The Tale of Anastasia: Part 8

Links to all parts of the story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Chapter 15

Punishments at Miss Garner’s Institute for Ladies of Leisure were executed in the cellar, an area of the house that Anne had previously never been allowed to see. Following her meeting with the headmistress, she was returned to her room and stripped down to her chastity belt, boots and corset. Her arms were taken from their binders and rebound in a leather monoglove, a leather gag, far larger than her fleur de bouche fitted into her mouth and finally a cloak with large hood was wrapped around her so that no one would learn the identity of the unfortunate who was to be discipline as punishment at Miss Garner’s Institute was very much a private, not public, affair.

Perkins led her down the stone steps and opened the door to the cellar. The heat was astonishing and the reason for it immediately became apparent, for it was in those depths that the mighty boiler that heated the whole house was located and as she watched a burly sweat-stained workman was busy shovelling coal into it. Aside from him and Perkins, Anne was alone.

The maid led her over to a wooden bench into which she was strapped. At first she wondered about the design for it did not hold her seated as she would have expected, but instead bent over, her head near to the floor and her pinioned arms up in the air like the mast of a great ship. More worryingly however, was that the vast moons of her enhanced derriere were left exposed to the air and facing upwards in full view.

“It is normal Miss Anne, for a husband to chastise his wife and indeed, many do so regularly even if they have not committed any wrongs just to remind them the consequences if they did. Your fiancé in fact has already indicated that he intends for you to receive some kind of chastisement though I do not know if it will be misdemeanour based or simply routine. However, he has already commissioned a suitable paddle from Briggs’, the premier paddle manufacturers in Bloomsbury, with the Norfolk crest engraved upon it. For now however, as he is absent in France, we shall have to make do with the official Miss Garner’s paddle with the school logo on it and Sykes here. Sykes, would you be so kind?”

“Right away, ma’am.”

The workman came over and took the paddle from Perkins. “How many, ma’am?” he asked.

“The standard punishment for a misdemeanour is five paddles and according to Miss Garner, Miss Curzon here has committed two such misdemeanours; the first being disobeying myself when ordered to complete the duty of visiting an elderly member of the community and the second being the failure to take note and gain success when being tutored by Capt. Hope. Therefore, the punishment shall be ten paddles. You may start now, Sykes.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

Swish!

The pain was a shock! A painful shock! Anne cried out but the gag soaked up much of the sound and little more than a groan was heard.

Swish!

There it was again, only this time worse as her derriere was still tender from the last paddle. Anne cried out again and Perkins tutted. “Please, Miss Anne, show some restraint!”

Swish!

Anne tried to show restraint but it was hard. Tears flowed from her eyes and…

Swish!

…and yet at the same time she realised that she was wet. Why? There was something…

Swish!

… something pleasurable about this! But why? That wasn’t right, that wasn’t…

Swish!

…wasn’t natural! This was painful, oh so painful! She wanted it to stop, to end and yet…

Swish!

…yet at the same time she didn’t; at the same time it really excited her in ways that she didn’t really…

Swish!

…really understand. Oww, how it hurt! How many? How many had she endured now? Six? Or possibly…

Swish!

…possibly seven. So if that was the seventh, then only three more…

Swish!

…more, nay only two more left! Never had two seemed so many and yet….

Swish!

…yet it was almost over, the last one now, bring it on! Bring it on! Come on I need this! Oh…

Swish!

… oh yesssssssss!!! It is over, it is accomplished!

“Thank you Sykes, now can you release the young lady and prepare her for the second stage?”

“Certainly ma’am.”

“Miss Anne, you have completed the first stage of your punishment. Here at Miss Garner’s punishment comes in two parts; firstly the pain and secondly the opportunity to meditate on your sins and repent. For every misdemeanour there is a prescribed meditation and repentance period of twelve hours and there fore your encapsulation shall be for twenty-four hours exactly. Sykes here will now lace the punishment corset onto you.”

By this stage Anne was attached to a lacing bar and Sykes was approaching with the most remarkable corset that she had ever seen. In fact, it looked like no corset at all but instead a body suit for it was to e fitted from her toes right up to the crown of her head, leaving only her arms and face free. “The middle is always laced to half an inch smaller than your usual and contains a stem waist half an inch longer, Miss Anne,” informed Perkins, who seemed to be enjoying her mistress’ travails. “It shall be a trial for you to wear, miss.”

A trial it indeed was. It took over an hour to lace fully and once done Anne could not move a muscle, from her en pointe toes to her head forced back by the elongated neck. Worst of all though was the middle which crushed her mercilessly. She was as a statue and due to the heat of the room, was already sweating profusely. Once done, she was released from the lacing bar, her hands cuffed together in front of her and laid out on a hard bed that lay in the middle of the room and from the smell, Anne suspected might belong to Sykes.

“Now Miss Anne,” continued Perkins, during meditation and repentance, your arms are to be in the perfect reverse prayer position. Sykes, if you would be so kind.”

“Certainly ma’am.”

Perfect reverse prayer! There was nothing so horrible, so painful! Anne shuddered but said nothing. After all, a lady does not complain and, after this ordeal, she would not be disobeying orders again in a hurry, even if a friend was in trouble!

It took another ten minutes or so to twist her arms into the difficult perfect reverse prayer position and then lace them up neatly. Then Sykes produced a strange contraption like a small platform with rods sticking upwards about two feet in height. It was mounted on wheels. The burly workman then lifted her immobile form up and placed her on the platform, the rods keeping her from falling over whilst Perkins secured her on with straps. Once that was done the maid explained fully the rest of her punishment.

“Miss Anne, please come over here!”

Anne of course could not move anywhere but Sykes obligingly wheeled her across the room and through a doorway into another, smaller chamber. In this room stood a bulky woman, her figure shrouded by a cloak and hood.

“This is another one of the pupils here being chastised for misdemeanours,” Perkins explained. “It does not matter which of your friends it is, punishment is a private affair here; I only show her to you so that you may understand what meditation and repentance entails.”

The maid then went over to the figure and undid the cloak. It fell to the ground to reveal a thick woollen dress with no arms. This however, was not what shocked Anne. What shocked her was that in the place of a face, a pot mask with closed eyes as if a doll were sleeping, was seen. Throughout all of this, the figure remained motionless and seemed to Anne to be more a mannequin than a living girl.

“First the petticoats,” decreed Perkins as Sykes came back through, her arms laden with vast quantities of material. No less than ten petticoats were put on Anne before a thin cotton dress covered her body. Then the main dress, in unbecoming thick grey wool. Anne shuddered. Already the cellar was hot; wearing this it would become unbearable! The dress was button on and the temperature rose dramatically. Perkins however, had not finished.

“I shall place the head hood on now, which has the pot mask attached to the front. Wearing it you shall see nothing and hear very little as the ears are padded. Your world shall become black and silent and the heat together with your red raw buttocks shall remind you or your sins. Use this time to sink within yourself, to contemplate your sins and to beg forgiveness. Tomorrow at the same hour you shall be removed from your cocoon a new and more moral butterfly. Now the hood, Sykes!”

The hood was leather and laced tightly at the back. It compressed her head and made her feel claustrophobic and alone. With no eyeholes the world went black and heated up immediately. The only reminder of the outside world was a small warm breeze through the holes by her nostrils.

Anne felt an extra weight being put on her which she assumed was the cloak and then some motion as she was wheeled into the corner of the room where she was to stand. Then there was nothing. At first it was unbearable, she wanted to free herself to fight; not having any idea or the time scared her. The heat built up and she sweated more. She realised that she had to keep still but it was hard. She longed for sleep but it would not come and instead she was alone in her prison, pain all over her body, compressed from every angle; yet strangely safe somehow.

That safety gave her solace. Since she had come to England her life had changed in all aspects; she had been enhanced and turned into a plaything; stripped of her rights and given a new name and religion. All control of her life had been taken off her and she was now due to marry a stranger and exist as his toy until he passed away and then… well, then her sons would take control. It was all so unfair, so overwhelming, so wrong…

And yet at the same time, in England not once, not even for a second, had she ever felt in danger. It was hard, yes, but it was safe. She was looked after here. Even down in this cellar, this unbearably hot cellar where the sweat poured off her, where she could not move a muscle, entombed in cloth and corset, even here, she knew that they were looking after her, that she was safe, that she would come to no harm. These thoughts helped her and slowly they mushroomed in her mind. She recalled the two minor offences that she had committed to warrant this punishment. At the time she’d been angry that she was being punished for those offences – after all, hadn’t the circumstances been special, excusable. Now however, she realised; that this safety was sacred, it was the Holy Grail that all people sought. But it could only be achieved if one obeyed the rules and special circumstances or not, she had broken them. No, the punishment was just, even if it was hard to bear. And with those comforting thoughts she drifted away on a raft across the endless ocean of her mind.

Chapter 16

Anne only realised that she was being released when Perkins took the pot mask off her and the dull light blinded her eyes. Then the thirst hit her and she gratefully drank the whole jug of water that the maid offered. Following that she was released. The other hooded figure was gone now. Slowly the punishment corset was removed and her own stays loosely laced on. Then she returned upstairs for a long hot bath and afterwards bed. Anne then slept for twelve hours straight even though she had done absolutely nothing for the twenty-four that preceded it.

Following her punishment, Anne was more docile than before and accepted everything with a resignation that she herself welcomed as it made life far less stressful. She had subconsciously committed herself to them and resigned from even the office of rebellion, and having done so life was far more enjoyable. Instead she entered fully into the preparations for her marriage which was now only a few weeks away and every thought was connected with trying to please her future husband as much as she could.

The punishment had also had another, pleasing side effect. The extended period of time in the punishment corset had caused her to lose weight and her body to become accustomed to the new, tighter measurements. Miss Simpson asked her if she wished to return to the old measurements which were the ones that her fiancé had decreed, but Anne knew that he would prefer the smaller ones and so kept at them. This meant that the wedding dress had to be re-stitched at some cost but she cared not, for she knew that it would make him happy.

Two days before her wedding, Anne had her farewell meal at Miss Garner’s. It wasn’t a great experience as most of the girls – including Clare Hawkins – had already left to get married themselves, but the food was exquisite and Anne was glad that Miss Garner had decided to mark it. Then the next day it was down to London on the train where she met her step-father at St. Pancras station and they travelled to M. Saint Laurent’s boutique for a final fitting and ironing out of details and then to the hotel itself, the grand Cumberland in Bloomsbury where her reception and wedding night would later be spent. “Look!” said Lord Robert as they pulled up in the car outside. “That building there is the Soviet Embassy; isn’t it fitting that you truly enter English noble life in its shadow?” Anne looked at the great modernist stone building that dominated the street and thought. Yes, it was fitting in a way.

Anne wishes that she could give a detailed account of her wedding day now, but in truth it was all a blur. She was woken up at four in the morning when the dressing started and finally ready in a stunning creation of white silk and flowers by ten. Then she minced outside to a waiting horse and carriage which drove her through the streets of the capital to the great abbey of Westminster where she alighted and slowly walked down the long, long aisle to where her groom awaited. Then the service, then a drive back through the capital to Hyde Park where there were photgrpahs and then finally back to the Cumberland for the reception where over a thousand members of the nobility had gathered to wish them well, dine and be merry. After the meal, (of which Anne ate virtually nothing), and the speeches, there was the ball, but in her dress Anne could not dance or indeed do aught but stand and smile and so, as tradition dictates, a podium was wheeled out and Anne placed on it, (secretly fastened on in a manner akin to when she was punished), and then wheeled into the very centre of the ballroom and whilst the orchestra played and the couples waltzed, Anne stood there for all to admire, rotating slowly like a piece of crystal in a shop window, very much the bride on the wedding cake. Then, around ten, she was removed, the whole assembly raised a toast to her, and she was taken upstairs by Perkins to the sumptuous bridal chamber in order to be prepared for the greatest night of her life.

Once in there, Perkins undressed her, peeling off the fine layers of silk until, for the first time in a year, she was wholly naked. Then she was bathed in a gigantic bath of rose water before finally being powdered dry and led back into the bridal chamber.

“Right Miss Anne, now you are to be prepared,” said the maid. “The Duke has decreed…”

“Stop!” rapped out Anne. She couldn’t even believe herself when she had said it.

“Excuse me, Miss Anne…”

“You forget Perkins, it is ‘Mrs.’ or indeed ‘Lady’ Anne now!”

“I apologise Your Ladyship, but…”

“No ‘buts’, you are to leave Perkins!”

“But Your Ladyship, His Lordship…”

“I am your mistress, not he, nor my uncle, nor Miss Garner! When I tell you to leave, you will leave! I shall call when I wish you to prepare. I need time alone to think. Go!”

Perkins clearly did not wish to go but she also realised that the balance of power had changed and her stern expression changed into a meek, “Yes, Your Ladyship.” Like a mouse, she scuttled out of the room, carefully closing the door behind her.

After Perkins had left, Anne walked over to the door and turned the key in the lock. As she did it, she felt strange and at first couldn’t grasp why. Then it came to her: for the first time in months she had used her hands for something, she was not completely helpless and dependent on others. She took those hands and held them before her face before rubbing them slowly against one another. The touch was unreal; a touch denied for so long. A flash of fury streaked across her mind: what right had society to deny her of so simple a pleasure?

Anne walked across to the window and gazed out, not caring that the world might see her nakedness. There across the road it stood, a great hulk of square grey stone, a symbol of another more modern, very different world. The red flag resplendent with triumphant hammer and sickle fluttered proudly in the evening breeze. Some would say more free, more human. When Lord Curzon had mentioned in passing that the wedding hotel would be opposite the embassy, the very symbol of her old country and self, then she had thought nothing of it, but as the hours had passed, like the mustard seed, the germ had grown into a great tree. Here she was, alone and unhampered, with salvation but across the way. All she needed to do was slip on a dressing gown; sneak out into the deserted corridor, down the stairs, out through the servants’ door and across the road. Freedom! No more Lady of Leisure, no more Anne Howard, Duchess of Norfolk, bound, squeezed, restrained in every imaginable manner, the property of a man whom she hardly knew. Once through those doors, Anne could die and Anastasia Kolyakonova could be reborn! Independent Anastasia, the Anastasia who had a happy life to look forward too across on the other side of this continent, the Anastasia who had been so happy. Would they accept her? Of course they would! The papers would love it, Modern Soviet Woman forced into a marriage against her will to some backward Lord who would keep her tied up inside his castle, secluded from the civilised world. She would become a heroine! The British would hate it of course; they would moan and rail, protest that this was their way, their culture, their religion, but against the might of the USSR, what could they do?!

Anne turned away from that window of opportunity and walked over to the bed upon which her dressing gown lay. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped. She turned to see, for the very first time, her new naked self. There before her was not the Anastasia Kolyakonova that she knew but instead another woman, more sensual and voluptuous. Where a boyish figure had once been was a mass of curves: huge orbs stood out from her chest, obviously grafted on, as round and ripe as melons, with no sag and enormous nipples the size of thimbles, whilst below them, even without a corset, a miniscule waist that she could encircle with her two hands. And then, below that, it broadened out again, massively into buttocks of prodigious proportions, two huge maternal orbs, as if someone had inserted a tyre pump into her anus and pumped and pumped and pumped until no more air would fit in. She touched those buttocks, as firm as any car tyre. She was no longer a woman but more a cartoon caricature of one, exaggerated in all the right places like Betty Boop in Mr. Disney’s cartoons. “What have they done to you, Ani?” she asked. No reply came. Ani did not answer because from those enhanced lips she could not. They were not hers, but instead the lips of some Biblical temptress like Bathsheba or Salome. Ani of course, had never even read the Bible.

Anne on the other hand, knew it well.

“They will be able to remove them, cut your hair, and restore you to whom you once were.”

But they were empty words, devoid of meaning or desire. Already her hands had strayed to those erect nipples and were caressing them gently.

“You have to choose, Ani!”

The voice was urgent but Ani did not respond. She could not for she had ceased to exist months ago. Anne looked across at the window with the fluttering flag of freedom through it. Then she turned to the bed, walked across, lay on it and pulled on the bell rope by her side. Within a minute Perkins had entered.

“Perkins, I have rested quite enough. I need preparing!”

“Yes, ma’am. The Duke has decreed…”

“Stop! I care not what he has said. You shall prepare me to my instructions not his. Now listen carefully…”

And Perkins did listen, and she did follow those instructions. And an hour later she left her mistress to fetch the Duke of Norfolk just as her mistress had instructed her to.”

Anne Howard waited in the pitch black room. Her every action was concentrated on keeping conscious. Around her middle her wedding corset, lace to an excruciating thirteen and three quarters inches bit into her and sapped her. Her neck was similarly squeezed and stretched and although she lay on her front, her eyes gazed at the ceiling. Her feet, laced into the endpoint bedroom boots were strapped against her enormous, inviting buttocks whilst her arms, dead from the pressure, were twisted into the excruciating and elegant perfect reverse-prayer position. But the crowning glory of it all was for her husband, her derriere, lifted by a cushion for ease of access, open and ready for use, the hole painted with a pair of inviting red lips.

‘He shall remember his wedding night for all eternity!’ declared the Duchess of Norfolk, Anne Howard silently behind her fleur de bouche, as Anastasia Kolyakonova slept silently in her grave.

Postscript

Readers may be interested to note that I had originally intended quite a different ending to this tale and should you be dissatisfied with the one that I finally chose, perhaps a brief summary of the alternative might improve your demeanour. In my original ending, Anne was again naked and sent Perkins away, she went over to the window and saw the Russian Embassy and was fixed on her plan to escape. This she attempted but downstairs was met by her step-father, (who had guessed her intentions), and escorted back upstairs to wait for her husband. However, once upstairs, Perkins reveals that she is willing to help Anne in return for a passage to the USSR herself as she has longed to live the life of a free woman for many years. And so the two dress as maids, (extra costume procured by Perkins), and sneak across to the Embassy where Anne reveals who she is and is given sanctuary. Anne then goes to Moskva with Perkins and becomes something of a celebrity in a manner akin to Western women of our world who marry an Arab and then run away from the harsh life. She plans to have operations to reduce some of the enhancements made to her but not all the changes undergone in Britain can be reversed and a doctor advises her that if she stops corseting, she will have problems, so atrophied are her muscles. And so Anne becomes a film star in Soviet cinema portraying English women in adaptations of Shakespeare or Dickens and the great Russian heroines from Tolstoy and Pushkin. In time she becomes a member of the politburo and ambassador to London. There she meets up with Clare who is now widowed from her marriage to Cpt. Hope. And so it is that Anne takes her back to Moskva with her and they enter into a lesbian relationship of intense passion, living out the rest of their days in a beautiful dacha by a lake some hundred kilometres away from Moskva.

As I said, it’s up to you which you prefer. – DP

Links to all parts of the story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

8 thoughts on “The Tale of Anastasia: Part 8

      • Apologies, didn’t see your reply. I believe the biggest shift from a society in 1960s alt-England to 2010s time would be the invention of the computer and automation, like the issues and inventions we deal with today. Sources of status would transition from a noble class valuing people to valuing objects. This may do away with assistants and maidswomen, leading to Ladies of Leisure who are enforced not my maids but by caring (yet unforgiving) appliances in the state-of-the-art home while their husbands are away at work (auto-lacing machines, portable hair boutiques, neck corsets with shock collars inside for “encouragement”).

        In addition, if we work with your timeline, seeing Victorian stylings in 1960s would indicate that by 50 years later we would finally see the insurgence of minimalism. This strengthens my first argument and also posits that we may see even more surreal and extreme changes to the Ladies’ bodies, perhaps indicating a world that includes your fantastic Peach story on the fringe (the story that initially led me to your work).

        I can’t seem to find an email address anywhere on this site, but I’d be interested to get in dialogue with you about this. As a writer, you have a very interesting imagination and lovely prose.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Cafter, I would love to begin a correspondence and I like your ideas. Also, I am pleased that you enjoyed Peach as I have had very little feedback on that particular tale. The email address is davepotter77@yahoo.co.uk
        I am particularly intrigued by the idea of the maids being replaced by robots and also what more surreal and extreme changes can be made to the female form.

        Like

  1. I wonder what Miss Garner`s story is, did she married? How did she gain her status? Where did she acquire or why did she have her ethos? She looks like a mystery in this story.

    Like

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