thing! I know that there is no law against it but to think that he did that to you.” The Charity doll looked back at her with a vacant smile. “I can’t believe that he chose to make his doll wife a copy of me. Well… I can believe it, the fiend! He always wanted me, right from when we were teenagers. We were practically engaged and he always talked as if our marriage was a foregone conclusion. Perhaps then it was; after all, who else is there in this village of his standing and stature? But how could I marry a man who views women as mere objects, chattel, dolls…? It was an offer I couldn’t turn down, only postpone. Until Sam moved back into the hall of course, after all his years in Europe, and I caught his eye. When he proposed I snapped his hand off. Your Edwin was distraught of course; he always did love me in his own way; but I never thought that if he could not have me in the flesh, he would recreate me in another way, in this sick and perverted fashion. Oh you poor thing, you poor, poor thing!”

When her husband told her the story that evening it was very different. He admitted to being hopelessly in love with the real Charity and that she had returned his affection, or so he thought, but merely she had been a gold-digger, stringing him along until someone richer – like the excessively wealthy Sam Baines – came along. “I was devastated when I heard that they were to wed, I couldn’t leave my room for a week,” he confessed, “but do you know what, time has taught me that I was the lucky one. She never lived up to the ideal that her pretty face suggests, whilst you my darling are silent, submissive and pure, everything that a wife should be. Sam allows her too much freedom, he really does and he shall come to regret it, he really shall!”

That night as she lay stretched-out spread-eagle on the bed, her husband made love to her with a vigour that she had never previously experienced, shouting out her name at the top of his voice as he exploded within her rubberised hole.

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Doll Wife: Part 7

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She descended the stairs, her gorgeous dress sweeping the steps and was led to the dining room where her husband sat at one end of the table and a place was prepared for her at the other. Although she had accepted that a degree of the doll life would be continuing for her now that she was married, this sight rose her hopes that she might at least get proper meals, all be they liquidised ones. However, when her spouse began to speak, she realised that such was not the case.

“My dear Charity, good morning and don’t you look so radiant today. I have so long waited for this moment, when we can dine together as husband and wife. I thought that it would come many years ago but alas, that was not to be but even so, here we are at last. Now, your former headmistress has told me all about the unusual diet which you were kept on at school and indeed, it seems to have done wonders for you so I have decided that I don’t want my little dolly wife to forget all that she has learnt and so I have decreed you carry on in the same fashion for your breakfast and lunch each day, but for dinner, that being the special meal of the day as it were, we can have something different. However, as we are now united in the eyes of God, it is only right and proper that we share everything, so I have asked the cook to prepare you a tasty breakfast, three parts God’s water and one part mine laced with all the vitamins and nutrients that the doctor assures me you need to stay in your current radiant condition. Does that please you Charity?”

Please her? Did it? Not really, since she really longed for some of the milk he was drinking, but the doll mind was so engrained in her now that she merely nodded mechanically which caused him to smile. “Charity, oh Charity, you are a delight! I must thank Mr. Cartwright for suggesting I take a doll wife instead of chasing after shadows! I’d never considered it before you know; you shall soon learn my former plans, but he came to me, said that he had been landed with a ward who was neither intelligent nor pretty but who could be moulded into a doll for a reasonable bride price and I thought, why not? If I can’t have Charity one way, I’ll have her the other and here you are!”

A maid approached with a large four pint porcelain bowl with a lid on the top and a rubber tube leading out which was attached to her gag. Dutifully she sucked as he husband explained her new life. It was much diluted but the taste was still strange, not being her own and she realised how unnatural it now felt for her to be drinking someone else’s water.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m a rather busy man what with the company to look after and all, so you’ll be without me all day and also for periods when I leave on business trips but I have been assured that your training at school has helped prepared you for such waiting. Whilst I am away I shall arrange some permanent enclosure so that no one may be tempted to violate whilst I am not here, but whilst present I wish access so that I can fulfil my duties to you as a husband. You will be pleased to know that you will be living as a lady, a lady of leisure and that requires a monoglove at all times when I am not present although in the evening I shall enjoy the touch of your mittened hands. I believe you have been trained in such garments so I imagine that is no problem for you. Anyway my love, this house is yours, you are mistress now and I am sure you shall love each and every day spent here!”

But did Charity love each and every day? It is hard to say. Certainly they were largely the same; each like that first one. After breakfast Harry had gone off to his work and she had been laced into an unforgiving monoglove with a tiny bell attached to the end. It caused her arms to ache and go dead but whenever she needed something she could ring the bell and a maid would come. She then went to the ladies’ sitting room where she sat on a couch and waited. Her bladder was getting full now from all the liquid she had consumed and so she let loose and it flowed into the black bag under her bottom, causing the pee to slosh about. Her maid asked her if she wanted tea which she did and a pint of liquid was brought to her which she sucked up. She sat for a while but she was bored in the sitting room so she went out into the garden. However, to go out there her husband had decreed that her rubber skin needed extra protection so a rather strange extra layer was added; a transparent full head latex hood with only a small hole for breathing and then an enormous summer bonnet over that which gave her tunnel vision. Wearing this hood was one of the most terrifying experiences of her life. It reduced her vision – which was pinhole anyway – with only the near ground being clear and the distance fading into a haze of latex but more than that it only had a tiny hole to let air in and when she breathed it closed around her face, only expanding like a balloon again as she exhaled. At first she was scared she would suffocate but slowly she realised that she would not die in it but her air was now stale as it was mostly recycled and she really had to labour her breaths to get any into her lungs. Nonetheless, strange as this may sound, it also excited her somewhat down below and she wished at that moment for her husband to service her.

She sat for around an hour in the garden, all her efforts expended on the hood which sucked in front of her face with a scrunching sound and then blew out again with another scrunch. Then her maid arrived and told her that she had a visitor, a local lady wishing to offer her congratulations on her marriage and so she returned to the sitting room where the bonnet and hood were removed and her breathing became clearer again.

The lady in question was one Arabella Montague, the wife of a local landowner who was friendly with her husband and, to Charity’s surprise, also a doll. She was dressed in a ridiculous pink confection and also had her arms strictly laced into a monoglove that matched her dress. They could of course, not communicate at all, but their maids did it for them. Her maid thanked Mrs. Montague for her visit and informed her that she was enjoying married life. Mrs. Montague’s maid then said that her mistress was well and had brought some magazines for her to read. These turned out to be copies of a publication called ‘Doll Monthly’ and were dedicated to women living as doll wives. Her maid offered tea and two pints of liquid were brought and tubes attached to their mouths. Then reading stands were brought and set up in front of the ladies and together they perused the magazines. The articles were all about women living as dolls, different doll fashions, waste recycling, liquidised food ideas – most dolls it seemed, were not fed primarily on urine – and meal hints; restraints, rubber underclothing, doll schooling and the like. There was a large feature on husbands who regularly changed their doll wives’ faces and Charity wondered if Harry would ever do that for her. Then, after an hour or two, Mrs. Montague left and Charity retired for dinner, another two pints of diluted pee with vitamins. By this time, on top of her breakfast, she had consumed four pints and had been peeing herself regularly, the liquid collecting in her bag which was now forming a rather sloshy cushion for her to sit on. The afternoon followed a similar pattern but with no visits and by the end the bag was full to bursting and she was sat quite high on her new, self-made pee cushion.

At six Harry returned and went straight to greet her. He kissed her on her rubber cheek then went to his armchair, sat down, asked her to kneel in front of him. Then he opened his trousers, got out his manhood and got her to suck him to climax whilst he stroked her wig lovingly. Then they retired to the dining room for dinner which, as promised, was a different kind of food for Charity. That evening it was a kind of pumpkin soup placed in a large bowl which she sucked up eagerly, delighting in the exquisite taste after such different fayre all day, looking into Harry’s eyes and realising that she loved her new husband very much for caring so much about her. Then they retired to the drawing room, he unlaced her monglove, sat her on his knee like a little girl and told her a story whilst caressing her miniscule waist and huge breasts before she was taken by the maid up the stairs, stripped of her clothing, had her bag removed, (it’s contents saved for future meals), and fastened on the bed again waiting for her husband. This time though, she was not laid out like a starfish, but instead on her front with her legs attached to the bottom posts, but her arms held behind her in a single sleeve. Cushions and pillows were placed under her so that her rubberised bottom, so long the source of all her nutrition, was presented lewdly in the air. Harry soon came, whipped out his manhood, lubed it thoroughly and then proceeded to take her anally pumping in and out quite painfully, filling her hole completely before finally depositing copious quantities of his seed in there and plugging it off, then turning her over and refastening her in the spread-eagle position before relieving himself in her mouth again, kissing her goodnight, wishing her sweet dreams and going to sleep. To us that may sound terrible, but we have not been trained at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies and for Charity her prime emotion at that time was of adoration for the man who had demonstrated so clearly that she excited him, that he wanted her.

And such was the life of Charity the doll, day after day, each much the same as the last, continuing ad infinitum until the day of the church fete.

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Doll Wife: Part 6

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Finally the day of the wedding came. Emily was awoken early and dressed in a tight corset that was laced steadily down. Beautiful white stockings were fitted to her rubberised legs and then stunning white ballet boots. Her bottom hole was plugged with an ivory plug and then dozens of frilled petticoats fitted. Her corset was tightened again so that she fainted and after she was brought round another round of lacing began whilst long gloves were fitted over her rubber hands. Then came the enormous crinoline and stunning dress and finally veils, seven of them in silk that blinded her completely. There she stood, silent, gasping for breath, blind and a vision of virginal beauty. Slowly she was led away to the service.

The service was torture. She had to stand and kneel totally blind, fighting to stay conscious and suck air into her tortured lungs. However, two points she did remember clearly. The first was when the priest announced her new name: “Do you Charity Emily Carter take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband…?” Charity. She was to be Charity from now on! And the second moment was when he lifted all those veils to kiss her rubber face. She was surprised: her new spouse was a youngish man, only a little older than her Emily self, and not ugly. She felt his lips kiss the rubber and thanked God for relieving her from the clutches of Miss Parker.

Then came the meal with her guardian making a speech on her behalf and her new spouse extolling the virtues of a doll wife in his. Peering through her eyeholes she could see several other dolls in the crowd, silent and not eating and wondered if there was some kind of crowd which specialised in doing this to their wives and daughters. Still, whether there was or not, her training had taught her not to question, merely to be. She was a doll now, a doll wife and she needed know no more than that.

After the meal, Charity was led away from the table by a maid and up the stairs of her new mansion home. She arrived into a glorious bedroom with a fine four poster bed in the middle of it. The maid divested her of her heavy dress and then all her undergarments and then attended to her toilet. Empty and clean, she was led to the bed where she was lain out but then to her surprise, there came some unexpected extras. Her arms were stretched out to the top posts and cuffed there whilst her ankles were stretched to the bottom ones. She was lain spread-eagled, unable to move a muscle. Then the light was turned off leaving her almost totally blind. There she lay, panting in silence, waiting for her new husband not as a wife but as a passive love doll.

She waited and waited, for what seemed like an age but then she heard a door and felt a presence near her. “Charity! Charity!” said a male voice and someone climbed on top of her. He fiddled around her private parts and then she felt an erect penis enter her latex-sheathed hole. He pumped away and she tried to reciprocate but could only manage the slightest of movements. As he fucked her he caressed her hard narrow waist and her tender rubber-covered tits which hurt somewhat but she could do nothing to stop it. She longed to hold him in her arms as she’d imagined doing with a husband when she was younger but obviously dolls do not do that. As he worked away she compared the experience with her youthful fumblings with Johnny Baxter. In some ways this was far worse; she had no say in the matter, she was totally at his mercy, she was entirely passive, it was not romantic at all, not a meeting of two willing bodies, more a rape. Yet the virtual blindness, her sheer helplessness and her doll-like appearance in another way excited her, turned her on and made this special. The two experiences were from separate worlds just as she was no longer a living, breathing girl but instead an anonymous rubber love doll.

Once he had finished he lay on her a while panting and then climbed onto her face and his cock thrust through into her rubber-coated mouth. “I believe you like how this tastes,” he said to her and immediately warm pee started flowing into her mouth. She gulped it down obediently but gagged a little. His pee was not hers; it tasted of alcohol and smelt horrible. Hers was neutral and… well, her own. But she knew that she was his now and so she continued to swallow, tasting pee for the first time in weeks and when she had finished she sucked him dutifully dry.

In the morning Charity awoke with her new husband lying on top of her. He was snoring soundly but she could sleep no longer. She longed to wake him and perhaps enjoy some more intimate activity but of course she could not. She was a Charity doll now; all she could do was lie and wait. As she did her bladder filled and she longed to drain it but unlike in her days at the school she could not so she held it in. Eventually, after a couple of hours he woke. She was worried he would want to enjoy her hole again which would be difficult considering her need for the toilet, but he did not and instead climbed on her face again and this time used her mouth to relieve his tensions. He bounced up and down on top of her causing her to struggle to breathe, her enormous breasts bouncing up and down with each laboured breath but this only aroused him all the more until he exploded into her mouth. The sticky liquid that now graced her throat was a new sensation for her; somewhat salty and with a unique aftertaste and she realised at that moment that this would become a regular alternative to urine for her.

He left her, the semen still coating her mouth and after a few minutes her maid came. She took her to the bathroom and then attended to her toilet, emptying her full bladder and giving her a thorough enema but then, after plugging her bottom as before, a large, a catheter was inserted into her pee hole which was attached to an empty rubber bag which was fastened under her bum. No explanation was offered and Charity could hardly go ahead and ask so she just stood docilely whilst it was screwed into place and then the maid dressed her in copious silken underclothes that she’d have loved to have felt directly on her skin before then dressing her in her new attire as a wife. Unlike at the school, her dress was now the very opposite of plain, a glorious creation in yellow silk printed with tiny flowers and decorated with every manner of bow and frivolity. It had a high lacy collar and in her brown sausage curls little yellow ribbons were tied. The only disconcerting thing was that on her hands, already difficult to use since they were covered by two layers of rubber, padded mittens were tied so that they were rendered absolutely useless. Ballet boots were then laced to her feet and when she was led to the mirror she saw the image of a very girly, prissy young doll lady with a smiling face and not a care in the world. It was shockingly innocent, almost childish, yet at the same time the enormous globes of her heaving fake breasts and the minuscule waist hinted of a very adult alternative reality. That was Charity; that was her from now on.

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Doll Wife: Part 5

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Life continued in the same surreal fashion for Emily the Clarissa doll as the months rolled by. She had been told that she would stay in the school until her waist reached 15 inches and at first she tried to work it out at half an inch a week, but that time passed and she realised that the reductions were getting smaller as she neared her target. Certainly she felt them and was always gasping for breath. However, one day, after about six months she was summoned to Miss Parker’s office and the schoolmistress announced that she would be getting married in a month’s time but that first she would be going to hospital in order to have her marital improvements undertaken. Emily wondered what improvements could be done to someone who is totally sealed off from the world but then realised with joy that after marriage she would no longer be a pee-drinking rubber doll anymore. That surprised her a little when she thought of it for she had now got very used to her situation and the prospect of consuming anything other than her own waste was strange to her now. She recalled Miss Parker’s words about a doll-mind being formed and she realised that she was now passive and accepting of most things, including the fact that she would be taken to hospital to have her body altered without any consultation.

The next day she left and was transported to Gt. Ormond St. Hospital in a sealed car. This was the first time she’d left the school save to go to church, but with her blinding veil she saw nothing and after the car stopped she was led walking blind down several corridors and then ordered to sit in a chair. When her bonnet and veil were removed she discovered that she was in a private consulting room with a bed covered in white latex. Her maid undressed her and then removed her Clarissa costume. Stood in latex only she felt quite naked and emptied her waste into a bucket on the floor. Then her mouth tube was removed and the chloroform covered her nose.

Emily awoke aching and tired and with a blinding headache. She found herself strapped to a bed, covered in latex but not her Clarissa costume. There was a gag in her mouth but no tube connected to it and instead she was being fed by a drip into her arm. She tried to raise her head and see what had been done to her and when she did gave a small gasp of surprise. Fastened to her chest were two of the most enormous breasts that she had ever seen, each easily as big as her head! She shook her body and they jiggled beneath the latex but still stayed proud and alert. So, her new husband wanted her to have a massive bosom then! But what else?

Sometime later a nurse arrived. She smiled and said, “Glad to see you’re awake again Miss Carter. Those new breasts of yours are some of the largest we’ve done for a while but I’m sure they’ll please your husband. You’ll find them very hard and distended; he especially requested that I believe. What you won’t know that is that down below we’ve trimmed away some of your excess flesh petals to leave a smooth hole which is far more doll-like don’t you think? Anyway, I’ll be back regularly if you have any problems.”

Emily didn’t have any problems and besides, doll life had taught her just to lie and wait. She recovered in the hospital for about a week and at the end was able to feel her heavy new breasts with her latex-covered hands. They certainly were hard and round and looked completely fake but then again, she was half doll now anyway, was she not? At least she did not have to drink pee all the time now and everyday she was allowed to drink water and even juice which was a totally unexpected pleasure and like heaven for her.

When she came to move again, she found walking hard. Her breasts were very heavy and threw her whole body forwards. She had to spend hours practicing with the nurse before she could finally leave.

Emily was not taken back to the school but instead dressed in a different doll suit and removed to a hotel. This doll suit had no internal plumbing and so instead she had to use the toilet again like a normal person although there was still a plugs in her bottom hole to prevent accidents, her vagina, now freed of its excess flaps of skin was now left free, beyond the latex lining that penetrated it for a couple of inches. What was also different now was the mouth. Like before, this appeared like a pair of smiling lips, but inside it was very different, a ring keeping her teeth open whilst latex still coated the inside. However it also contained, just behind the teeth, an extra layer of rubber so that items could enter the mouth like her drinking pipe but were now harder to remove and had to be put in more deeply, coming out with a ‘Pop!’ when they did. What was also new was her face. Gone was the Clarissa doll and in her place a very realistic latex face of a young lady in her twenties with sweet brown eyes and long brown hair in ringlets. She was certainly very beautiful and Emily guessed that was why her husband had chosen it.

In that hotel she was laced into a longer corset and her training in walking continued. Then, two days later, a dress arrived, a glorious creation in white with a seven-foot wide crinoline, white silken gloves and lots of frills and bows. She was fitted into it and adjustments made and then stripped again.

Links to all the parts of the story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Doll Wife: Part 4

Links to all the parts of the story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Life at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies was like a surreal nightmare for Emily. On that first day she had been taken to the room with the other dolls – or students which of course is what they were – and sat on a chair where she had stayed for hours, unable to move easily and instead just sweating profusely, breathing with great difficulty whilst all the while her pee circulated from her bladder to her bottom to her mouth and then back down to her bladder again. The only other activity was to watch the other dolls – who were all referred to as ‘Clarissa’ by the maid and Miss Parker – but they all had different numbers on their necklaces – and watch the clock tick by through her pinhole glass doll’s eyes. Then at five the maids entered and they all rose and trooped into the next room which was a large dining room. There they were all sat at a table with Miss Parker at the head. Everyone was served food, roast beef and vegetables which looked delicious, but of course only Miss Parker ate, for they had all already dined on quite different fayre. Then, after dinner they rose and returned to the sitting room for another hour, before being collected for bed at seven.

To reach her bedroom Emily had to climb two flights of stairs which was not easy in her ballet boots and rubber, not to mention the wide crinoline, but she got there with her maid’s help and found herself in a small box room with a trapeze. In the middle of the room she was then undressed back to her doll skin, shift and bloomers but that was all, and then was told to sit on the bed and the maid did something very strange and unexpected. She got a bowl and knelt at her charge’s feet and then fiddled around with her rubber skin under the ball of her foot. There was evidently some sort of opening or valve there and small holes in the latex body suit underneath for a flow of liquid was released into the bowl. “That’s nice and clean now isn’t it?” said the maid to her with a smile but Emily didn’t understand what she meant. But as she was repeating the process with the other foot, she realised; it was the sweat that had collected during the day; the maid was draining her costume! After this she was tucked into bed. However, her arms were then guided to the sides of the bed where they were cuffed whilst her legs cuffed at the foot. There was to be no attempt at removing her costume and after she was tucked in and kissed on her smiling rubber mouth by the maid, she had to just lie there and suffer until, after many hours, sleep eventually came.

The next morning she was awoken early and redressed in her uniform. Then she was led downstairs for a surreal breakfast with Miss Parker and the other dolls before then the morning lessons which were all about walking gracefully on the ballet heels. For over an hour they walked in circles around a yard whilst the maids helped them and Miss Parker maid comments and criticisms. It was hard and thirsty work indeed and the constant movement caused her to be continually leaking pee into her bottom but at the end she was much better at handling the boots and could walk unaided.

Then came a surreal lunch and after that another hour of lessons, this time in a classroom. Miss Parker wrote a passage on the blackboard and all the Clarissa dolls had to copy it on slates, not an easy task when your hands are covered with two layers of rubber and one of kid. The passage that they copied was about the role of wives with the ideal wife being silent and submissive to her husband. ‘Dressed like this,’ thought Emily to herself, ‘I don’t have much choice!’ Then they all retired to the sitting room again for several hours of watching and waiting. As she sat there drenched in her own sweat, her mouth tasting of pee, Emily started to pass the time by seeing how long she could hold her bladder and then how long she could hold her pee in her bottom. Strange as this might sound, the latter activity, although slightly painful, was beginning to excite her down below in a way that she thought was probably inappropriate, but with nothing else to occupy her time, she continued with it. Then after that it was dinner again, another hour in the sitting room and bed.

The days all followed exactly the same pattern except that the lessons were different on different days. She was trained in walking with ballet boots, wearing a monoglove and on what to expect when she became a wife. They watched a video of different improvements made to women, with some being given gifts of enormous bulging breasts or fat pouting lips. Watching this, Emily would have love to feel her own breasts but as her arms were firmly pinioned behind her in a tightly-laced monoglove at the time, then this was obviously not a possibility.

Things changed however, on Sunday, the day of rest. Ever since she’d been sealed into her Clarissa doll costume Emily had been looking forward to this as Miss Parker had told her that on Sundays the costume is removed. Also, as the week had passed she’d noticed a difference. Whereas at the beginning her pee had come regularly and she’d felt bloated, by the end of the week it was far smaller in volume and more acrid in taste. She guessed that this was due to the loss of liquid through sweat and she was desperate to fill up with clean water again, plus she also hoped that she may get some time out of her costume and perhaps even a meal to enjoy as well so Sunday was like a beacon of hope for her.

On Sunday morning she was awoken extremely early, about five, by her maid and, to her delight, stripped of her shift and bloomers and then her Clarissa doll suit. Standing there in all the clear latex, she felt a little cooler but not much different, but eager to undress further and feel the air of the outside world on her skin. Her maid got out a bowl, carefully un screwed her plumbing and told her to empty her bladder. This she did gladly and the pee that had been circulating through her body for an entire week was now all collected in the bowl. It was a rather dark green now, and she was glad to be rid of it but first she needed to taste some of the real pure water. However, instead of this, her maid instead took a damp pad from a box and held it over her nose. “Breath deeply,” she ordered. Emily did so but then immediately felt weak and dizzy. She realised it was chloroform. Within seconds her world had gone black.

When she awoke she found that she was lying on her bed. She was still dressed in all her clear latex but she felt different: drier and cleaner yet somehow tighter. She turned to look at her maid who was sat by her bed. “Ah, you’re awake, good. You have been out for over an hour. During that time I have undressed you, bathed you and given you a thorough enema. I bet you’re feeling fresh and clean now; you certainly were very dirty and smelly after a week in there. You’ve also been laced to new dimensions, an extra half an inch has gone from your waist and a quarter inch from your neck. This will continue until you are fifteen inches around the waist, the dimensions preferred by your husband to be. Now, we need to get you ready for church but here’s the bit I imagine you’ve been looking forward to: it’s time for your weekly drink!”

She produced a medical stand with a large gallon bag of clear liquid with a hose running out. This hose she attached to Emily’s gag and the confined girl began to suck eagerly. After a week of pee drinking this was heavenly, the most beautiful drink she had ever experienced, real amber nectar. After only a pint or two though she began to feel full but carried on sucking; she now knew the consequences of drinking too little! Finally it was finished, and the tube unplugged and replaced with her regular plumbing. She felt clean and good but at the same time devastated that she had not experienced life outside of her suit. As if reading her mind, the maid said, “Here at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, our students are not allowed to be conscious outside of their latex suits; it helps undermine the doll mind mentality that we are working so hard to achieve.”

After that she was sealed back into her Clarissa doll suit and then dressed in her uniform. Today though, since they were going to church, there was more. Her gloved hands were fitted into a muff which locked in place making it impossible to removed them and then a heavy cloak was draped over her and fastened up the front. Finally a large bonnet was fitted atop her head with a thick veil which rendered her blind. Then, fully dressed, she was led out of her room to church.

How long the walk was she could not say, for blinded it was impossible to measure time or distance but she reckoned only about half a mile or so. But in her rubber and ballet boots, weighed down by her cloak and blinded by her bonnet and veil, it was a real trial. As she shuffled along she realised that to the outside world she, and all the other students of St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies would appear as normal young ladies such as are to be found in any good school. No one would know that in fact they were forced to live as pee-drinking rubber dolls. As she walked the movement broke her bladder again and almost immediately she began to suck from her bottom. The taste was better now, less acrid and cleaner, but tinged with the harsh knowledge that she had a long time to wait before she could be refilled again.

Links to all the parts of the story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10