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PART I

MARRIED BUT IN THRALL TO MY MISTRESS

1

Kept pure and frustrated

2

A strange Orgy

3

Caned by my mistress

4

Sabhu!

PART II

DISCIPLINED AND PREPARED - BUT FOR WHAT?

5

My breaking-in starts

6

I meet my companions

7

A disturbing conversation

8

Morning Performance

9

The pains and tribulations of "Morning Exercise"

10

More humiliation

11

Infibulated

PART III

THE "SLAVE MARKET"

12

Ursula takes her pick

13

Ursula takes her pleasure - but gives away nothing

14

Offered and inspected

15

"Nice and ready"

PART IV

IN "ASSIMILATION"

16

In the kennels

17

The Kennelboy

18

The coupling of Carole

19

My nipples - my teats!

PART V

IN "ASSIMILATION"

20

My first coupling

21

Recovery

22

Just another working bitch

23

The coupling of the beautiful mother and daughter

24

My final coupling

PART VI

IN "ASSIMILATION"

25

A change of venue

26

Expecting Happy Events!

27

Carole again

28

A terrible uncertainty

29

Brainwashed by Ursula

PART VII

IN "ASSIMILATION"

30

Taken home by Ursula

31

Desperate concerns

32

Shown off in London

33

The live demonstration

Epilogue

34

My final performance - or was it?

PART I

MARRIED BUT IN THRALL TO MY MISTRESS

1 - KEPT PURE AND FRUSTRATED

I jumped as I felt my sleeping husband's half erect manhood pressing against my bottom. Thank Heavens, I thought, that John was still asleep and was not groping for my beauty lips, locked as they were under Ursula's awful chastity belt.

How silly I had been, I thought, when carried away by the sheer excitement of being seduced by such an internationally sophisticated woman as the famous painter Ursula de Vere, I had agreed to sign an embarrassingly explicit Contract of Personal Service. John had been away abroad on one of his many long trips and I had regarded the contract as just a rather exciting joke.

But since then, every time I had tried to get away from Ursula's thraldom, she had threatened to send a copy of the humiliating contract to John - and, even worse to his mother and sister.

I would, I knew, do anything to stop her doing that - even allowing her to lock me into a chastity belt when she had to let me go home to get our house in the country ready for John's return.

I now gently pushed John back onto his side of the bed. How embarrassing it would be if he found out that another woman had locked his precious wife into a chastity belt. How on earth would I talk my way out of that?

He had only just returned from one of his long trips abroad and naturally had been looking forward to having sex with his beautiful and desirable young wife - just as I, too, had wanted to have sex with him. But, of course, I was not allowed to do so by my implacable Mistress. She controlled my body now - partly with a chastity belt and partly by fear of her cane.

'You're such a sensuous little creature, Emma,' she had said in her distinctive Slav accent, as she locked the horrible belt round my waist, 'that I can't trust you to keep yourself pure for your Mistress. But now, whether you like it or not, you're going to be kept as pure as a nun.'

'Oh, please, no, Madam,' I had begged.

'Oh, yes Emma, yes. And moreover I don't want you getting yourself into a family way.'

'But the pills, Madam,' I said, for Ursula had insisted on putting me on the pill as soon as she heard that John was coming back. 'Surely ... '

'You're such a silly girl, Emma, that I don't know whether I can trust you not to forget to take them, when I'm not there to see that you do. No, this way I can be doubly sure - for I've got some special plans for you when John goes away again - plans that I don't want to risk upsetting.'

'Special plans,' I had repeated. ' How exciting. What are they?'

'Never you mind, Emma. You'll just do as you're told.'

With that, I had to be satisfied, but I could not help wondering what my Mistress had in store for me that made her take such precautions.

I had been mystified in the past about how little I seemed to remember about what had happened on previous occasions when Ursula had had made special plans for me. My memory of them seemed strangely vague. Had she, I often wondered, perhaps had me hypnotised to forget what had happened, or kept me on some drug that would wipe out my memory.

I had strange half memories of being treated sometimes like a tart and sometimes like a dog. If I ever asked her about it, she would become very angry and start reaching for her cane - something that would soon shut me up.

Had I really been used for some shameful purpose? More likely, I told myself it was all just a dream - or a nightmare.

Fortunately, John had accepted my rather glib explanation that it was not the right time for me. Earlier, I had played with him and brought him to a climax, even though I knew that merely doing this would earn me nine strokes of the cane when Ursula made me confess to doing it. But it would have been eighteen if I had let him use my backside or my mouth. Even so, nine strokes! I resolved not to be brain washed into confessing it. Why, I thought, should I?

Whilst pleasuring him, I had let him see and suck my breasts, which he loved doing and which excited me madly too. But, of course, with my chastity belt firmly locked in place, there could be no fun and games for me, no relief. Indeed I had to concentrate on brushing his hands away from my waist and loins for fear that he felt the embarrassing and horribly humiliating chastity belt for which that Ursula had embarrassingly had me specially measured.

Beneath the thick woollen pants that I had specially put on under my satin pyjamas, I could feel the two flat steel chains pressing against my buttocks. They ran up from between my legs, leaving my rear orifice exposed, over my bottom and up to the strong wide rubber band, reinforced with stiff wire, that was locked round my waist by a little flat lock in the small of my back.

Down from the front of the rubber band, of course, ran the flat, cleverly shaped rubber flange, again reinforced with steel wire on the sides, that covered my mound. More to the point it also ran down between my legs to meet the two chains which ran up over my buttocks. Oh how I hated the long narrow slit in the flange, through which my beauty lips were forced and kept tightly compressed - and, hence, my beauty bud itself kept hidden away out of reach.

But even that was not all, for to stop me from using a vibrator merely on the my sensitive beauty lips, Ursula had insisted on the slit being covered with a curved plastic grille, through which not even a feather could penetrate. The plastic grille was hinged at the top and fastened at the bottom by a tiny padlock that hung down innocently between my legs.

Oh, how I hated the way that, in front of her admiring friends, Ursula would unlock the padlock and make me hold up the grille for her to show off my well guarded beauty lips, or to check that they were still as smooth and hairless as those of a little girl.

Oh, how I also hated the cruel way that she and friends would laugh as they saw how, to my embarrassment, my frustrated beauty lips would respond to their fingers by becoming moist and glistening with desire - just indeed as I could feel, beneath the horrible locked grille, that they were at this very moment responding to the nearness of John's aroused manhood.

Oh yes, it was a horribly clever way of keeping a girl pure and unsullied by a masculine manhood, and yet allowed her to spend a penny through the slit and on through the grille. And yet the belt was almost unnoticeable, anyway under panties, except of course to the touch.

Yes, there was little chance of it being detected by a man unless you were dancing with him - and if you were dancing with Ursula or one of her lady friends, then, they would, of course, just love feeling the way their partner was being kept frustrated and pure.

But the belt was not all that all that I was desperately anxious that my husband would not feel. Ursula also insisted that, when I was at home, I must still wear her flexible, shiny metal, dog collar locked round my neck, and hidden under a scarf. This, I knew, was largely psychological - to make sure that I never forgot that she was my Mistress.

Quite apart from constantly feeling it round my neck, I knew that on the front of the collar, next to the ring for attaching a lead, was a metal plaque engraved with Ursula's name, address and telephone number. I could not unfasten the collar for it was fastened with a little lock at the back to which only Ursula held the key.

Oh, how embarrassing it would be if John ever saw that inscription! It was so embarrassing having to hide the collar all the time - even in bed. Like the chastity belt, it constantly reminded me that, married woman or not, I belonged to Ursula. Oh, how she enjoyed having a married woman I her power!

Oh, how humiliating it was being sent home by my Mistress, deliberately still looked into the horrible and frustrating chastity belt and with her collar still locked round my neck.

Hesitantly, I put my hands down to the front of the chastity belt, and sucked in my tummy. But, I knew that it was a waste of time - the rubber flange was pressing far tightly against my skin to allow me even to get a little finger underneath it. Oh the frustration! Oh how I longed for a little relief! Oh what a cruel woman Ursula was!

And yet, I knew, it was largely because she kept me so frustrated that, husband not withstanding, I was so besotted by her.

I hated the embarrassing chastity belt. But having to wear it was, I realised, better than Ursula's threatened alternative.

'Yes, Emma,' I remembered she had said, 'the next time Doctor Anna comes back to London, I'm going to talk to her about having you sewn up.'

'Sewn up, Madam?' I had nervously queried.

'Yes, Emma, having Doctor Anna sew up your beauty lips.'

'Oh no!' I had cried out in horror.

'Oh yes! After all many Arabs girls are kept sewn up, and so why not you. Then even you were not locked into a chastity belt, you still couldn't deceive me behind my back by playing with your naughty little beauty bud. You wouldn't also not be able to allow your husband, or any other brute of a man, to drive his manhood up inside you - something I know you love, you little slut.'

'Oh no, Madam,' I had again gasped.

'Oh yes, Emma,' Ursula had laughed cruelly. 'Of course, Doctor Anna would have to write to your fool of husband saying that she had to operate on you in this way for special gynaecological reasons - but that would be no problem. Then I'd know that like it or not you simply could not possibly be unfaithful to me.'

'Oh!' I had cried out.

'And, moreover,' Ursula had calmly continued with a cruel laugh, 'if Doctor Anna also took the opportunity to snip off any protruding inner lips, your now nicely compressed, and hairless, outer lips would look just like those of an innocent little girl. It would be lovely!'

'Oh, no, please, Madam,' I had begged.

'Well, you'll have to make sure that you are faithful to me even when your husband is at home - or you'll be sewn up. You can play with him, provided you tell me afterwards, but it'll cost you the usual nine strokes of the cane - won't it?'

Dumbly I had nodded. Ursula's dreaded standard nine strokes! How often had I tried to lie to Ursula about pleasing John, but she had always got the truth out of me - and had then given me her standard nine strokes of the cane. They may not have always have been very hard ones, but they still stung like mad - and left a mark. Oh, how I hated that awful cane of hers. I even had nightmares about it. It seemed to have a malevolent life of it's own.

Ursula used her cane to punish me for the slightest fault: answering her back; forgetting to call her Madam; failing to lay out her silk pyjamas properly; being caught helping myself from one of her silver bowls of delicious chocolates; or not walking three paces behind her in the street - the list was endless, and all earned me, and married grown-up woman, the standard nine strokes.

It was not only the excruciating pain at the time. There was also the shame of it all - for invariably being beaten by my Mistress made me wet with arousal. There was also the highly embarrassing subsequent problem of hiding the marks on my bottom from my husband - and disguising the fact that for two whole days I could scarcely bare to sit down or lie on my back in bed.

'Of course,' Ursula had then gone on, 'it might be more amusing to have Doctor Anna just cut off the tip of your beauty bud. Girls make such a fuss about female circumcision, but it's a very effective of keeping them faithful. And such a simple little snip! And your dolt of a husband would probably not even notice what had been done to you. But you certainly would!'

Female circumcision! My God! What a terrible Sword of Damocles was hanging over my head.

Desperately trying to put all that out of mind, I thought back to the telephone call I had received that very evening from Ursula.

'Be at my house on Thursday at 2 p.m. sharp,' my Mistress had abruptly said.

Then without another word, not even to conform that I could get away, she had put the phone down, leaving me to tell John yet again, that Ursula wanted me to go up to London to give her a hand at the exhibition of her paintings.

Yes, I thought, it was so much easier to make excuses to meet your lover if she was woman, especially a much-admired painter. Even a jealous husband would not normally suspect the truth. But, oh, how these apparently innocent trysts would arouse the most exciting and secret feeling of anticipation - and fear! Now, I could hardly wait for Thursday.

Ursula's pictures, largely of half naked nubile young nubile women, were in great demand. Little suspecting the truth, John was delighted that Ursula had chosen me to be her part-time assistant - and model.

Very rich and highly intelligent, Ursula was a leading personality in the artistic world, a keen supporter of ballet and in particular of young penniless girl dancers.

Tall, with an angular almost boyish figure, dark hair, high cheekbones and a Slavonic accent, she was also a fervent and dominating lesbian who stood no nonsense from the young women in thrall to her - like me!