My Mistress

My Mistress

by A. M. L.



Finally, after almost two years of unemployment I had found my first job. Yes it took a while, but the job market isn’t a hospitable place for college drop-outs in this economy. Who hires a young woman with zero experience and no marketable skills to speak of? Zehra Mumir, that’s who.

She owned a Mumir Boutique, sold exclusive women’s clothing. One afternoon I happened to pass by her business and noticed a sign in the window, it said that the store was in need of an assistant saleswoman. This was in no way an opening I saw myself particularly suited for. However by this time I was long past desperation, willing to try anything. So without hesitation I went in to apply.

There I met Zehra Mumir for the first time. A beautiful woman of Turkish heritage, about thirty I guessed. She was remarkably fair for someone of Middle-Eastern origin and had these striking gray eyes. Zehra dressed both elegantly and very modest. Her fine features were framed by a silk headscarf, patterned with blue flowers and foliage. In conjunction with her floor-length skirt, blouse and satin gloves this meant her face was the only visible part of her slim body.

As soon as I had entered and saw her I started to seriously doubt a woman like that, who ran a business like this, would even remotely consider hiring someone like me. Around me I saw attire in styles popular with upper-class women, much of it quite colorful. My own garb was quite different. I was a Goth girl and not even an especially feminine one. I dressed in black but otherwise similar to a Punk chick; short skirt, fishnets, military boots, band-shirt, spiked belt. I even had the right side of my scalp shaved. No way this Muslimah would employ me.

But I was inside now. Might as well try, I thought. To my great surprise Miss Mumir led me to her office in the back for an interview. I hadn’t dare hope I’d get that far. Maybe she was just being polite, letting me down easy?

She asked some general questions about who I was and how I saw my possible employment at Mumir Boutique. Throughout all this the woman was very nice, in hindsight a bit too nice I think. And finally we reached the end of the interview.

“I believe I know all I need to know, I’m willing to hire you Sophia.”

“Really?” I was incredibly surprised.

“Yes, you seem like a fine young woman. You deserve a chance.”

“Thank you so much Miss Mumir!” I couldn’t believe this, I was overjoyed.

“Don’t thank me yet” my future boss warned. “I do have a condition.”

“Anything!” I wasn’t going to let this slip, I needed it.

“I want to restyle you” she said with a pleasant smile. “Are you willing to try something new with your appearance?”

“Sure.” This wasn’t unexpected to me, seemed only natural if I was to work here.

“Wonderful” she seemed quite pleased. “In that case you can start tomorrow. Please come early, lets say around 8. Then we have enough time to find you something to wear.”

After that she let me sign the necessary paperwork and we said our goodbyes. When I walked back to my apartment I was in the best mood in ages.


A little before 8 the next morning I entered Mumir Boutique. Miss Mumir greeted me, dressed just as modestly as the day before. I liked her headscarf, it had a green panther-spots pattern. I’ve always had a thing for animal prints.

She locked the door (the store wouldn’t open for customers until 10) and led me to the back of the store. On the counter were two paper shopping bags with the store’s logo on them, they were brimming with clothes.

“I’m a good judge of size. So I took the liberty to already select some outfits for you from my stock. All at my expense of course” she said.

“That’s very generous of you Miss Mumir” I knew the store’s prices were considerable. Those bags content might have been worth at the very least one month’s rent.

“Better work hard for me then” she winked.

“You can count on me” I smiled back at her.

“Good, now I’d like to start dressing you for today. Please undress.”

I started for the changing cubicles in another corner from the store. But Miss Mumir stopped me by gently grabbing my shoulder with her satin-clad hands.

“You can do it here” the woman told me. I hesitated at first.

“Don’t worry, this part of the store can’t be seen from the street” she assured me.

“Okay then” I complied.

For the occasion I had dressed as discrete as my colorless wardrobe allowed me. A plain long-sleeved top and simple black jeans. Which I now both removed as my new employer looked with a neutral smile.

“Underwear too please” she requested with that unassuming visage.

An odd request, and my face told Miss Mumir that I considered it so.

“You can’t wear cheap undies under this high quality clothing, it wouldn’t be right” she explained.

I guess that made sense. Although I had trouble understanding why I couldn’t do this in the changing room. Cultural differences seemed like a good reason at the time. As modest as a pious Muslimah was in public, as open they were among other women behind closed doors, I guessed. So again I honored my employer’s wishes, I removed my plain black panties and bra.

“You’re very pretty girl Sophia” my boss said with a warm smile as she beheld my nakedness. This made me blush a deep shade of pink. I felt conflicted. On the one hand it felt extremely uncomfortable to be so exposed before my brand-new boss. On the other hand I did enjoy the attention from such an alluring woman. Still I was quite relieved when she broke her stare and took a bundle of clothing from behind the counter.

“I noticed that you like black. You’ll be pleased to see it is one of the primary colors in your attire for today.” Then she started handing me my new clothes, piece by piece.

It started with lingerie, black satin with lace, black silk stockings too. The satin blouse that came next was white though. After that a long black skirt, quite loose and voluminous. The last item were a pair of black leather shoes, high heels. After I stepped into those I thought I was done.

“One more thing” she grabbed a large silk square from a nearby shelf. The scarf was white with black markings. “Let me tie it for you.”

Miss Mumir approached me and I let her apply the silk accessory around my neck. Except that isn’t what she did. She wound the scarf around me head, under my chin and then tied a double tight knot behind my neck. My silk-framed face showed visible shock at this turn of events.

“You didn’t think your hairstyle was appropriate for my kind of business, did you?”

To be honest I hadn’t given my hair much thought. I certainly hadn’t considered this as a solution. A solution I didn’t much care for at all. Few things were further from my Goth/Punk tastes than this silk headscarf.

“I have to wear this everyday?” I inquired solemnly.

“Well yes, for the time being” the other silk-wrapped woman answered just how I feared. “At least until your hair has grown enough to remodel it into a more fitting hairstyle.”

“However I wouldn’t be surprised if I keep seeing you in the hijab much longer than that. You might really start to like it after a while.” She flashed me a mischievous smile.

“I don’t know about that” I was obviously quite skeptical, but tried voicing it in a way that hopefully wouldn’t offend her.

“Come over here” she took my hand and guided me towards the full-length mirror she was standing in front of.

Looking at our reflection it struck me how similar we now looked. She had dressed me in more or less the same style she favored for herself. And our faces weren’t that different either, except that my eyes weren’t gray but brown. Zehra Mumir was also quite a bit taller than me. Although that could just be because of the high-heeled boots I’d seen peeking under her dress, they looked significantly higher than the ones I was wearing. Yes, we didn’t differ much at all now. I could be this stunning Muslimah’s younger sister.

“How beautiful you look” she softly spoke into my silk-covered ear. ‘Simply perfect” now she started to caress my cheek through the scarf. And I just let her. I didn’t mind, she had me entranced. How could a woman I saw so little of be so seductive?

“Will you give your new look a serious chance?” Zehra Mumir asked flirtatiously as she kept stroking my covered cheek and neck.

“Yes” I sighed in reply to this goddess.

“Thank you” and she kissed me on the mouth.


After that kiss Miss Mumir quickly broke her spell on me. We were again employer and employee. And that’s how it stayed throughout the day as I learned all about my new duties. At least outwardly. While working I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier. I had been seduced by my boss. Not only on my very first day of work ever, but in the first hour! And by a woman, who had appeared to be a religious Muslim woman. This meant she wasn’t right? I knew same-sex relations were a big no no in Islam. How was something like this happening at all possible?

The worst thing of all was, as I kept searching my feelings about what happened, I eventually realized I was completely infatuated with Zehra Mumir! How difficult it was to concentrate on my new job as I struggled with these feelings for a woman never much further than a few meters away.

Then finally at 6 came closing-time. Normally I would be required to stay a little longer to clean up. However since I came an hour earlier today Miss Mumir informed me I could go home already.

As I prepared to leave I first grabbed the bags containing my new work clothes and the ones I came in with. And then my hands went to the tight silk knot at the back of my neck. Before I could loosen the double knot the least bit, my hands were slapped away by my stunning employer.

“Remember your promise girl” she snapped. “I never want to see you without.”

It turned out she could be quite intimidating as well and not just because of the height difference, she radiated dominance in that moment.

“I’m sorry, you won’t” I stammered.

She slapped me in face. It didn’t hurt much, her satin gloves softened the blow. I was still quite shocked she’d do that though.

“You need to learn some manners girl” she reprimanded me. “From now on you’ll at all times refer to me as Miss Mumir.”

“Yes Miss Mumir” was the only reply it dared give to this sudden tongue lashing.

“Mistakes and bad behavior while in my employ will be punished” she informed me. “Good service will be rewarded.” Then she kissed me on the mouth and pushed her sweet tongue past my lips, in search of contact with my own.

That was my first day of work. So much had changed. My mind was in a whirl, I was in love I was under her spell. I left Mumir’s Boutique dressed so that even my closest friends would have trouble recognizing me. I didn’t mind though, cause I knew it pleased her. And I wanted nothing more than that.

Besides many people had to change the way they dressed for work, that’s how the world works. It was only a small sacrifice on my part, I was convinced it wouldn’t make much difference in my life at all.


The night that followed that eventful day was equally exciting. As I slept my dreams were sensual scenarios, all focused on that same enchanting woman. I don’t remember ever waking up as horny as the following morning. Urges I had to satisfy before I finally managed to get out of bed.

As I prepared to dress for work the next morning I noticed it hadn’t been a coincidence that my outfit of the day before had been so close to Miss Mumir’s style. All the clothes she’d selected for me were similarly all-covering. I supposed that made sense. That’s how women who wore headscarves dressed, so would I then.

For my second day of work I selected a long black dress and a purple silk headscarf decorated with tiger stripes and a few less definable shapes. I tied it around my head just as Miss Mumir had done the day before, tight and not a single hair showing.

A few minutes before 9 I arrived at the store. Miss Mumir greeted me and complimented me on how pretty I looked. I blushed and returned the compliment. She thanked me with a kiss on my cheek, which made my hart flutter. Any touch by her titillated me, even the most innocent of kisses.

As with the day before the opening hours of the store were busy but otherwise quite uneventful. Just an endless stream of customers to serve. By the time it was 6 I was already quite fatigued. However unlike the day before I had to persevere a little while longer. Everything still had to be put in order to start fresh the day after. It took another half an hour before I could finally return home.

“You’re aren’t going anywhere yet” Miss Mumir stopped me.

“Did I forget something Miss Mumir?” I inquired.

“It’s good to hear you addressing me properly this time” she gave me a warm smile. “Unfortunately you did forget a few times today. That means I have to punish you.” Her smile turned wicked and my knees became weak in response.

Then she grabbed my hands. Forced them behind my back. I felt her loop a scarf around my wrists. Pulled the silk tight against them.

Immediately I tested my bonds. There was no escape for my hands, they were securely restrained behind my back. I didn’t really mind. I was so turned on by these events. I couldn’t wait to experience whatever else Miss Mumir might have in store for me.

I saw her grab another scarf. She knotted it in the middle. And then brought the thick knot to my lips.

“Open up girl” she ordered.

I did exactly that, the silk knot entered my mouth. It got pushed quite deep once she tied the gag of behind my head. I gave a soft moan in response.

“Since you still lack the ability to speak properly, I thought it fitting you’d endure forced silence for a while.” She caressed my scarfed face. I closed my eyes in response to her soft touch.

“I counted three infractions today, so my idea was to leave you like this for three hours.” I wasn’t a fan of that idea at all. I enjoyed bondage games, but being tied and gagged that long didn’t sound remotely fun, just extremely uncomfortable.

“However that seemed neither practical nor fair.” That was a relief! “No I’ll let you go home now, and you keep the gag in until we open tomorrow morning.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wasn’t going to stay like this an entire night! I started protesting, not in a intelligible manner though, my scarf-gag saw to that. I also started struggling against my restraints. To no avail, my hands stayed where they were.

Miss Mumir’s response was to hug me. Hold me still and let me calm down. She didn’t stop there. Through my clothing she started caressing me in all the right places. It had the desired effect, my earlier panic vanished under a wave of pleasure.

“Do you like this job?” She spoke softly in my ear, I just nodded. “Do you like me?” My response was a loud moan.

“I like you too” she whispered seductively. “If you let me I’d like to be so much more than just your employer. Do you want that?”

“Yes!” Escaped muffled from my gagged lips.

“Then I’ll need your complete obedience in everything” the temptress informed me. “I want to be your mistress. Do you accept?”

I uttered something that vaguely sounded like: “Yes Mistress.” Followed by another loud moan. My new Mistress had talented hands.

“Here’s what’s going to happen” she started. “I’m going to untie your hands first, after which you can return home. You may however at no time remove or even loosen your gag. As a consequence your hijab will have to stay on as well. You’ll have to do without food, drink or brushing your teeth for a night. And taking a shower might be a challenge. But both scarves still need to be untouched when you return here in the morning. Can I trust you to obey?”

I nodded curtly, I didn’t want to disappoint my Mistress. But now that the fondling had stopped my mind started to fill with doubts. Was I really going to do this? My main concern was how I was going to fare walking home with my mouth visibly stuffed.

“And don’t worry about going out in public like this” she reassured me while she was releasing my hands. “I have no intention of humiliating you on the street. Not this time at least.” She smirked after that remark, but I wasn’t so sure she was just joking.

“No, I know just the solution” with a smile Mistress held up the black scarf that moments ago was still wrapped around my wrists. “Modesty can solve so many problems in a woman’s life.”

She started wrapping the fabric around my head, secured it with some pins. When she was done my gag, headscarf and even my face had all but disappeared. The black veil only left a thin stretch of my face free, just enough for my eyes to see.

“These will complete the niqabi look” Mistress handed me a couple of satin opera gloves, identical to those she wore herself.

Once I put the gloves the only part of me that wasn’t concealed by black fabric were my eyes and the space between them. I looked identical to those Arabian women you sometimes saw on the news.

“Have a nice walk home” she kissed me on the mouth, our lips trying to feel each other through a layer of silk. Again raising my level of excitement.

“I’ll see you back here at 9 tomorrow, with an untampered gag I trust.” And with that she put me out the door.

Walking the streets as a niqabi was a bizarre experience. You never saw a veiled woman in this town. So I got a lot of strange looks, some seemed quite hostile. I dearly hoped no one would try to talk to me. I wouldn’t be able to reply. Maybe I could pretend not to know the language in that case?

Another issue was the heat. It wasn’t a particularly warm night. But my head was wrapped in two layers of silk, three if you included my gag. I started to sweat profusely, there was a bit of drool too.

It was quite a relief when I came home, I could finally shed my outer layer. I removed the veil and my dress. The satin gloves stayed on a little while longer. As I looked in the mirror I thought they complimented my lingerie quite nicely.

That gagged and headscarfed girl in the mirror looked so sexy. I hoped my Mistress would think so, if only she were here. I had only just left her, but missed Miss Mumir’s company and touch already.

I couldn’t eat or drink tonight, there was one bodily urge I could satisfy though. That is how I filled much of that evening. Until I drifted of into a sleep again haunted by sensual dreams. Feeling the warm touch of my silk-covered head and lips throughout, my filthy mind added the rest.


The following morning I showered while keeping my head out of the water’s range. Although I probably couldn’t have gotten much more moist there anyway. A combination of the night’s drool and especially sweat saw to that. Before I got dressed I directed a good spraying of deodorant under my headscarf.

For my third day of work I selected another black dress quite similar to the one I wore the day before. Color coordinating with my veil left few other choices.

Applying my face-covering proved tricky. I didn’t have the knack for it Miss Mumir had, didn’t know what to do with those pins. But eventually I achieved a result similar enough to how I was veiled the night before. It covered what it really had to cover at least.

Walking the streets dressed like this a second time didn’t feel any less awkward than the day before. If anything it was worse. There were a lot more people on the street at this hour. An addition to a lot of stares I also got a few shouts and honks this time.

Still I reached Mumir’s Boutique just fine. And even better; Mistress beamed with pride for the fact I had followed her orders to the letter.

“Just like I left it yesterday” she said as she loosened the knot at the back of my head. “Will your manners now improve?”

“Yes Miss Mumir,… Mistress” the first comprehensible words I uttered in over 14 hours.

“Good girl!” She pored me a glass of water and brought it to my dry mouth. Finally drinking again felt almost as good as Mistress’s praise. It hadn’t been comfortable experience. But I was so happy now I’d followed through all the way.

Mistress now handed me a red silk square with some chaotic print. “You can go change your hijab.” I reached for the knot, she stopped. “Not here, in a changing room!”

“Yes Mistress.” Of course, I promised she would never see me without a headscarf. I didn’t dare imagine the severity of my punishment if I had broken that rule.

“You only know one way to tie it, isn’t that right Sophia?” I heard her say beyond the curtain.

“That’s true Mistress” I admitted.

“Go on Youtube tonight, there’s some tutorials there you can learn from.”

“I will Mistress.”

“Tomorrow I want you to look your best. On Friday I close early to attend a service at the mosque, you will join me.”

I didn’t know what to think of that. So far I assumed this was only some kind of kinky game. That Miss Mumir wasn’t really religious, but just toying around like couples that role-play as nun and priest in the bedroom. Only in a day to day way, as I knew some dedicated kinksters did. Was this upcoming mosque trip just the game becoming even more elaborate? Or was something else going on here? I didn’t know, so I saw only one possible choice: Obey!

“Yes Mistress!” I said as I exited the cubicle.

“Good” she said. “Just a reminder; I like that you refer to me as Mistress in private. Just remember it’s still Miss Mumir when others are around.”

“I understand Mistress.”

Soon after that we unlocked the store for customers. The start of an otherwise uneventful day.

When I got home I spent most of my evening looking up those Youtube tutorials Mistress had mentioned. There were quite a few. I picked those with ‘Turkish Hijab’ in the title. Apparently the kind of styles Miss Mumir favored. And I picked up at least a couple of new ways to fix my headscarf before I retired.

After I went to bed that night I actually started craving the excitement my punishment had brought 24 hours earlier. I was missing something.

I got up again and decided to remedy the situation. I wouldn’t gag myself. Yes the idea turned me on. But the drool and the dry mouth truly made it a punishment. I knew however that wearing a headscarf the entire night in itself didn’t prove uncomfortable.

After I reapplied my scarf and returned to bed I felt a lot better. It turned out that after only a few days I’d actually grown quite fond of trapping my head in its warm silky embrace. I associated its warmth with the love of my Mistress. She didn’t leave my dreams that night.


That morning I succeeded in fixing my headscarf in what I believed was a more elegant style. Something I learned on Youtube the night before involving a few pins. I had dressed in a red blouse, black skirt and my headscarf was red, white and blue. I hoped Mistress would find the overall result pleasing.

When I arrived at her business a little while later, I got the impression I’d succeeded. My Mistress didn’t go so far as to compliment me, however I did feel she liked what she saw. That wasn’t enough for me though. I yearned for some special attention from my gorgeous employer.

Unfortunately that day appeared to become an uneventful one. Except of course for the planned excursion to the mosque. I had high hopes I’d get treated to something special, before, during or after.

It wasn’t before, we just closed up and went. At the entrace of our town’s mosque she gave me the advice to just stay quiet and follow her lead.

I did just that. After removing our heels I first imitated Mistress doing a washing ritual. Later I listened to the sermon and made the same prayer motions the women around me made.

Especially the latter made me feel like such a fraud. I didn’t belong in this place among these people. Why was I here? Maybe this charade turned Mistress on, but it didn’t do anything for me. I hoped more fun was to come after the service.

Alas, once it was over Miss Mumir said her goodbyes. The only thing joining her this Friday afternoon got me was a simple thank you and a peck on the cheek.

The good news was that I got an early weekend. Unlike most stores Mumir Boutique didn’t open on Saturday, let alone Sunday. I was free to party hard two nights in a row. After the disappointment I just got, getting hammered with friends sounded like an awesome idea.


It so happened there was a Goth night at a local alternative club that evening. And all my friends would be there. For the first time in days I could go out in my own clothing; the standard short skirt and a band shirt. People would see my hair. I didn’t shirk my work attire entirely though. On a whim I also added a neck scarf as an accessory.

I had a blast that night, forgot all about Zehra Mumir. I danced, I joked around with my friends and drank more glasses of white wine than I could count. For once I didn’t have to watch my money, knowing I’d receive a nice wage soon.

Eventually I did get tired though. I think it was somewhere between 2 and 3 that I said goodnight to my friends and staggered home. Completely unaware that I was being followed.

Outside my building, as I was fumbling with my keys, I got grabbed from behind. I immediately started kicking and screaming, struggled as hard as I could. But already calmed down a moment later.

I saw it wasn’t a mugger or a rapist at all. It were my Mistress’s satin-clad hands that were holding me. Unexpected, but a wish come true.

I suppose she looked angry then, I didn’t notice. I just smiled at her sheepishly, just losing myself in her penetrating gaze. Not for long though.

Mistress took my neck scarf and turned it into a scarfhood. By which I mean that the scarf covered the entire head, face included. The light went out for me and I felt her tying it off tightly around my neck. A lot tighter than I was used to, I liked it.

There I was, blinded. At the mercy of this domineering woman I lusted after. My excitement was growing, I did my best to stay calm. She didn’t talk, I thought it prudent to stay silent as well. Enjoy this moment, not ruin it.

I heard her picking up my keys where I had dropped them a moment before. The door opened and I was led forward by a firm hand at my nape. Through the hallway, then into the elevator and out of it again. Mistress must have known my apartment number from the paperwork I’d filled out a few days earlier, she’d find her way. Soon enough I heard her use my keys again, we were at my door.

After entering she sat me down in a chair. It had to be my desk chair, it was the only one with armrests. My captor made use of them. She took my right hand and restrained it there, again using a silk scarf. I felt the same happening with my left hand moments later. My feet were next, secured to the chair’s base.

I felt her undo my blinding hood. After being blinded by the fabric I was now blinded by the light. A sharp pain hit my cheek. Before I knew what hit me another one. Very painful, it was an ungloved hand. Then I saw her furious face, still exquisite but also terrible.

“How dare you!” She yelled. “You’re dressed like a slut, reeking of alcohol. You betrayed me!”

I didn’t know what was going on. My face hurt and the woman I adored was raging against me. Tears were running down my face.

“I thought I saw something in you girl” her tirade continued. “I thought you would work at bettering your life?”

“I… I…” I wanted to defend myself, but didn’t know what to say. “I wanted to see my friends Mistress.”

“Dressed like that?” She used a sharp accusatory tone.

“How else?” I wondered aloud, still sobbing.

“I gave you a fortune worth of new clothing only a few days ago.”

“It’s weekend Mistress” was my defense.

“So?” Mistress was in my face. “You’re perfectly capable of wearing these in the weekend as well. I told you I never wanted to see you without your hijab. You agreed with this. Still I’ve seen you in public without just now. Why?”

“My friends” I uttered desperately. “My friends wouldn’t understand Mistress.”

“Peer pressure?” Miraculously her anger just died down suddenly as carefully she considered what I just said. “You couldn’t find the courage to face your friends wearing modest dress?”

Mistress sounded quite reasonable and understanding now. A look of relief formed on my tear stained face.

“Yes, that’s it Mistress” I answered her. “I just couldn’t face them in my work clothes Mistress.”

“I understand Sophia” Mistress gave me a warm smile as she stroked my hair. “I know the solution.”

With that she just walked off towards the kitchen. I heard her opening and closing drawers. Tied to the chair I couldn’t see what she was doing there.

When Mistress finally returned she stood behind my desk chair. She grabbed a bunch of my hair and then: Snip!

A few locks of my black colored hair fell on my lap.

“What are you doing!” I yelled.

“Helping you” Mistress replied calmly. “I’ll motivate you to keep your head covered.”

“You can’t do this” I wildly shook my torso back and forth, keeping my hair away from the scissors.

“I can, I will. I am your Mistress” she grabbed me by the neck. Succeeded in holding me still, she was surprisingly strong while I was drunk and tired. “I’m actually glad to hear you mind this. Considering you already shaved the side of your head, I wasn’t sure this would work as a motivator.”

Snip, snip, snip. More and more tresses were tumbling down.

“I don’t want you as my Mistress anymore” I shrieked desperately.

“You’re intoxicated” she didn’t stop cutting. “Not in a state of mind to make serious decisions like that.”

This is the point I just gave up. Judging by the amount of hair on the floor it was too late anyway. My hair was all but gone now. Reduced to not much more than uneven stubble. Moments later the scissors fell silent. It was done.

Mistress walked away again, this time to my bathroom. Again rummaging in drawers, opening and closing closets. Then I heard her return.

“I was looking for a razor, found something much better instead.” She held up a big tube of my depilatory lotion. “I heard about this new brand, supposedly the most effective on the market.”

“Please don’t use that on my head” I begged her. “It clearly says in the directions that it shouldn’t be used for that.”

“Don’t worry about that” she assured me. “I’ve looked into this product before, it isn’t dangerous to use on the scalp.”

I felt a big glob of the stuff hitting my sheared haircut, it felt cool. Mistress’s hands started spreading it all-over. The fight had gone out of me by this time, I didn’t resist anymore. The damage was done now anyway. Then it was over and Miss Mumir left me for a moment.

“Do you know why they say you can’t use this lotion for your head?” Mistress asked me from my bathroom, as she rinsed the creme sticking to her hands.

“I’ll probably get a nasty rash there thanks to you” I replied bitterly.

“No dermatological issues with this brand” she approached me again. “It really is the best. Also because it has a permanent effect.”

“What?” I felt sick to my stomach and not because of the liquor. This couldn’t be true, right?

“It actually kills hair follicles” she continued. “Not all of them in one go, still a considerable amount though.”

“No!” I cried out in horror.

“Yes!” Mistress bent over me, her face nearly touching mine. “It won’t really grow back, just thin patches of hair will return.”

“No, no, no!” I thrashed around in my bonds. I had to get free, wash this stuff off. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

It was all to no avail. I didn’t get free. And in the back of my mind I remembered the lotion’s instructions. It only needed a moment. My hair was gone already. Still I kept fighting, the mix of negative emotions that filled me didn’t leave another option. It didn’t stop Mistress from meanwhile rubbing the lotion and what was left of my hair away with a wet washcloth.

“Bitch! Bitch!” I kept screaming.

Then it went dark. I was being blindfolded, again with a silk scarf of course. After that was tied, a scarfgag followed. Cutting off my protests and profanities.

“I suggest you get some sleep” I heard her say. “We’ll talk in the morning. I hope you don’t mind me sleeping in your bed until then.”

I felt her lips kissing my forehead. Then I was alone.

I think I struggled for hours more. Mistress knew how to tie a scarf, as an item of clothing but also as a bondage restraint. I couldn’t get loose from the chair. And eventually I did fall asleep.

I wish I could say Miss Mumir’s cruel treatment had put an end to my erotic dreams of her. Not one bit. They were darker in theme now, but my subconscious lusted after her even more than before.

I was awoken by my blindfold slipping off. As my eyes fluttered open I saw someone kneeled in front of me. It was a naked woman. She was just as bald as I was. I recognized that face. Those eyes, those striking gray eyes. It was Zehra Mumir!

“Don’t you see?” My hairless Mistress had her hands in my lap and was gazing into my eyes. “I’ve used your creme. I wouldn’t do anything to you I don’t wish for myself.”

She pulled my gag down.

“Why?” Was my first word.

“It enforces modesty” she explained. “Which a woman’s duty according to the Holy Quran.”

“And what does the Quran say about seducing another woman?”

“Nothing actually” Mistress answered. “Women have certain freedoms men don’t have and vice versa.”

“This isn’t making any sense” I yelled out at her. “What is it that you want from me?”

“Everything” She leaned into me. I got a passionate kiss.

I didn’t resist her sweet tongue, I joined in. I closed my eyes. Her hands were undoing the knots that held me in the chair.

Once loose Mistress swiftly led (nearly dragged) me towards the bedroom. Towards hours of untold pleasure. It lasted until the end of the day.


It was Saturday night now. My Mistress and I were sitting at my living room table, facing each other. We were both dressed again, our smooth heads hidden by our headscarves. Wearing what until very recently I had considered my work clothes.

“You understand that this is how you’re to be dressed from now on” Mistress began. “At all times, no exceptions.”

“I do Mistress” I answered obediently.

“There is no more room for mistakes or defiance” she continued. “You accepted me as your Mistress, you chose to submit. Submission to me means submission to Allah, the Master of us all.”

“I understand Mistress.” It was weird how my point of view had changed so completely. Just agreeing with all this would have been unthinkable just a week ago. A day ago even.

“To be blunt; I’m forcibly converting you to Islam. My mission is to save your soul. I’ll make you into a Muslimah, as pious as they come.”

Miss Mumir’s words chilled me to the bone. She wanted me to surrender all control of my life to her. And she would transform me into something completely different. Sophia would cease to exist. In her stead there would only be a devout Muslim woman. Such a frightening thought.

“I accept Mistress” came out of my mouth automatically. Love and lust conquered the fear. I would submit, totally.

“Good” my response visibly pleased her. “We’ll take it in steps, bring you closer to God one week at a time. Every Friday we’ll go to the mosque together. Afterwards we’ll come back here and I’ll introduce a new adjustment to your life. Any questions?”

“No, thank you Mistress” I replied.

“I’ll take my leave then” Mistress got up. “I’ll see you again on Monday. Have a nice weekend.”

With that she left for home. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. What had I done? More importantly; what had Zehra Mumir done with me?


Monday morning I returned to Mumir Boutique. Filled with both anxiety and anticipation for what this second week would hold.

For the most part very little actually. Those days were devoid of punishment or intimacy. We just worked, Miss Mumir was my boss and I was her trusty employee.

She did give me a Quran though. Said I might want to read from it in my spare time. Not really, but I graciously accepted her gift anyway. I guess I would take a look at it, when I felt like it. Quran study wasn’t compulsory yet after all.

The only thing I did do different after my hours is keep my headscarf on at all times. I was now a full-time hijabi. Wore it to bed too, the shower was truly the only exception. The scarf’s silk embrace made me feel close to the woman I worshiped. And having a completely bare scalp was a weird feeling I just couldn’t adjust to. It wasn’t comfortable being uncovered. That worked out exactly like Mistress had hoped.

Finally Friday rolled around. We closed the store and we went to the mosque. It was a nearly identical experience to the week before. I kept quiet and imitated my Mistress when the situation called for it.

Then we went to my apartment. Where she would push my life a little further towards Islam. And hopefully fuck my brains out afterwards.

“Have you drunk any alcohol since last week” she inquired as we entered my home.

“No, I haven’t Mistress” was my truthful answer. I was only a social drinker and hadn’t seen any friends since the Friday before.

“Good girl” she complimented. “You’ll never do so again. As of this moment you’re forbidden to ever get intoxicated. No alcohol, no tobacco or other drugs.”

“Yes Mistress” I nodded obediently. I felt I could manage this new rule well enough. I already stopped smoking some months earlier and only rarely used any drugs. Completely stop drinking wouldn’t be an issue either.

“In addition we’ll get rid of any materials in your home that aren’t in accordance with your new lifestyle” Mistress proclaimed. “Today your liquor goes down the sink and your old clothes go in the garbage.”

“Mistress, can’t I give my clothing to charity?”

“No” she protested. “Those are sinful garments. They shouldn’t be left to corrupt another life, but destroyed.”

“Yes Mistress” that was harsh. It appeared Miss Mumir had a very low opinion of those that dressed like I once did. Whatever was it that sparked her interest in me anyway? I’m not that especially pretty I thought.

The next hour or so was spent bringing my apartment in order with the Muslimah’s newest edict. A couple bottles of wine and another with vodka were poured away. And much of my former clothing was rounded up and put in garbage bags.

My underwear tended to be left alone. All my tops, t-shirts, skirts (except the floor-length ones I got the week before), pants and even my military boots had to go. Not only immodesty was a reason to be thrown in the bags, lack of femininity was as well. Apparently the Quran forbid women to act or dress similar to men. I gained a lot of closet space that day.

Afterwards I did get my expected reward though. Hard to believe something so amazingly pleasurable wasn’t outlawed by the Quran. At least that’s how Miss Mumir liked to interpret it.


After the weekend my third week at Mumir’s Boutique wasn’t all that remarkable. It did start with another gift though. On Monday Miss Mumir gave me lots of new clothing as replacement of what was purged a few days before.

More blouses, dresses, skirts and silk scarves in the style I’d been wearing the last couple of weeks. A style I started to feel more and more comfortable with actually. I didn’t feel so aware anymore of what I was wearing. This incredibly bizarre predicament I got myself into started to feel normal.

Yes, I could see myself continue to live this way. At least if it was with Mistress at my side. It was all for her.

Then it was Friday again. The day we visited the mosque. The day I would be ordered to take another step in my forced Muslimah transformation.

“It will get a lot harder from now on” Mistress warned me, we were sitting in my living room. “Can I still count of your obedience?”

“Yes Mistress, absolutely!” In the back of my mind I wasn’t that convinced. Things had already been plenty hard. The notion that it was going to get that much worse was an ominous one. How far would this go?

“Today we’ll complete what we started a week ago” she said. “Your home is still full of items that are considered haram, forbidden by Islam. By tonight they will all be gone.”

“Like what Mistress?” With immodest clothing and liquor removed I had no idea how my apartment could still be full of such. I already quit pork forever too.

“Anything that shows immoral behavior” said Mistress. “That will include most of your movies, books and games. Until I’m confident you have the necessary self discipline we’ll have to cut off your Internet and cable access too.”

“Yes Mistress” what else could I say? Living without without all that was going to be far from pleasant. But it wasn’t as if I had a choice in this. The woman I adored demanded this, I would give it to her.

“Your music collection has to go as well.” Mistress added.

“What?” I blurted out in surprise. “Muslims listen to music.”

“Unfortunately a lot of so-called Muslims only mind Allah’s will to the extent that they find it convenient” she replied. “The Quran clearly prohibits music made by instruments. Singing and other natural sounds are allowed, in case you have any records that include only that.”

I didn’t, there were undoubtedly instruments to be heard on each and every track in my possession. I’d lose everything.

“How am I supposed to pass the time if I lose all this Mistress?” I protested.

“You’ll be fine” she assured me. “There’s plenty of halal ways to spend the time. Reading your Quran is the finest one of them all.”

What followed was the most painful thing Mistress had me do so far. Even losing my hair paled in comparison. My DVDs, most of my books, games and worst of all; my entire CD collection, it all got thrown out. Relaxing at home with Bauhaus, Cinema Strange, Lebanon Hanover, She Past Away, Christian Death,… as company, I could do so no more. All the music I bought over the years was being deleted or would end up in a thrash incinerator. Both my modem and my TV cable Mistress stashed in her purse.

Once we were finished I felt devastated. Everything I loved had just been removed from my life. Why did I go along with this? Yes, to please my Mistress. The one thing that I had left.

Now I anticipated she would please me in turn. Something Miss Mumir had a great talent for. We both sat on my bed, it was almost time now.

“I haven’t punished you in a while now Sophia” she broke the silence.

“I suppose you haven’t Mistress.” I tried to hold my smile in. It appeared she’d add a BDSM element today.

“It isn’t because you haven’t deserved punishment” Mistress continued. “You do. Addressing me properly and questioning my will has been a continued problem. However I feel it is more effective to make disobedience and sinning impossible than to punish it after the fact. Do you agree?”

“Yes Mistress” without really getting what this was about.

“Good” she smiled. “It’s a harder road, but it will undoubtedly lead to paradise.”

With that Mistress started to unbutton my blouse. My bra was soon undone as well. It only got sweeter after that. For the next few hours I was already in paradise. I certainly spent that time in the arms of an angel. In the throes of ecstasy I couldn’t worry about how much more my life would change.


The way I led my life now was supposed to get me into Heaven, but by my fourth week at Mumir Boutique it started to feel like Hell. I was so incredibly bored!

When I got home I couldn’t listen to music or watch TV. No Internet either, which meant no contact with my friends. I guess I could meet them face to face. But no, not dressed like this. How would I begin to explain that? Nothing to read either, except a few of my own history books and the Quran of course.

I did read it quite a bit. So many regulations in there! They didn’t all apply to me though. Some rules didn’t even apply to anyone living in the 21st century. Because for instance nobody owned slaves anymore.

Then again, didn’t Zehra Mumir own a slave? Sure, she paid me. But she dominated my life completely too. I couldn’t spend my money in any way I really wanted.

Still, although the part that resented my way of life is very vocal in this story, it wasn’t in control. The part that wanted to be dominated by my Mistress was. It was a difficult week, but never did I try to make it easier on myself by secretly disobeying her. If I really wanted to I could have gotten on the Internet or listened to some of my favorite music. I didn’t do anything like that.

After a hard days work I lived exactly like Mistress now expected from me. I kept dressed like she wanted me to, only my face uncovered. And didn’t do anything she so far had outlawed.

It was more than just love or lust for this woman that compels me. I started to realize part of me was craving these restrictions. I wasn’t religious, but I did want to be forced into this. Please Mistress, make me your Muslimah slave!

By Friday this revelation had seeped in, it helped me a lot. As we returned from the mosque to my apartment I didn’t feel the anxiety I had previously. I knew Mistress would add to my burden mere moments from now. But I didn’t mind. I had started to truly accept what was to become of me. Sophia disappearing into a pious Muslim girl wasn’t a terrifying prospect anymore, it was now my mission.

As we arrived she immediately fished a tube of depilatory lotion out of her handbag. The super-effective kind we both applied to our scalps a few weeks before.

“I already used it this morning” she informed me. “We might need to do it again a third time, but certainly not a fourth time.”

“I’ll get right to it Mistress” I said she handed the lotion over to me. I took into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Mistress still didn’t care for seeing me without a headscarf or me seeing her without. We both even kept it on during our lovemaking.

I had absolutely no problem using this product on my head again. As I removed my scarf it was clear I had nothing to lose now anyway. My stubble made it clear. If I tried to regrow it in this condition my hairdo would be very thin with many bald patches. Might as well kill it all.

So I again applied the stuff to my scalp, left it there for a few minutes and then rinsed it off.

“Oh no” I looked into the mirror. I had gotten the lotion on my eyebrows as well. They would be gone forever too. Came as quite a shock at first. My pale head looked so odd now that even last the vestiges of hair had vanished. Then again it had its appeal, I thought it gave me an unearthly allure, an alien beauty.

Didn’t matter anyway, nobody would ever see me like this. Mistress had made me a Muslimah, I always wore a hijab. And I could either pull the silk further down over my forehead or draw eyebrows with eyeliner. So I got dressed again and did exactly that.

As I exited my bathroom it seemed Mistress was quite fond of my artificial eyebrows. We ended up in the bedroom almost instantly after.

As we were undressing each other, I for a moment considered how small a step in my transformation we’d taken this Friday. Just finishing something we’d already handled at the end of the first week. Did this mean I was almost there? My conversion to the perfect Muslim girl was nearly complete? I suppose that made sense. Although now that I fully accepted my fate, it came as a disappointment as well. I needed my life to become even more strict and controlled, lusted after it.

But soon a more immediate lust vanquished these thoughts. Mistress had set my pussy on fire. I lost myself in the moment. The naked bodies that carried our covered heads intertwined.

Later that night we were resting in each others arms when Mistress finally got up. To me this always signaled she’d leave soon. Our next coupling was now an entire week away. Downcast I reached for my clothing.

“No, not just yet” Mistress herself reached for her handbag. From it she got a shiny metal contraption. “You know what this is?”

“No Mistress” I didn’t at first. But then I got a better look at it. They looked like steel panties. “A chastity belt?”

“See, you do know” said Mistress. “It’s to protect your decency. This will keep you safe 24/7.”

“So I am to wear it permanently Mistress?” I must have sounded worried, I felt quite conflicted about the belt.

“As good as” she answered. “This device is built so that you can still clean yourself while wearing it. You don’t ever have to remove it. However I’ll have the keys and may choose to use them from time to time.”

“I understand Mistress.” I wished Mistress would control me even more and that was exactly what I got. However it worried me that I lost yet another way to blow off steam. Still the obedient Muslimah in me did exactly what Mistress expected from me. I let Mistress lock away my private parts. They were now trapped in cold steel.


The week that followed was even more challenging than the one that preceded it. I always had a healthy libido, but as soon as I was locked into my chastity device I was crazy horny most of the time. The sick thing is that just the notion in itself of my sex being locked away, being denied sexual release by Mistress, excited me tremendously. And that was just my Saturday.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, the pressure inside my pussy had grown manifold. Spending my entire day in the presence of my cruel yet sensuous captor brought my hopeless arousal to a point I didn’t think humanly possible. Under my modest dress I was absolutely boiling. I was in an exquisite combination of Heaven and Hell, agony and pleasure. And I knew it wouldn’t end, only get worse.

Most of my spare time I spent reading my Quran. What else could I do? I knew it would please my Mistress and hoped it would distract me from my plight. It didn’t.

But reading the holy texts in my current state of mind did do something. I really got into it. The words now resonated with me in a way few things had before. I felt like I was brainwashing myself.

I was sure that if I continued down this path I wouldn’t just be living like a Muslimah for the sake of my Mistress. I’d become a strict Muslim in my own right. I felt my secular beliefs crumbling in the face of the power of Islam.

Something else I kept thinking about is how nuns supposedly orgasm when they take their vows. At that point I really craved a religious experience that intense. I didn’t get one though.

After a week of suffering it was Friday. Mosque day, new restrictions day and I hoped dearly also sex day. I felt close to exploding.

As we left the store for Friday prayers I noticed Miss Mumir was carrying considerably more luggage than just her purse. She also had a couple of shopping bags with her. It was only back home I found out what they contained.

“The next step you won’t be taking alone” she started. “It’s something I wanted to do for a very long time now. I didn’t cause I’d be the only one in town and also because of my customers.”

“What is it Mistress?” My curiosity was certainly piqued. It sounded like it could be something very exciting.

“We’re going to become niqabi’s” she answered. “Take up face-veiling. Now I won’t be alone and we can take them off during business hours.”

This was more or less what I had expected. And as far as I knew not something that would really bother me. I had done this before after all.

“I must warn you that our dress will be far more restrictive than with the improvised niqab you once wore to hide your gag. Let me dress you and you’ll see for yourself.”

From one of her shopping bags Mistress took a bunch of black satin fabric. She unfolded it, the black satin was in fact a long black dress. She let me put my head through. As it fell down I noticed it covered my other clothing completely.

“This is an abaya, an over-dress” Miss Mumir explained. “Since you’re already wearing gloves I only need to add your new face-veil.”

Then she put the niqab over my head and tied it at the back. Both my headscarf and my face was nearly completely covered in black satin. Only a thin slit showed my brown eyes.

“This is the first of its three layers. This will be sufficient when you’re in private.” Then Mistress flipped down a layer of black gauze over my already covered face.

I could still see well enough, like looking through sunglasses. A bit claustrophobic though, especially now that I felt the heat build up under my new garments.

“Whenever you’re in public you’ll wear at least the second layer down.”

After that Mistress lowered the third and final veil over my face. I couldn’t see anything anymore. Just enough light and dark to find my windows.

“Ideally though you’d always wear all three veils down when in public. However for that you would need someone to guide you around whenever you exited your home. Maybe we can arrange this one day.”

“Yes Mistress” I said sweating behind my many veils. The thought of my Mistress guiding me blindveiled through the streets aroused me immensely. Not that I was difficult arouse since last Friday. I heavily anticipated my reward for being a good Muslim girl another week.

Soon enough Mistress was undressing me again. All the way down to my stiff nipples and wet pussy, unlocking me. As always we both kept our hijab on. Mistress even bid me to keep my niqab on, the blinding veil still down. It didn’t see a thing. But I without a doubt experienced the most intense pleasures ever.

I never saw her leave afterwards. I had to stay behind my satin curtain of darkness. I felt my girl-parts being locked away again. Heard her dress herself, adding her own abaya and niqab I think. My front door that closed behind her, then only silence.


I had a new nickname for myself; the Horny Ghost. Just a yearning, burning clit under black fabric. That was what I was most of the time now. There were only three places in the world where something remotely recognizable as the old Sophia still existed: Mumir Boutique (and only from 10 till 6), my bedroom and my bathroom. Everywhere else I was just a black ghost to the world and an incredibly aroused one under all my layers of clothing.

This was my sixth week working for Zehra Mumir and the restrictions she had put me through had long since passed extreme. Still I had adjusted quite well by then. Except for the severe lack of sexual release I was now more or less used to everything my Mistress put me through.

Starting to wear niqab all the time wasn’t much of a challenge at all. It felt like the easiest adjustment since this whole thing got started. Shows how much I had changed by then.

I’m sure I got stared at a lot on the street. But with an eye-veil down that sort of thing wasn’t all that noticeable. Same thing with negative remarks, my ears had enough satin and silk over them to dampen most of that to an incomprehensible murmur. They would have to shout at my covered face to make their Islamophobia clearly heard. Which fortunately never happened.

And yes I was also the Hot Ghost, the Sweating Ghost, the Melting Ghost. It was summertime. Nothing I couldn’t handle however. The temperature was still fairly moderate compared to the desert climate the majority of niqabi’s called home. If they could dress like that there, I could do it here.

I got the impression my boss also adjusted quite well. Mistress didn’t appear to need any kind of support from me. I guess she was just happy she didn’t have take this step alone.

Personally I was the happiest I’d been in weeks. As far as I could tell we’d succeeded. I was now the perfect Muslimah, completely according to my Mistress’s wishes. The difficult part was past me. The only thing I had to do now was persist in my devotion. Something I believed would only get easier with time. As I got increasingly used to live a sinless life in veils.

So no, once we returned to my home from the mosque the following Friday I wasn’t expecting anything new. Just being unlocked for a few hours and sex, sex, sex!

Thanks to all my wishful thinking I hadn’t noticed Mistress carried an extra bag with her. Not a big one however, radical changes can come in small packages.

“I’m proud of you Sophia” Miss Mumir started. “Look how far you’ve come in only six weeks.”

“Thank you Mistress” smiling broadly behind my veil.

“Today I would like you to take the next step” she continued. “The final step.”

I just nodded. Having no idea what extra step could be taken. Lets just get it over with quickly, whatever it was. I needed my release!

“You’ve done everything I wanted from you. Everything our Creator demands from womankind. The thing is that you’ve done it all for me, not for Allah.”

“Is that a problem Mistress?” I asked.

“If we are to assure your place in paradise, it might be” she answered. “God sees everything, not just your veils, the heart as well. I was wondering if in order to mend this you’d go on a special retreat with me?”

“I would Mistress” I said enthusiastically. In my mind taking this trip meant sharing a bed with my beloved nightly.

“Good” those amazing gray eyes above her face-veil showed me she was pleased. “I’ll leave the store closed for as long as we need. We can already leave tonight.”

“Great!” I was so excited.

“We’re staying with a friend of mine” Mistress informed me. “A full-time niqabi of the strictest kind. She’ll undoubtedly make you come to terms with Islam completely. Body, mind, heart and soul.”

That made me a bit anxious. How could this woman exert such influence over me? Her methods would undoubtedly have to go a step beyond those of my Mistress. That was hard to imagine. Scary.

“As part of this process she will require you to wear some additional accessories under your veils.” Mistress Mumir pulled a big leather belt from the bag. It had a couple of metal rings attached to its front. No not rings, they were handcuffs! Mistress’s friend appeared to be just as kinky in her methods as she. This could be fun!

A second later she produced a heavy-duty latex hood. Could this friend be even kinkier? This will be fun!

“I will not lie to you” she held up the black latex garment. “Wearing this will be a serious challenge. This is a sensory deprivation hood designed for long-term wear. And it comes with this gag.” The final item the bag held appeared to be a black silicone gag with two leather straps. The gagging part was a large protrusion with grooves to rest my teeth in.

“I want you to put these on. But I won’t force you. This last step towards your salvation has to be completely voluntary. Do you understand Sophia?”

“I do Mistress” only modestly affected by her grave tone.

“Good” she decided. “I’ll go out for half an hour. In that time I’d like you to remove your veils and use that hair-removal creme a final time. Then you can put in your gag and restrain yourself with the belt. If you want to that is” Mistress paused. “If you do this, there will be no going back. I’ll put the hood on you and we’ll be of soon after. However if you choose not to go along with this… We’ll have to reevaluate our relationship.”

No, I did not like the sound of that. She made my trip in bondage-gear sound scary, but not as frightening as the reevaluation she mentioned. I didn’t want to lose her, I couldn’t survive without Zehra Mumir in my life. I’d do exactly what she wanted from me. So once she left I immediately went to work.

I removed my face-veil, abaya and silk headscarf and went to the bathroom. My first glance at the mirror made it seem my scalp didn’t need the depilatory lotion a third time. I looked entirely hairless, my head fair and smooth as can be. But on closer inspection I saw there were a few hairs left here and there, thin and frail. Soon to be gone forever as I smeared the creme over them a last time.

After I rinsed it off the gag was next. It was unlike any I’d ever seen before, not at all like a typical ball-gag. The straps didn’t have a buckle, just a catch with a lock in it. This had to be the right fit, cause I wouldn’t be able to adjust it.

I brought it to my mouth. Time to give up talking. Probably until we retired for the night or my next meal at the Mistress’s friend house I thought. The protrusion felt to be perfectly molded to fill the entirety of my mouth. My teeth fitted in the grooves and my tongue rested under it. I could even still breathe through my mouth. A few small holes ran through the gag.

Then I tried to lock it. I had to pull hard at the straps, they were uncomfortably pressing into my pale cheeks. Until both ends met at the back of my head. CLICK

I was locked into this gag now, no idea for how long. I tried, I really couldn’t make a sound with my mouth completely filled and tongue immobile.

Time to move on to the next locking restraint; the belt with the cuffs. Which I first tightly buckled around my waist. Each handcuff was now positioned at one of my sides. Restraing my left hand was easy enough. The right one would take some doing. I decided to push the cuff closed against a bathroom cupboard. But first I paused for a second.

Did I really want to do this? I don’t know exactly what Mistress and that strict niqabi had in store for me. And it will undoubtedly push my boundaries, Mistress made that quite clear. Whatever it was, once this second cuff closed I would be helpless to stop it or even protest. Was I going to go through with this?

Yes! Everything for Zehra Mumir. CLICK


Then it started sinking in. Panic. What had I done?

The second that it was too late, after six weeks the voice of reason, the old Sophia came to the fore. Yes I was infatuated with Miss Mumir, an absolute beauty. But was that worth everything she’d done to me, the complete anhillation of who I was? Everything I cared about, my entire life was gone, destroyed. Things couldn’t even go back to how it was before again. Every physical thing I cared about had been thrown out. Everyone that cared about me hadn’t had any contact in over a month, some probably already forgetting about me. I didn’t have a single hair on my head, never would again!

As if all that hadn’t been deranged enough, I had a real bad feeling about what was coming now. That other part of my brain that was entirely devoted to Mistress, tried to push rebellious Sophia down and away again. Get the subservient Muslim girl side of me back in control. But it just didn’t work. I was overwhelmed by fear. I felt trapped, I had done this to myself!

I needed to do something. So I ran into the kitchen. Looking for a sharp knife. First I could cut through the belt, more or less freeing my hands. After that cutting the gag’s strap would be easy enough I thought. I should have minded the time.

Before I even grasped a knife I heard someone use my keys outside the apartment’s door. Mumir was back already. I froze.

A moment later she entered the kitchen. “Looking for something to eat? If properly mushed up that is indeed possible with this gag, as is drinking. It’s so designed that one could in fact wear it for years” she winked wickedly behind her veil.

I looked at her in fear. Attempted to get past her, run off. Get out the apartment, on to the street and get help.

I didn’t even get out of the room. She just grabbed me with those strong arms of her. Pushed me into a corner and held me there with just one hand. In the other my captor held the black latex hood.

A nasty looking thing. No eye-holes, only small ones for my nostrils and mouth (gag). Some small electronic gadgets where the ears would be positioned. And a big firm strap that locks around the wearers neck. I didn’t want that thing on me. This wasn’t kinky anymore, only scary.

I tried to protest, scream my objections. But literally no sound escaped my mouth. Not the slightest noise. Anything my vocal cords produced never got beyond the throat. I was at the mercy of this black satin phantom.

With her right she grabbed me by the neck, nearly choking me. With her left slowly lowering that nightmarish thing over my bare head. First the light went out, then the sound went away.

The fingers buried in my neck loosened. They were replaced by a cruelly tight strap a moment later. I imagined I heard the final CLICK!

I didn’t really though, internal earplugs made me utterly deaf in that hood. I was entirely sightless too. My face compressed into the latex, sensing nothing but its penetrating smell. And then there was the heat, it was hellish.

But Hell comes in levels they say. I sunk a level deeper once my headscarf was reapplied, another level with my abaya, the hottest abyss when finally my niqab topped it all off.

I didn’t see or hear the demon that put me through all this anymore, I felt her. She was leading me away, outside I guess. I should have resisted, I couldn’t. I was blind, shackled and the heat drained me of all my energy. That she-devil had made me truly helpless.

I was sat down in a car. W drove quite a while too. No idea how long, time is impossible to tell if you don’t have your senses.

Finally we arrived somewhere and I guess led into another building. Where I was sat down on a mattress. My feet shackled with chains to some ring in the floor nearby. Carpeted I felt, after my shoes were taken off. That was the only thing that was removed though. The darkness of my latex hell didn’t get any cooler. The weight entrapping my head didn’t decrease either.

And then I got an enormous shock.

The first sound in hours, loud and clear. A female voice. My Mistress!

No not at all I quickly realized. It was a recording, an audiobook apparently. I heard a young woman read the Quran to me, in two languages. Every sentence was first read in Arabic, then in English.

That’s the last thing that ever happened to me. The audiobook hasn’t stopped since, it just keeps repeating itself. I don’t hear it just every waking moment, it fills my dreams as well. In those dark erotic dreams of veiled she-devils I kept hearing about God and his Prophet.

Babyfood was squirted into my useless mouth about three times a reading, water twice as much. After I heard the Holy Quran almost seven times I was completely undressed, except for my confining hood. My hands were handcuffed behind my back by someone wearing rubber gloves. I was pushed under a cold shower and cleaned. Then back to the mattress until almost another seven readings had past.

This was my my life now. No not life, simply existence.

When will you come back for me Mistress?


Zehra Mumir looked down at the hard-breathing pile of satin on the mattress. Except for a colorful silk hijab the Turkish woman had removed all her veils. There was no need for them anymore. Very unlike Sister Aisha next to her, as pious as they came she was. Something Zehra envied actually, she knew it was right to live like Aisha did. But she didn’t have the strength. Fortunately she had her own unique way to make it up to Allah. The latest product of which was now hearing the introduction to a Quran audiobook.

Aisha’s latex gloves peeked from under her abaya, shackled to her middle with a sturdy chain. She did that to herself. The niqabi was writing a note, the only way the gagged Muslimah ever communicated with anyone. A moment later she past it to her friend. It said:

Congratulations Mistress, another poor soul saved. And so fast too, in only six weeks! Allah has truly gifted you with an amazing talent.

“Thank you sister” Zehra smiled. “I hope He is pleased with me. It isn’t as difficult as you’d think though. The greater an unbeliever’s sin the weaker they are, helpless. And she was truly a great sinner. You should have seen her when she first entered my business; a Satanic whore! And clearly perverted to the core. I did have to do some things I’m not proud of to ensnare her though” Zehra blushed. “But I think you’ll agree it was worth it.”

“Nobody will trace her disappearance back to us” Zehra assured her veiled friend. “I cut her off from everyone she knew some time ago. And the woman I had working for me the last weeks will not at all fit the description of this missing Sophia. Her employment with me was never officially registered. Got her wage wired from a bank account I can not be linked to. If need be I know how to quickly disappear though.”

“We’ll keep her like this a couple of months” she continued. “By then the poetry of Holy Quran will have sufficiently shaped her mind. And I’ll send her abroad for marriage, she’ll be the perfect Muslimah. It worked for you, it’ll work with Fatima here and with the next girl.”

One thought on “My Mistress

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