The Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour – Part Four
by Dave Potter
Chapter 27- The Butterfly Awakens
Time passed neither quickly nor slowly within the chrysalis. Sometimes, Anna Rosa wondered if it passed at all. Night and day no longer had any meaning and, as the hours moved by, increasingly, neither did consciousness. When she slept and when she woke seemed to blur into one another, so similar were the states, with blackness predominating and her imagination taking over.
What she dreamt of during those long black hours, she is now not sure of. Many of those dreams were of her future. She dreamt of a large house, perhaps in the mountains, which she shared with a husband who loved and in which she lived, all her life. She dreamt of the veils that she would wear, layer upon layer of them, silken veils that caressed her face and excited her whilst at the same time blinding her… She dreamt of waiting, silently kneeling for hours and hours, until those veils were unpeeled one by one and she could see her beloved’s face, and he would pop the gag out of her mouth, envelope her in his arms and kiss her lips tenderly…
It was when she reached this point in her dreams that she entered another realm entirely…
Day after day she existed, nothing else, floating in a sea of veils and dreams, waiting patiently until the big day came when the butterfly would be born. She never felt, saw, smelt or heard anything. Her life was a void between her old identity and her new one…
Then one day – or perhaps it was a night? – she noticed that something was different. She couldn’t say what exactly, but something had changed. She tried to restore herself to a state of full consciousness, but it was so long since she had done so, and things were so… absent… in the chrysalis, that it was difficult. However, more and more things began to change. The temperature, oh so slightly, and then the view. It was still pitch black, but perhaps not as black as previously. Then came the pressure all around her, it was lessening, and finally she felt her body being moved. She was picked up, lain on a bed and left. Dreamworld resumed.
Some hours – or possibly days – later, the process continued. She felt the veils being stripped from her and she began to see. At first the light was blinding, but she slowly adjusted her eyes. It was night and their was no light on, but so used to blackness had she been that this had appeared like the glare of the sun at first. Silently, all her apparel was stripped from her and her breathing, feeding and waste tubes removed. When she was completely naked, she was picked up and taken to a bathroom, also unlit. Then she was lowered into a large bath of warm water. After such a long confinement her skin was extra-sensitive and tingled as it came into contact with the air and water. She was left lying there for hours, the water constantly recycled through some sort of Jacuzzi at the foot of the bath. The sound of its bubbles were the only thing that she heard.
As she re-entered the world, Anna Rosa started to flex her muscles. They all worked still, but it was strange after so long a period of inactivity. As the hours passed, the lighting slowly changed so that when she was lifted out again, her skin crinkly, it was almost as light as day. She was carried back to the bed and there she slept again, for how long, she could not say.
When she awoke the second time she was almost back to normal. A shrouded maid bought her breakfast, some rolls and butter accompanied by orange juice. She devoured them greedily, her throat revelling in the sensation of tastes after so long on a liquid diet. Then she was led to the bathroom again and as she lay, the shrouded maid washed and conditioned her hair. Then she was towelled down and walked back to the bedroom. The blinds were pulled back, but nets hid the outside world from view. What was inside the room however, interested her far more. It was her father.
Anna Rosa couldn’t believe her eyes! She wanted to rush forward and hug him, but her training taught her better. Obediently, she knelt down, her head touching the floor. Much to her relief, he simply said “Rise my daughter, I am proud of you!” and then enveloped her in his arms.
After they had embraced for several minutes, Miguel de la Torre explained the situation to his daughter. “Anna, you are no longer in that school, but instead back in Bogota, in a house belonging to you fiancé that is across the square from the cathedral. You were transported all the way in that cocoon, by aeroplane. Today is your wedding day my daughter, I am so proud for in but a few hours I shall be escorting you down the aisle on the most important day of your life. But first, you must dress, and it is not right that I see that. Adios my daughter, we will meet again soon!”
Chapter 28 – Dressing for the Big Day
Anna Rosa felt like crying that her father, whom she had been without for so long, was departing almost straight away, but she remembered her training and just about managed to stay the tears. Besides, like her said, they would be together soon enough and it was not proper that he watch her dress. As soon as he departed, the doors opened again and two maids came in, fully-veiled in black. They took the bride-to-be over to an ominous-looking lacing trapeze and attached her wrists to it. Then, whilst one turned the handle and hoisted her into the air, the other brought before her a beautiful yet terrifying creation of steel and silk; her wedding stays.
These were longer than any that she had experienced previously and smaller in the waist, and Anna Rosa was dreading wearing them. Nonetheless, if she wished to arrive at the ceremony in the manner befitting an obedient and submissive wife, then they were obviously a necessity or her fiancé would not have ordered them. She breathed in deeply as the maid, (who was struggling even to lift the totally-rigid creation), placed it around her torso and started to fasten up the busk.
Even without the commencing of the lacing, they felt tight and solid, and the weight of them quite took Anna Rosa’s breath away. What’s more, there were three sets of lacing, one around the upper legs, one around the upper torso and bust and the third around the waist. That would no doubt cause some serious constriction! She was sure that wearing these she would be able to do very little as they held her totally solid from bust to knee, solid and, very soon, tight.
It had been explained that the lacing for these formidable instruments of waist reduction, could not be completed in one session, but instead would be managed in several bursts throughout the day. Nonetheless, as the shrouded maid started to pull on the laces and Anna Rosa’s already small waist got even smaller, she began to wonder if she would ever make it.
Eventually, just as she was beginning to feel light-headed, the maid stopped and tied off the laces. She took a tape measure and put it around Arabella’s waist. “Fifty centimetres,” she announced. There was still a long way to go!
Our young lady was then let down from the bar and directed to a chair where she sat, (she could still do this as tightening of the lower laces had not yet commenced), where her breakfast, a glass of orange juice, was waiting.
Hungrily, she devoured this before moving onto the next stage of the dressing.
The silk stockings that were drawn onto her legs were of the finest quality but being unable to bend she could only feel, and not view that quality. Next up was more tightening. The corset had settled itself upon her somewhat by now, and her body had moulded itself to the curves of steel. Nonetheless, the pressure was still great and that only increased when the maid started to tighten the lower and upper laces. By the time she had finished, Anna Rosa could hardly move, but that was nothing to what she felt when the laces shaping her stem waist were pulled once again. By now she could hardly breathe and her cheeks were beginning to flush. Once more, the dizziness started to assert itself upon her, but once again, the maid stopped in time and placed the tape around her waist.
“Forty-seven centimetres, signorita, a reduction of three.”
That was almost an inch, good progress, though nowhere near what was required to don the dress she guessed.
Once again, Anna Rosa was released, and this time led to a board which she leant against and was strapped to. There was a shelf at the bottom for her to rest her feet, and this device was used, since sitting was now an impossibility for our heroine. The maids tilted the board to forty-five degrees and then disappeared, promising to reappear after the signorita had rested.
Anna Rosa took the book that they proferred, a romance by Austen and started to read it, but, what with the corset constriction, she found concentrating difficult, so after ten minutes or so, she gave up, put it down and closed her eyes instead. Very soon she was dozing away, dreaming of the ceremony when she was going to be given to her partner for life.
Before she knew it however, they were back and, after a small glass of water, she was strapped back onto the lacing bar and hoisted into the air. This time the reduction came less easily, and the maid really had to tug and pull until she was blue in the face. She was not the only one under exertion, Anna Rosa now could hardly breathe and her breasts swelled up and down with each pant. Nonetheless, despite the lack of air and feeling of dizziness, she kept her consciousness and did not faint, and eventually the maid tied the laces off once more and encircled our heroine’s waist with her tape measure.
“Forty-six centimetres, signorita,” she announced. “Now, signorita, please come with me to the board, we must start work upon your hair.”
Anna Rosa was lowered once more and led to the tilting board, upon which she was once again strapped. The board was then tilted to a degree so that the hairdresser, a famous one whom had been specifically hired by her fiancé for the day, could work upon her subject with ease.
“I will be giving you ringlets on either side of your head,” explained the stylist, “which later will be decorated with small flowers and ribbons that will compliment your dress. Ringlets are not the fashion, signorita, but your fiancé likes them as he feels them to be particularly appropriate for the occasion as to him they symbolise childhood, as all little girls wear them. Childhood means innocence, signorita, and innocence means virginity.” ‘Oh,’ thought Anna Rosa, quite shocked. She’d never realised just to what extent fashions were designed to pander to men’s desires, from the small fragile waist, tight gloves, tiny feet and now ringleted hair. It seemed to her that all men want from life is a pretty helpless childlike doll to show off on occasions and to deflower. Still, if that is what he wanted her to be, then she was of course happy to oblige, for obeying his will was her purpose in life now. Dorozhkina had perhaps been right. Submission was the only acceptable path for a lady!
“And on the back of the head we will be giving you a chignon, which means that your hair will be plaited and then curled into a knot which will sit rather high. This too will be decorated signorita, and fear not, I know my trade well, you will look exquisite!”
‘Exquisite!’ That is how she would look. Whatever a man’s desires were, Anna Rosa definitely knew that she wanted to look exquisite, and she longed to be able to see what the hairdresser was doing to her. But of course, no mirrors were allowed and, instead, all she knew was a lot of pulling on her scalp, and the disgusting smell of her long hair being burnt by the curling tongues, as it was forced into the oh-so-fashionable ringlets.
It took about an hour for the hairdresser to finish Anna Rosa’s hairstyle, but it would take a lot longer for it to set, and for that to happen, the minimum of movement was advisable. Not that she could move a great deal in the constricting wedding corset anyway, and by now the girl had little strength, so it was decided to leave her be in the room for a while until the final tightening of her stays and the fitting of the dress would commence. Thus the maids closed the curtains, doused the lights and left Signorita de la Torre alone in that grand room, strapped to the board so that she may get a little rest.
But what rest could she get, compressed as she was and with the itchy, sticky feeling of her drying hairstyle on her head? Besides, she was excited and impatient to be united with her new master!
After what seemed like an age, but was actually only twenty minutes, the maids knocked and re-entered. Between them they were carrying something that made Anna Rosa’s entire body tingle with anticipation: her wedding dress, an enormous explosion of white silk. Once again she was led over to the lacing bar, strapped and hoisted. Then came the petticoats and tight skirt and after that the white en pointe boots, laced all the way up to her thighs. As they laced them her feet already felt as constricted as her waist, and she hadn’t yet put any weight on them! She dreaded the moment when she was to be lowered from the bar, but she knew that it would be worth it. After all, one must suffer to be beautiful for one’s husband and master.
And beautiful was what she was going to be, wearing the finest gown in Christendom! But to wear that gown her waist must be smaller yet, it was time for the final tightening. The maids first completed their work on the upper and lower laces, thrusting her now prominent bosom out even further, so that it now created a shelf, beyond which she had no view downwards. The now huge orbs heaved as they fought for air, whilst lower down her legs were pinned together by the lower part of the corset and the tight underskirt. Then they attacked the middle lacings for the final time. The poor girl could feel her waist getting smaller and smaller and with each tug her ability to breath lessened. Her face grew redder and redder and her breasts surged up and down in a frantic attempt to bring air to their mistress’s compressed lungs. Anna Rosa couldn’t take anymore, she tried to called out for them to stop, but no words came out of her pretty lips. Then the world went black.
She was brought back to the living by the pungent odour of the smelling salts which the maid wafted under her nose. Immediately she was aware of the intense constriction around her waist and she looked at the maid with scared eyes. “It’s finished, signorita. Your waist is now thirty-eight centimetres in diameter. You are ready to wear your wedding dress.” Anna Rosa smiled weakly – she had done it!
Before the gown could be fitted however, they had to fit the fine corset cover, huge petticoat, (which was almost two metres across), and more petticoats. Eventually however, she was ready and slowly she was lowered from the lacing bar.
The pain in her feet was intense as the weight of her body and clothing was transferred from the bar to her crushed toes, but she grimaced not and instead smiled as a lady of distinction should do. Then the sumptuous gown of white silk and fine lace was lifted above her, placed over her head and fitted around her body, being laced tightly at the back so that the bodice seemed almost moulded to her skin and not a wrinkle was to be seen. One maid then busied herself fastening fresh flowers to the dress, whilst the other embarked upon the fitting of her tight kid leather ball gloves which had been placed in stretchers overnight. Doing this took a good fifteen minutes, and by the time they were finished, our heroine could hardly bend her arms or fingers at all. Her hands however looked delightfully tiny and helpless.
After that, both turned their attentions to affixing the train, which was a staggering twenty metres long and added to the weight of the dress considerably. When at last it was fitted and they asked her to moved, the prodigious weight made any movement almost impossible and she hoped that the guests would be patient as traversing that long aisle in the cathedral would take some time!
When the maids working down below, (who Anna Rosa could not see due to her pushed-up breasts and a large pearl necklace that kept her head held high), pronounced their work completed, the young lady of distinction asked if she may now view herself in the mirror, as she was eager to see what she looked like.
“No signorita!” cried the head maid, horrified. “What about your make-up and veils?”
After so long in confinement, Anna Rosa had forgotten completely that women wore make-up, and the thought of being perfumed and painted to perfection excited her. Getting a stool, the head maid started work on our heroine’s face, transforming her enhanced lips into a delightful rosebud, giving her lashes and lids colour and strength and powdering her face, neck and breasts so that they were as white and smooth as porcelain. A soupcon of perfume was added and a bouquet given for her to hold.
“Signorita de la Torre!” announced the maid, with a touch of pride. “You are complete!”
Two more maids whipped the cover off one of the long mirrors behind her and Anna Rosa turned round. The vision that confronted her was unbelievable. What stood before her was a princess. A vast crinoline decorated with fresh flowers dived into a minute and unbelievably elegant waist that rose completely vertically for around four inches. This was was not only tiny, but perfectly circular in shape and the plain, stretched white silk, undecorated and unadorned emphasised this perfection. And after this extreme of tinyness her body swelled out once more into two fine breasts that were the colour of milk. The fine dress with its perfect stitching and unmatched lace showed these off to their optimum.
By the sides of her waist hung two fragile, pale arms, enclosed in beautiful tight gloves that gave her hands the impression of being those of a doll. Above the breasts was a fine, elegant neck, encircled by a fantastical pearl necklace and then her face, framed by cascading ringlets. Her eyes shone like jewels and Anna Rosa was certain that she had never seen aught so beautiful as that finely moulded visage, pale, fragile, doll-like and entirely elegant and desirable.
Gone was the child that had entered the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour but two years before.
A wedding dress similar to Anna Rosa’s
In her place stood a fairytale princess about to be married to her prince. The shock of the revelation was too much for our poor princess and at that moment the stars came and the world grew dark.
She was quickly brought around as time was now short, and there were veils to add, first one and then another. They were all gauze and quite transparent, but when twenty had been added and pinned carefully to her hair, she was, as per usual, completely blind. The maids left and she was alone. Then she heard the door reopen and a man stride across the room. The veils were lifted one-by-one, until a faint outline could be seen, then something clearer, until finally her beloved father came into focus. “You look divine, my darling Anna!” he exclaimed with a smile, before then putting his hand in his pocket. “And here is a little present from me to remind you to stay submissive on this glorious day!”
And into her mouth he popped a matching white gag which he then inflated until not a sound could she make. That done, the twenty veils were lowered again and blindness took over…
Chapter 29 – The Wedding
The music played and the congregation stood. Anna Rosa heard them stand but she could not see them. She could see nothing save for the white of her veils. Even if she could have done though, it would have made little difference. Every effort in her body was going into walking to the altar. She clung to her father’s supporting arm, the arm that had helped her out of the house, across the square and up the church steps. She had managed that but would she manage this? Every step took a mammoth effort, so heavy was the enormous train of her dress, and those steps, her feet clad in the ballet boots, were of but a few centimetres each. She thought that it would never end.
But end it did. Her father squeezed her arm and whispered, “Stop!” She was glad to. Her enhanced breasts, squeezed by the corset, heaved up and down as she tried to regain her breath. As she recovered, the priest began, reciting the Holy Scriptures. When the congregation sang a hymn, she was glad to stay silent.
But as she recovered, she began to wonder and worry. Didn’t she have to say, ‘I do’, yet how could she, gagged so securely? And then there was the man stood by her side, Antonio de Silva. She would marry him because she had to, because girls must be obedient and submissive, but now that she was back in Colombia and a million miles away from the academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour, she found it more difficult to see him in a heroic light, as the Master of her dreams. He was Antonia, a dull grey blur, an accountant, not a man of passion.
‘But he must have some passionate thoughts to have sent me to the Academy,’ she reasoned to herself. The reasoning was good, but why did it leave her unconvinced? ‘You must accept your lot, a woman’s place is to be submissive,’ she chided herself. The words were undoubtedly true but still, life as Senora de Silva!
Those male words snapped her out of her reverie. He had promised to marry her! Now it was her turn! What would she do? She did not hear the priest’s question in her panic, but she did hear something else…
It came from her mouth! It wasn’t her, but it came from her mouth. The voice wasn’t hers, it was a female voice, very similar, but not hers. So, her father’s gag had a small speaker inside it which someone had caused to speak forth then. To the congregation it must have appeared as if she herself had spoken, particularly as the sound would have been muffled by all those veils! How clever! What a piece of genius!
Then it dawned on her…
She was now married, married to Antonio de Silva and she hadn’t had a say in it, (literally)! Her fate was sealed.
She heard the priest speak again, “You may now kiss the bride!”
The veils were lifted, one, two, three, another, another, another… until a the outline of a man’s face could be made out, clearer and clearer until the final one was lifted and…
It wasn’t de Silva!
She was married to a man that she had never seen before in her life!
Chapter 30 – Postscript
I suppose it’s my turn to say a few words now. You’ve just read all about Anna Rosa’s excellent training before she came into my care and now I imagine that you want a few explanations for what happened. That’s fair enough, it’s an unusual story and one that, if it must be fully told, I have to have an input in. So, let’s begin…
My name is Fernando Marquez and I am the eldest son of Mendoza Marquez, the great Colombian drugs baron. I first met Anna Rosa some fifteen or so years ago. It was at a party in Bogota in the home of some politician. She arrived with her father and mother wearing a simple blue dress. She caught my eye immediately.
I am not saying that I fell in love with her. She was only twelve and despite what other sexual eccentricities I may have, an interest in children is not one of them. However, in my line of work it is imperative that you can recognise potential and that is what I did that day. I thought to myself, ‘Now that girl given five years will become a beauty although she doesn’t even know it herself.’ So it was that I went over her. Her talk, though childish, was intelligent and boded well. She had spirit that, if tamed, could turn her into an irresistible life companion. It is like a horse. A docile horse is never going to become a world-beater. But a spirited animal sufficiently broken, can become the finest in all the Americas. There and then I decided that she was to become the mare that I would break.
And so from then on I observed her. I never spoke to her after that evening, but I watched and listened at every party and gathering that we went to. I learnt that she was promised to some son of a business associate of her father’s and I saw in her eyes that this young man ignited no flame in her breast. I also saw that he was an opponent unworthy of the name, a man more suited to the role of a bank clerk than a Casanova. At the same time I also laid my foundations so that when the time came, I would be ready to pounce.
That time came when she was fifteen. She was involved in some innocent sexual liaison at her school and discovered before any permanent damage could be done. She was sent home in disgrace and her fiancé got worried. Was she still a virgin or not? De la Torre was insulted that he asked, and outraged that he demanded a test to ascertain the truth. That’s when I stepped in. I told him that I would marry his daughter instead, virgin or otherwise. At first he was reluctant being a man of honour and having promised her hand to de Silva. That’s when I informed him that the money that he owed to the Banca Nacional was in fact owed to me. Then he relented. “However,” I continued, knowing when to push home my advantage, “I want more. If I am to marry her, I need assurance that she is not to get into a similar situation as has just caused her to leave her last school.” De la Torre assured me that it was a one-off, but I demanded still more. “From now until our marriage I am to be in charge of her education. I shall pay for it of course, but I shall be in charge.”
As expected he was indignant at this, but I stayed firm and then pushed home my point by showing him the documents that proved that the $5,000,000 that he owed to Banca Bogota were in fact, owed to me. Then the man saw sense and saw the benefits of my proposal. His only remaining condition was that she continue to have a Catholic upbringing which, as a Catholic myself, I of course did not refuse. And so it was that she was set to attend the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour.
The Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour, yes, you have heard that name before is it not so? But how, you ask, did I come to know of this place? Well, naturally, ever since meeting Anna Rosa for the first time I had been aware of the necessity of training my wife-to-be at some future date and so always keeping an eye and ear out for a suitable establishment. The breakthrough however, came on a trip to Dubai where I stayed with a Venezuelan friend of mine involved in the oil industry. The night that I arrived I was enjoying a glass of wine with him on the balcony of his villa when a silent figure, completely dressed in black, veiled so that even the face was hidden, came to us and knelt in front of him, following which he then lifted his feet onto her back using her as a footstool. After some ten minutes or so of her performing this degrading duty in motionless silence, I could hold my curiosity no longer so I asked him just who the woman was, to which he replied that she was his new wife, Katerina. Now of course I, like everyone else, knew that my friend had been married before to a lady whom he had had no end of trouble with and had divorced but five years previously after years of nagging and suffering but I was not aware that he had married again or indeed had had the urge to. It was then that he explained it all. He said that I was quite right and that after his divorce he had thought himself cured of marriage forever, but upon moving to the Middle East had become friendly with some of the locals and had observed how they treated their womenfolk. Arabian women he told me, are forced to live in purdah which basically means veiled and separate from male society. They may only leave the house covered up and in the company of their husband, father or brother. Furthermore, some of the more serious of the Arabs, demand that their women be gagged, fettered in some way and wear veils so thick that they are effectively blinded. Kept in such a manner, they are denied all opportunities to be unfaithful or to nag and instead direct all their attentions towards their husbands. Straightaway, my friend knew that this was for him and so he returned home to Venezuela and attended the premier Caracas beauty competition. In the line up he picked out the girl that he most especially liked, an 18-year old named Katerina, offered her his hand and she, being basically as money-grabbing and self-centred as his first wife, accepted. He added however, one condition; that she attend a ladies’ school that he knew of for two years first. Happy to get such an exclusive education free, she assented, but little did she know that the school – which his Arabian friends had told him about – was most different from other finishing schools. It was of course, the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour.
This Academy he said, was a place where women were taught, using the most drastic of methods, to obey their husbands, submit to their husbands, desire no other man and yet be rampant in bed. “The results,” he said pointing to his human footstool, “are here before me. She feels honoured to serve me as a footstool and later in bed she will give me untold pleasure. She is the perfect wife.”
“Doesn’t she mind hearing you say that?” I asked in alarm.
“She can’t hear us,” he replied. “I demand that she wear a full leather hood which leaves her blind, deaf and dumb until I see fit to remove it.”
“That’s incredible,” I replied, “but how could she then walk here and find where you are to kneel before you?”
“Training,” he explained with a smile. “On her feet she is wearing only socks and into the floor I have cut thin grooves which she must follow. It is her only way of navigating.”
I looked on the floor and saw that she was in fact kneeling where the line in the marble ended. “Incredible!” I exclaimed. “So that is what this Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour produces?!”
“That is what it produces,” he confirmed.
Two weeks later and I was on a plane to this remarkable place. My Arabian friend gave me a number which I called and I was told to fly to Moscow Sheremetova where a helicopter would pick me up. This was done and I was met in the chopper by a middle-aged lady who it turned out was the headmistress. She explained that her school was deep in the northern forests of Russia and that she would give me all the details as we flew. She told me that the buildings had in fact been a girl’s school in the nineteenth century, (with the unnerving name of ‘The House of Dolls’), but after the revolution had been taken over by the NKVD where they were used for something far more infamous. Beria apparently, had decreed that it become a special camp for ‘Female Political Unreliables’, or in other words, all the dashingly pretty actresses, wives of politburo members, ballerinas and secretaries that the secret police decided to arrest. Every weekend Beria himself would come over and personally ‘interrogate’ the prettiest detaineés. When Stalin died and Beria himself was deposed, not one prisoner was left to tell the tale and instead the complex was added to considerably and turned into an army barracks, (the girls now staying in the former dormitories). After the Fall of Communism however, the descendant of the original headmistress had reclaimed her property and started another elite girls’ school on the site. “And there it is,” said the woman as we started our descent.
What I saw still looked more like a prison than a school. Barbed wire and watchtowers surrounded it and a foreboding feeling was in the air.
Inside I was given a guided tour and what I saw amazed me. The first sight that I was shown was a room full of girls in blue burqas, (such as is worn in Afghanistan the headmistress told me), bowing down in front of a teacher. It was explained to me that the students were colour-coded by term, (these were Fourth Termers), and that the lesson, whose purpose was to teach them patience, consisted of them maintaining that position for three hours straight. Next up, I was escorted to the Physical Education rooms where some girls were riding on exercise bikes, still dressed in all-encompassing burqas, this time in green. Then it was explained to me just how many layers and restraints the girls were expected to wear and I was shown a video of a Sixth Termer (her face blocked out of course) being prepared for the day. I was amazed – and excited – by the multitude of robes, gloves, veils and other garments that she was expected to wear and also by the restraints forced onto her. In particular, I viewed how her arms were bent behind her back so that they were secured, palm to palm, immobile, facing upwards. The arrangement was so neat and compact, yet erotically stimulating too that I made a mental note there and then to insist on the same regime for my Anna Rosa. Then the headmistress informed me that I was in for a special treat and I was taken to watch a Fifth Term girl in her Intimate Arts class. When I got there she was bent over with her arse exposed and her teacher was removing a pessarie and replacing it with a much larger one. This operation – which caused the poor girl to emit many groans and protestations – was conducted I was told, so that her bottom would be fit to take her husband’s tool on their wedding night, he being much addicted to anal intercourse and having a sizeable penis, having had it enlarged recently through surgery. I commented too that the girl’s arse was also sufficiently sizeable to which the headmistress informed me that it had also been enlarged recently through implants and that if I thought it to be impressive, I should see her breasts which – as her future husband was a devotee of the beautiful game – had been expanded to the size of a regulation association football each!
By now as you can imagine, I was feeling incredibly horny, but I need not have worried as I was then directed to a small room where an astonishingly beautiful Russian lady was waiting, wearing only a bikini. She, the headmistress informed me, was a maid and the role of the maids in the school was then explained. Apparently, upon entry every girl is assigned with a maid who is detailed to cater for all of their needs, (which gradually get more numerous, the more the girl is restricted). These maids however, (whom the girls never see, being veiled at all times in the girls’ presence), also perform a secondary role of mistress to their future husbands. Apparently, many men like to visit the school whilst their fiancees are studying and view their future wives in training and the maids are delegated to provide the men with sexual company during those times and also, after marriage, when the men are tired of their new wives or whilst the bride is having her period. Indeed, the sight of this young beauty was appealing enough to me, but then the headmistress told us that she would leave us alone and well, I need not tell of what ensued, except to say that in the intimate arts, the maids are truly as well-trained as their charges.
Finally, once we had both regained our breath, the maid left and returned with a drink for me and following that I was escorted to the headmistress’s office where I was shown some pictures of the other fetishes catered for at the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour – corseting, rubber bondage, gagging, high-heels, bimboification and so on. I was agog. This place was perfect for my needs. It was expensive, yes, but I doubted not worth every penny. I signed Anna Rosa up there and then and put down a healthy deposit. Before even her family ever knew it, her future lot in life was decided.
I shall not here go into detail about my wife’s time at the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour. After all, you know already what she went through and what training I decreed for her. You know too the end product and just how pleasing and successful it all was. I must however, say a few words about what I did during that period.
Whilst Anna Rosa was in the Academy I was, unbeknownst to her of course, a regular visitor. As the school had a standard entry term curriculum I had decided to leave it until she was settled before I mapped out hers. About a month after she enrolled, I travelled to Russia and met with the headmistress again. She let me view Anna Rosa unawares, (through one-way mirrors), in class, bed and at play. The sight of her veiled and fighting her submissive side gave me great pleasure as too did the nights spent with her maid, Lina, whom I had chosen by post some six months beforehand. I agreed with her teachers that the strictest purdah was definitely the way forward, as too was heavy-duty veiling and submission and patience training. However, I also decreed that I wanted her fully trained in all the sexual arts that could be accomplished without her losing her virginity, (I’m sorry, but I am rather old-fashioned in that respect), and, since I’d been entranced by the dancers when I visited Dubai, I threw in some belly dance training for good measure.
Then the headmistress moved me onto the subject of her shape. She showed me a computer-generated image of her form at that time and then predictions as to how that body would develop over the coming years. As I’d guessed, she was going to become a pleasingly curvaceous lady in the mould of the famous Jennifer Lopez and so when I was asked about any modifications, I said that there was very little that really needed doing save for moderate breast enlargements. There was however, a little fetish of mine that I’d long held, that of having a woman corset to extremes and when I mentioned it the headmistress was most accommodating, stating that tight-lacing was in fact quite a popular request and that Anna Rosa’s body would suit it ideally. She typed some figures into the computer and it stated that a waist of 38cm was entirely achievable and when the headmistress demonstrated with a tape measure just how tiny this was, then I plumped for it straight away.
Next we discussed the subject of bondage and I decided upon en pointe heels, anal plugging and the beautiful arm arrangement that I had viewed on my previous visit and then finally I added my own strange little request.
“Madame,” I said, “I have long been a lover of art and so I wish to create a series of statues and paintings of my wife at school. Is this possible?”
The headmistress stated that whilst my request was unusual, it was not only possible but unique and indeed a good one and so with that sorted I left them to formulate her curriculum.
Afterwards I visited time upon time again. I watched her get dressed, bow in submission, learn how to belly dance and when she went to Pakistan, get packed into her crate. Best of all though were the times at the end of each term when I sat for hours watching her pose as a vestal virgin, Eve or some other great female of legend whilst Lina ministered to my needs. Being apart from my love during that period was difficult but not unbearable.
For Anna Rosa though, I doubt that things were so bearable. She had no relief of course and furthermore, what the teachers never informed her was that her food was – on my orders, naturally – all laced with the strongest of aphrodisiacs. Is it any wonder that she passed out in pleasure on more than one occasion?
But enough of school, what I am really here to tell you about is our wedding night and subsequent married life together.
As you know, my good lady wife only learnt of her husband’s identity when I lifted the veil on her in the middle of Bogota Cathedral. From early on I had thought it amusing to let her think that the dull grey blur that is de Silva would be her future spouse and so you can imagine the look on her face when I lifted up those countless sheets of gauze and planted a kiss in the middle of her gagged lips. It was priceless and I only wish that I’d photographed it.
Many photos were of course taken on that memorable day as I’d decided that for one afternoon only I would let my wife’s face be seen in public, (after all, how could I have explained it if it had been otherwise?). Outside the church I surreptitiously ungagged her and removed her veils so that all the world may view her beauty and that exquisite beauty clad in that incredible dress could be recorded for my benefit for all posterity. Thankfully, her training served her well. Throughout the entire day she asked no questions and was sufficiently demure and modest. That old flame of inquisitiveness and dominance had been regulated by excellent schooling. Well… that and the fact that she laboured for every breathe with a corset laced to such impossible dimensions.
Finally, after the meal and reception it was time for us to enter the marriage chamber. I followed her in there as proud as any man in the Americas, locked the doors behind us and then slowly started to unpeel her many layers. The process took over an hour as she was of course, wearing so much, but by the end when I beheld her completely naked form in front of me, then we were both so full of longing that we collapsed onto the bed and enjoyed the bed sex of our lives.
For three days it continued. We stayed locked up in that hotel room, the only contact with the outside world being then thrice daily meals brought up by the maid, and explored each others bodies and souls to the maximum. I tried out every aspect of her Intimate Arts training and found it to be all of the highest standard. That girl could drive a man wild simply by making him a cup of coffee. It was unbelievable.
But all things must pass and so on the morning of the fourth day after wake-up congress, I sat her down and said, “Anna Rosa my dear, our honeymoon is now over.”
She nodded glumly.
“And so,” I continued, “it is time for us to re-enter the real world and as my wife, I expect you to obey some certain rules.”
Again she nodded.
“You have been trained in purdah and so I expect you to live in it, veiled and gagged at all times, arms restrained and outside of our house, a blinding veil.”
Again she nodded.
“Everyday I expect you to wear this garment. It is one that I have designed myself and whilst not easy, is becoming and answers many of your needs.”
The garment in question I had designed myself. It was in essence a boned leather body sheath, stretching from the ankles to the chin. It incorporated a tight corset around the middle, a neck corset and extra room at the top of the back so that her arms could be placed there, wholly restrained and compressed giving the illusion of her being armless. The whole garment was finished off in beautiful cream satin whilst yellow bows decorated the front in a long line from bottom to top. Another large bow also decorated her derriere. A thick belt of gold, ten centimetres thick and perfectly circular in diameter could then be screwed around the middle. It was feminine and beautiful yet fearsome.
What must it be like to contemplate wearing a garment like that? To know that you are being sentenced for life to an existence without arms, with steps of but a few millimetres, forever gasping for breathe, head held high by an unforgiving collar. One ceases to become a human being and is transformed into a plaything. When such a fate is before you, how can you accept it? How can you do anything but kneel down and plead for release and mercy? (And if she had done so, do you know what, I would have granted it in a second, so in love was I!) But Anna Rosa, what did she do? She knelt down before me and said, “Thank you Master, thank you for the honour of letting me serve you in this way. All I need is a suitable gag and veils and I shall be happy.”
Well, I picked her up, kissed her ruby red lips and then provided the gag, a thick inflatable one. Then I dressed her in her new best friend, laced her to the point of fainting and then threw four burqas over the top of it all before leading her out to the car and our new life in my mansion near to Pitalito.
Well, and so that was that. We arrived some hours later and naturally, Anna Rosa has not left the place since. To be honest, I do not think that she has ever had any wish to although to be fully truthful, I do not know for sure. All that I know is that since that day our lives have been in a routine that has lasted for us both and indeed pleased us both. Yes, that I can say for certain even though I am sure that there are some amongst you who would disagree. Her mode of life pleases my wife. That is it and yes, it is true beyond doubt. But to those of you who are still as Thomas was, let me explain more fully:
Upon arrival at her new home, I led my wife to our bedchamber and bade her prostrate herself before me. “Now partner of my soul,” I said to her, “I shall dictate to you the terms of your future existence. Life here is bound by very strict rules which I expect you to adhere to. Any deviation from them will result in the most severe punishment. Is that understood?”
“Yes Master,” she replied, although I am sure that I detected a slight smile of delight at the mention of the word ‘punishment’.
“Very good. Firstly, this room is your room as to is the bathroom next door. Within them you may wear whatever you like, nakedness is even permitted, but outside of them not a soul may ever set their eyes upon your face. For leaving this room veils of a thickness that not a feature of your face may be distinguished must be worn. To leave the house, a blinding veil is mandatory. Is that understood?”
“To dress in such a way is proper for a lady.”
“Good. So, that is outside, but within this room you are free to dress as you like, although at all times when I am not present, your golden collar of ownership is mandatory and I insist that you be tethered by this golden chain here to the column in the centre of the room. Is that acceptable?”
“It is an honour, Master.”
“Excellent,” I replied, marvelling at the completeness of her training. “Now, although I said that your attire in here is of your own choice – and it is – I should like to state that it pleases me to see your arms restrained and so whenever you are not clad in the suit that you wear now, (which as I said earlier, will be your standard underwear for outside of this room), it would gladden my heart to know that your arms are bound in the becoming way in which they were trained at the Academy. How do you feel about that?”
“What gladdens you Master, gladdens me also. I would not dream of wishing to ask for them to be unbound.”
What words! What resolve! She had been trained well, but more than this the glint in her eye told me that I had found a soul-mate. Something in her character, that trait which prior to her education had manifested itself in rebellion and mischievousness had now been channelled a love, a desire, nay, a fetish even for being restrained and powerless. She revelled in her helplessness and captivity. It was perverse yet I more than anyone understood it and thus cultivated it. It was not modesty and purdah that fuelled her mind, but something more animal… and alluring.
“You speak piously Anna Rosa and that is good. Now, I shall outline your daily routine. Every morning you shall be awoken by the maid and will then be given the task of waking me, by sucking on my tool until it reaches climax. The seed shall be your nutritious breakfast. Following my waking, you shall bathe and be dressed for exercise which shall take place as it did at your school, veiled and in a room other than your bedroom. Your body at present is toned and nubile and thus pleasing to me but for it to remain so you need to exercise for at least three hours a day. After this, you shall be led back to your room where you may relax for an hour before lunch.”
“You are kind to consider my wants so much, Master.”
“After lunch which will be taken in your room, you shall be dressed as I see fit and taken to my office. There you shall serve me through either sexual interaction or bowing until I finish work. The evening is then your own in your room. At night, naturally we shall lie together although I shall often be asking you to dance for me and on Sunday I desire you to don a gown of my choice – Victorian, 18th century, something of that type – and wait for me in the bedroom where I shall admire you before undressing you for congress. When I go away for business reasons though, your routine shall alter completely. Then you shall be encased in a purdah closet until I return although to keep you occupied, I have this present.”
I handed her the object. “A pessarie, Master?” she queried.
“Yes, but a special one. It vibrates by remote control and so wherever I am in the world, when I think of you, I shall activate it and you will know that we are together in thought.”
“Master, you are too kind.”
“And you are perfect wife. Now, let us undress and do as married couples should…”
And so has been her life ever since that day. How happy have I been observing her being led through the corridors, dance like Salome before me, clad in a Victorian gown on a Sunday, being woken up by her ministrations or pressing the button on the remote control and imagining her squirming in ecstasy whilst firmly secured in her purdah closet. A fine life indeed it has been for both of us and one that has taught me as much as her for in the early days of our union I naturally sought pleasure frequently with Lina or other ladies of the world when away from my home. However, I soon learnt that beside my angelic Anna Rosa, such ungodly acts were hardly worth perpetrating. The other harlots, beautiful as they might have been, were not half so alluring as my restrained wife and our congress had none of the intensity of the love sessions with my bound and veiled spouse. They were but pale reflections of true paradise and so gradually I engaged in them less and less until one day I decided to abandon them altogether. And so it was that the full genius of purdah and bondage has been revealed to me. By restricting my wife I inadvertedly set myself on the right path too. And so to celebrate that fact I decided to reveal my final mystery to Anna Rosa.
One day some two months ago I allowed her an unprecedented privilege. I allowed her to leave her room ungagged and her arms unbound, (though gloved thrice over). I took her leash and led her through the corridors to the large room with a glass roof in the west wing of our home. Then I removed her outer burqa and eye veils. For the first time since her arrival in the house, her two eyes were exposed outside of the bedchamber.
“Have you ever been to this room before my love?” I asked.
She glanced towards the floor guiltily. “I have strayed here on several occasions, Master,” she admitted.
“And what do you make of this place?” I then asked.
“It puzzles and intrigues me, Master, although with my arms bound as they properly should be I thankfully, have not been able to satisfy my curiosity.”
I smiled. She had good reason to be curious, for the room was strange indeed. It is a large, airy chamber, entirely empty save for five still and silent burqa-clad figures in its centre.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I told her.
She stepped forward and removed the green burqa off the figure nearest to her. What she saw underneath made her gasp.
“It is me!”
And so it was. Anna Rosa de la Torre, Second Term student of the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour knelt down, dressed as a vestal virgin and carved entirely out of fine white marble.
I went over to the other figures and removed the burqas. There was Anna Rosa as Belle, Anna Rosa as a temptress out of Greek legend, Anna Rosa as Marie Antoinette and Anna Rosa as Eve.
“You are to perfect to be forgotten and so I have ensured that your heavenly image will last for eternity!” I exclaimed.
She simply smiled, knelt down before me, lifted up her veil and undid my trousers with her gloved hands…
Final note from the author: For those of you who have enjoyed this story, you may wish to learn more about the Academy of Modesty and Submissive Behaviour’s 19th century forerunner, La Maison des Poupees, which is possible by going onto the LISA website, entering the text area (historically/classically orientated section) and clicking on the story by the same name.