A Letter for Shamira

A Letter for Shamira

by Den Sethos

This story is a continuation of “A Preacher for Shamira” and reading this is recommended for enjoying this story. That story itself is a sequel to “Shami’s New Life“.

Disclaimer:
This work is intended to be read as a fiction and sexual fantasy material. It is not intended for minors and the faint of heart.
This work deals with bondage, sadism, mental anguish and manipulation.
If you contemplate such actions in real life out of roleplay/bedroom roleplay, you have to seek professional help, because you have a problem and could very well become one yourself.
All sexual activity you engage in must be S(afe), S(ane) and C(onsensual).

Shamira was trussed up naked on the bed in a balltie, her arse high above her head. Her wrists were cuffed behind her knees and her anal sphincter was still throbbing from the vigorous fucking her husband had subjected her to an hour ago. A ballgag crammed in her mouth prevented her from uttering anything more sophisticated than a moan.

From her limited vantage point on the bed, she could not see what he was doing. In the six weeks since she had married him to escape the clutches of her fanatical uncle, she had not been able to discover what he was actually doing when he was not tormenting her. She knew he was rich, but his initial claim that his father was a director of Lloyds now seemed like a lie to ensnare her. What is more, an offhand comment of his had seeded doubt in her mind. He had claimed he had designed the purdah suit she had been forced into when under the thumb of her hated uncle. As chance would have it, she was about to find out what the score was.

She heard a chair creak from behind her. Faisal had certainly been sitted in the chair in front of the desk and, from the occasional rustling of paper had been reading some papers. The footsteps drew closer, until she felt a hand on her backside, gently kneading the flesh and drifting towards her exposed sex, without actually reaching it. Shamira was caught in the sensation and in the contradiction in her mind. She hated Faisal and the torments he wrought upon her, but she could not help herself feeling desire for him. Her heart fluttered when he kissed her, her flesh tingled when he groped her and she still admired him when he reclined on the bed in the evening. It was a maddening state of mind, an intimate Stockholm syndrome she could not resolve.

Faisal undid the strap that was keeping her tied form erect on the bed, laying her on the bed in a more comfortable position, her face turned towards him as he sat on the bed’s edge. He was holding a letter and seemed in high spirit.

“- You will surely be delighted to hear I got a letter from your uncle. There have been some interesting developments since you were gone. You remember you told me of the time he went back to Karachi and a maid freed your aunt and you while he was away? Well, I met him a few weeks ago, just after we had that preacher as a guest, actually. I gave him a report on your progress as a dutiful wife and gave him a few details about your time of freedom while he was gone.
When I recounted him that particular stunt, he went, for lack of a more dignified expression, ballistic. However, I was able to convince him not to divorce on the spot and we hatched a plan to put your aunt and her maid back in their place. All thanks to your little indiscretion.”

Shamira was listening, horrified, by the story. She could only imagine the agonizing consequences of her mistake. Meanwhile, Faisal’s hand was still running up and down her behind, sending unwelcome shivers up her spine.
Faisal soon continued his speech.

“- Do not worry, my dear, the punishment was not as harsh as you fear. I must say I was impressed by the restraint, no pun intended, your uncle demonstrated. When he regained his composure, we hatched a plan. He would pretend to go on a new business trip, leaving the mice to dance while he was away, so to speak. Naturally, when he came back unexpectedly, he stumbled on his wife and maid cavorting in indecent exposure around the house. After a protracted lecture on the obligations of a wife – of which he gave me a full account by the way, I will skip it, considering its rather dull content – he put the second part of the plan into motion, a part in which I played a significant role, might I add.
You see, when I told you my father was a director of Lloyds, I wasn’t lying. However, much of my money comes from my own enterprises. My father is a dedicated businessman, he would not approve of his son to simply wait for his inheritance. So, I set out to find an occupation that would give me the money I needed, while corresponding to my particular inclinations. So, I created a firm specializing in the making of purdah items. Well, that’s the front, anyway. There are two parts to this firm. There is the purdah factory, which produces, among others, the purdah suits you have worn at your uncle’s. There are many more items, veils, khimars, gloves, niqabs, dresses, skirts, you name a piece of attire, I make it. The second part is a hidden factory, with a rather bland name. It produces the complements to my purdah suits, the ones you have seen since our wedding. Dildos, armbinders, straitjackets, hobbles, hoods, gags, not to forget furniture, all dedicated to the kinky imprisonment of female form. Your uncle was a faithful customer, long before I met you. I think my designs even fuelled his obsession with purdah quite a bit. I’m afraid under there is nevrosis under his zeal.”

He paused for a second, taking stock of her mounting dread, before continuing.

“In any case, your uncle decided to put your aunt in a more stringent position than before. It came with a new wardrobe and a renewed obstination for your uncle.”

His smile widened, and a glance informed him that his wife was listening intently to her aunt’s predicament. He decided to tease her a bit more, by not broaching the subject immediately.

“By the way, you will surely be delighted to hear your aunt’s maid was not sacked. Your uncle was lenient and simply shifted her service from his wife to his daughter. Now, since she is quite the zealot herself, there will be no worry about a breach of modesty. There was only one condition to this: that the maid wore a purdah uniform. Well, now, that was a challenge for me, since it should not restrict movement, but still be more modest than a simple cloth veil. So, I came up with something rather interesting if I may say so myself.
The foundation is a supple corset made of rubber. Its role is to cinch the waist, but not limit movement too much. A leather thong with a metal plate extends downwards over the crotch. The metal plate conforms to the maid’s anatomy and is pierced with numerous hole, to allow her to relieve herself. The thong then divides in two and is affixed to the rear of the corset. It is a very effective chastity device. No naughty stimulation allowed with this garment on. Of course, padlocks are applied and removed only once per week to allow a thorough cleaning.
Then come rubber stockings. They are very light and are attached to garters on the corset.
Those gloves do wonders to keep the maid modest, and still allow her to use her hands. Of course, they prevent the most precise of movements, like writing, but the duties of a maid do not call for such things. They cover the arms up to the elbows.
The boots are another matter, though. High heels are a slutty implement, if I am to believe your uncle, but he had to admit they restrict the gait spectacularly, when applied correctly. So, I had some ballet heels made especially for the maid. They have a flat platform affixed at their end, to facilitate walking. They are not comfortable, not by a far stretch, but they do not prevent walking, even if it is a slow excruciating process.

The next part of the uniform is a dress made of a rather special cloth called Darlex. It is a combination of rubber and spandex. It is extremely resilient and elastic. So, it applies a continuous pressure on the wearer, like rubber, but it does not squeak and stick, unlike rubber. There was a possibility to make a hobble dress of it, but the ballet heels are enough of a walking restriction as they are, so it is shaped like a normal dress. It has a built-in bra, of course, even though due to the elasticity of the dress, breasts tend to be quite thoroughly compressed. The long sleeves cover the gloves and prevent their removal. The dress is of course padlocked, the key being handed to the maid only once per day.
Her face is covered by a rather amusing assemblage: she wears a light black rubber cap over her hair. Her whole head is then laced into a spandex hood of the same colour with apertures for her mouth eyes and nostrils. The ears are covered, but since she is serving your cousin, who is gagged, there is not much need fo a keen sense of hearing. She is also gagged, with a special rubber ball gag, designed to allow nutrition, without the need to be removed: there is a conduit through the core of the gag, which permits the passage of liquid food. A full three veil niqab is then applied, although, two veils are simply lifted back. There is also a string affixed to the bottom of the face veil, worn around the neck, with keeps the veil out of the way of her hands when she is working. I am told in the letter the maid is not very happy about this arrangement, but the choice between this and disgrace after being sent packing was actually not that hard. In those parts, disgrace is pretty much a death sentence. So, mild discomfort is a small price to pay.”

Watching Shamira squirm on the bed, Faisal let his hand wander on her romp, flattering her gorgeous arse. He was enjoying himself immensely. She was like putty in his hands, unable to resist his advances and on some degree even enjoying them. And that was the utmost enjoyment for him.
He read on.

“Your dear aunt has been applied a rather unusual treatment. Since she tried to escape her daily duties, your uncle has made sure said duties were inescapable. He had me prepare a rather ingenious device and some rather sever pieces of attire.
The clothes themselves are simply a more severe version of the purdah suit you know and came to hate. The hobble skirt is rather extreme, I must admit, your poor aunt must be unable to walk without assistance. Not that she has to go far, anyway. She has been fitted with a rather nasty undergarment that collects her wastes. Since her diet is now almost exclusively liquid, there are no problems with that arrangement.
Your uncle also saw fit to render her hands completely unusable. The leather mittens he ordered from me could be used in an insane asylum. They stay on for the whole day and are replaced by gloves during the night. That way the muscles do not completely atrophy, even though, after a few months of this regimen, I doubt your aunt’s hands will be much good for anything.
Your uncle also made sure your aunt spent her day in proper meditation. He had me make a chair similar to the one you endured a few weeks ago, except the vibrating ridge was of course removed. There are also arms with leather restraints mounted on them at the wrist and elbow. Between those and the ankle restraints, let me assure you, once your aunt is snug in this, she is not going anywhere. She is wearing a full set of head restraints and veils. Her hair is first confined into a rupper cap and then her veils are applied. There is a niqab held by a harness, which, I must admit, I lifted from a set of ponygirl gear. The headband accross the forehead holds three veils. Two are normally lifted back, one is hanging in front, concealing her face. The harness also holds a gag. It was normally a bit gag, but it is too uncomfortable in the long run and the rather copious amount of drool it generates is unappealing. So, it got switched to what is best described as a pacifier. It is hollow, allowing liquid food to be delivered. There is one last feature about this harness that I find interesting. The blinders which were normally part of it have been altered. They now extend over the face veil, framing it and preventing its removal and, at the same time, restricting her field of vision. There are two rings at the rear of the harness, which can be fed through holes in the two veils.
Her head is strapped to the board of the chair, so she can only look forward at the TV screen. Of course, it is solely switched onto programs appropriate for an obedient Muslim wife. To make sure she cannot escape her duties, she also has earplugs broadcasting prayers and sermons.
Now, I must admit that is quite the cruel and unusual punishment, considering the dullness of it all. In any case, it won’t be long before your aunt is completely broken and obedient.”

Faisal looked down at his wife. The horror on her face was evident. He knew she felt responsible for what had befallen her aunt. That was what he wanted, so that what he had in mind would be, in her mind, a punishment for her failing her aunt.

“ Your uncle sent me a photo of his little family. He looks positively overjoyed in it. Well, I can’t say the same about your aunt, cousin and former maid: nothing appears of them. They are completely veiled, their faces are hidden from sight behind opaque cloth. I’m pretty sure it must be difficult to see anything through those, too.”

He had one last straw for her:

“By the way, your uncle will be sending a maid to us. She is quite remarkable and she will be a great help to me. After all, I cannot quite spend my days with you. I would love to do it, but life has its demands. She will be here to ensure you spend your days appropriately.”

With those ominous words, Faisal rose up and began to gather the items under which Shamira would spend her day.
She was left on the bed wondering what this new arrival would spell for her. Nothing good, if she knew her husband. She had no idea how right she was

 

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