According to the Law of Kumar
by Ed Kilpatrick
As I completed the second edition of “Veiled Justice,” a new idea came to light, based upon my fictitious Arabian country in the gulf (Kumar), where females are forced to veil under the laws of strictest Purdah. In this short (single I think) story, we follow Sam Jones, a lecturer at the London school of law as he travels on a working assignment to Kumar and finds himself in a relationship of a very different kind.
This story was originally prepared for Tales of the Veils and includes the usual bondage and cross-dressing you would expect from my stories. I would however ask those expecting bondage, to bear with the story as it develops, because bondage comes later.
I hope you enjoy:
Setting the scene:
My name in Sam (Samuel) Jones and I’ve been tutoring criminal law at the London School of Law since leaving the bar and the incredibly stressful world of a criminal barrister two years ago. Granted I earn a lot less money in this job but it doesn’t carry the hours or the stress that ten years in the private sector did. I’m 38 now and enjoying the daily routine of teaching the next generation of lawyers and barristers and since leaving my chambers two years ago, I’ve never worked a weekend!
The London School of law is one of the UK’s leading institutions and we receive a new batch of eager students each October; embarking on the three years that should take them to the Law Society. We also get quite a few foreign students from all over the world, seeking an education at one of the world’s best schools of law. I was just starting my third year when my professor visited my office, around two weeks from the beginning of term:
“Good morning Sam, I trust you are well,” the tall balding man in his late fifties opened the conversation as he did many times, in my office.
“Good morning professor,” I replied standing up to shake his hand. “What brings you to my office on this glorious morning?”
“Well Sam, I have an opportunity for you,” continued the professor. “I’ve just come from a meeting with the dean and she has informed me that our school is setting up a partnership with a school of law in the small Arabian island of Kumar. As part of our new partnership, the dean has asked me to recommend one of my best tutors to spend the next term in Kumar city, lecturing their students.”
“Are you asking me to go to Kumar for a year,” I quizzed the professor?
“Yes Sam I am,” replied the professor. “You’ve been with me two years and have shown an amazing aptitude for teaching criminal law so I think you will enjoy this challenge.”
I thanked the professor for his support and for the next half-an-hour we discussed the package, which included three return flights back to the UK (Business class of course) during the first year. If I wanted to extend the visit this would also be possible and while the school would provide me with a house in Kumar City (in the grounds of the school), I would still be paid in the UK as an employee of the London School of Law.
For the next week, I thought long and hard about the professor’s offer. I’d just broken up with my long term girlfriend and being single, I had no ties to London. For these reasons, I entered the professors office on the following Monday and accepted his offer.
Two days later, the professor brought a girl in her late thirties to my office:
“Sam, may I introduce you to Amara, from the Kumar school of Law?
“Nice to meet you Amara,” I responded, shaking the hand of a very attractive girl of Indian origin with long black hair and a smile to warm the heart of any man.
Now I have to admit that I’ve always had a thing for Indian girls but Amara was certainly special! Like most Indian girls, Amara was short but well proportioned. She was smartly dressed in a silk blouse, short skirt and black tights or stockings (another favourite of mine). Around Amara’s neck was a long (very long) multi coloured silk scarf wrapped around her neck once and the two ends dangling to below the hem of her mini skirt.
“Good morning Mr. Jones,” said Amara, breaking off from shaking my hand. “The professor has told me all about you and I’m looking forward to working with you in Kumar.”
The professor then said his goodbyes and left Amara who was allocated from the Kumar School of Law to take me through some cultural differences between our two countries.
“Mr. Jones, I will assume that you have never been to Kumar,” explained Amara as she sat down in the chair normally allocated to students asking for my support as their tutor. “Kumar is a very different country to England and our cultures are very different.”
“I’m sure they are Amara,” I responded. “First of all, you may call me Sam and while I find the whole Islamic scene a little weird, I will however fully respect the laws of your country.”
“I’m glad to hear that Sam,” continued Amara. “The first thing I must tell you is that you will be the first ever man teaching in the female only part of our school. In Kumar, girls must be veiled while in public at all times so we are a little concerned about bringing a man into the female only part of the school. The dean and I however believe that you will bring experience that the girls will only benefit from!”
“I appreciate your confidence in me Amara,” I continued my questioning. “What do you mean the girls will be veiled at all times in public? Surely you do not mean I will have a class full of Burka clad girls in their twenties?”
“Yes, that is exactly what you will have,” responded Amara. “According to the laws of Kumar, all females will respect the strictest Purdah and therefore while in public and in the company of a strange man, we will all have to be veiled and in Kumar, that means a Burka with our entire bodies covered, including our eyes.”
“How will my students be able to see to read and write if their eyes are veiled Amara,” I quizzed this extremely attractive girl, who had the sweetest smile and the most intoxicating voice.
“Ah Sam, the eye veils are always a thin mesh so our vision isn’t badly restricted,” replied Amara.
Over the next week, Amara and I spent more and more time together as she brought me up to speed on a country that seemed bizarre to say the least. I’d seen many females in London wearing Burka’s and always felt that they looked miserable within the all encompassing tent. Amara on the other hand explained that she felt naked without her Burka but being from India, she always took the opportunity to be free of the Burka when in another country.
On the Following Sunday, I found myself on a British Airways 777 on route from Heathrow to Kumar City. Amara had left on the Friday night and promised to meet me at the airport on arrival in Kumar City.
Arrival in Kumar:
It was very strange experience arriving in Kumar. About 100 miles out and descending into the night, all the females around me in Club Class, started to veil. Most used a quick trip to the washroom to fetch bundles of cloth from the storage lockers and soon I was surrounded by woman wearing tents, with absolutely no facial expressions. As the airplane doors opened, even the female BA crew members, covered the heads and faces in dark blue corporate silk scarves, leaving only their eyes visible. As I entered the emigration hall, I met my first female in an all encompassing black Burka with only a mesh square in her face to look at:
“Your reasons for coming to Kumar Sir,” asked the female emigration officer?
“I’m here to teach at the Kumar School of Law,” I responded.
“How long will you be in Kumar,” asked the faceless official?
“Until June I expect,” I replied. “I do however have three tickets home throughout the term.”
“Welcome to Kumar Mr. Jones,” she then replied, stamping my passport at the same time.
I then headed to baggage reclaim and picked up my three large cases. On route through customs, I was stopped by a man in a uniform with a female colleague in a black Burka standing beside him:
“Excuse me Sir, what is your reason for coming to Kumar?”
I then approached the customs officer and smiled at the Burka clad female, before looking back at the male officer:
“I’m here until June to teach at the Kumar School of Law.”
“Ah, my sister is studying law at that school,” the female Burka clad officer joined the conversation.
After a few more questions, I was free to go and entered the large arrivals hall, with absolutely no sign of Amara.
“Over here Sam,” I heard a familiar voice!
“Amara is that you,” I called out, looking at female covered from head to toe in the usual black tent with only a square of mesh in the region of the eyes:
“Yes, it is me,” replied Amara. “Who did you think it was?”
I laughed and told Amara that I would never get used to females having to wear those ridiculous tents but Amara just laughed back, telling me that I’d little choice while in Kumar.
Both Amara and I sat in the back of a dark blue Mercedes S-Class on route to the university. She explained that the school had a fleet of cars just like this one and I had constant access to a car and driver while in Kumar:
“I suppose you couldn’t drive wearing that thing,” I teased Amara who must have been starring at me from behind her veil.
“No silly,” she responded, putting her gloved hand on my knee. “Females are not allowed to drive in Kumar.”
I just laughed in response as we drove through the streets on Kumar City, where I now got the picture of thousands on men and woman, the woman all covered in these Burka tents of many different colours. Even some of the men wore head coverings that hid their faces:
“Amara, are men supposed to veil as well in Kumar, I asked in a bit of a panic?
“Why would you where one Sam,” Amara started to laugh?
“Not unless I had to,” I replied pointing to a group of young men who all had their heads and faces covered by a multi coloured scarf of sorts.
“There all wearing a Shemagh Sam,” explained Amara. “It is a type of desert scarf that was designed to protect your face from the sand and trade winds. Many woman in Kumar hate having to be veiled all the time so more and more are forcing their men to veil as well so you’ll see quite a few men wearing the Shemagh in Kumar.”
“So the Shemagh isn’t compulsory Amara,” I quizzed?
“Not unless your woman demands you wear one,” Amara giggled in response.
I was beginning to like this mysterious girl. I had seen her back in London without the Burka and I liked what I saw back then so I longed to see her beauty again:
“Ah we’re here.” Amara broke the silence as the Mercedes pulled up to a set of heavy gates and spoke to the security guard in Arabic.
As we drove through the vast grounds of the university, Amara pointed out the apartments belonging to the students and then the modern cottages that were provided for the staff:
“This is your cottage,” explained Amara as she pointed her gloved hand towards number 35. “Mine is next door to you (No 33).”
We got out of the car and the driver brought my bags into the open planed living room. As he left, Amara showed me round, explaining that all the staff cottages were the same, all with two bedrooms, two bathrooms and the open planned living room and kitchen. It was plain but modern and cool with the air-conditioning.
“You can surely take that thing off in here,” I suggested to Amara!
“Sadly not,” replied Amara. “According the law of Kumar, I must be veiled at all times in public or in the company of a man who is not my husband, father or brother.”
“Ah; your lose,” I teased in response, looking at the female tent that stood in front of me.
“Actually Sam, I like wearing my Burka,” responded Amara in a semi serious voice.
“I’m sorry Amara, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I replied. “I just thought you might want to relax when around me and out of public. It can’t be easy being stuck in that tent all day and night.”
“Yeah, it is hot under here Sam but I like the security this tent gives me but it is the law,” explained Amara. “Anyway, if you want to unpack your cases, I’ll go next door and prepare some food for us both.”
Now that would be an interesting concept! How would Amara eat, while wearing a Burka? Whatever the answer, it would have to wait as she headed off to her next door cottage and I started the process of unpacking my suitcase.
I knocked on her door around seven, and after a longer than usual wait, Amara arrived at the door:
“Sorry Sam, I had to put on my Burka,” explained a panting Amara.
“No you didn’t Amara,” I responded. “You chose to put it on all by yourself!”
We laughed as Amara led me into the living room and sat me down at the table. It was clear that Amara wasn’t going to join me as she explained that in Kumar; men and woman didn’t eat together so I ate while Amara served me. Shortly after I headed home, Amara explained that she would have her dinner.
Life in Kumar:
For the next term and up until Christmas (my next trip home to London), I settled into a new routine in Kumar. I worked from around seven or eight in the morning to four-ish. This suited my lifestyle perfectly, giving me plenty of time to catch up on swimming, jogging and all things that the wonderful middle-east weather permitted me to do (unlike England). Swimming was an interesting concept in Kumar. The university had two outdoor pools and as you would expect one for males and the other females. Teaching though was an even more interesting concept. My class was made up of twenty girls, all in their late teens, early twenties and all wore the dark blue or black tents that I’d now become accustomed to in Kumar. On the first day of teaching, all of the girls refused to speak to me but slowly over the first two months, around half were now communicating openly and we had an excellent debate during each class and/or lecture. During the one-to-one tutoring, I was struggling with just under half the girls, all of whom just wouldn’t talk to me all. As time passed, I accepted the strange culture and Amara and I grew closer.
It was now mid December and I was preparing to head back to the UK for Christmas so on the eve before my flight, Amara and I were sitting in her living room watching TV, which had become quite normal:
“I’ve really not asked you before Sam but how are you enjoying teaching in Kumar” asked Amara?
“I really enjoy it Amara but I’m concerned about half of my class,” I started. “I do not understand it, half the girls openly communicate with me and take part in my lessons and therefore those girls get the most from my one-to-one session. I just feel that the other girls are not going to do as well because for whatever reason, they don’t like being taught by a man.”
Amara just laughed and turned towards me:
“The reason they don’t talk to you Sam is because they can’t,” laughed Amara.
“Ah, they’re mute are they,” I quizzed?
“Well sort of,” replied Amara. “They are probably gagged.”
There was a stunned silence in the living room and the only sound was that of the TV and the hum of the A/C in the background:
“Gagged Amara, what do you mean, gagged,” I ended the silence?
“It’s just that,” Amara went on to explain. “While the law of Kumar requires all females to be veiled in male company, the law of Purdah requires all females to be silent in public and around men who are not related. That means that half of your class follow the laws of both Kumar and Purdah and therefore I’d guess, in fact I know, they are gagged under their Burka.”
We continued chatting for some time about Purdah and what it meant to be a young girl living under her father’s requirement to adhere to those strictest laws. I should take this opportunity to explain that bondage really excited me and while veiling was a strange form of bondage, being forced to hide behind the veil, gagging was 100% part of bondage:
“Did you have to gag when you were young,” I asked Amara?
“No silly,” replied Amara, placing her gloved hand on my bare leg (I was wearing shorts) like she had done many times before now. “I’m from India and my father isn’t Muslim so I’ve only experienced veiling since I came to teach law here in Kumar.”
“Silly me,” I responded. “So Amara, have you ever experienced gagging when here in Kumar?”
“You are being nosey tonight Sam,” Amara continued. “Some of the female teaching staff and I have gone out into the city at night and yes we have all gone out gagged, to see what it was like?”
“And what was it like,” I continued my interrogation?
“It was fun Sam,” explained Amara. “Because you cannot talk, we had to communicate by writing and in the bars we had to drink using straws, which the barmen automatically served us, guessing we were gagged behind our Burka’s. You see Sam, it is quite normal here in Kumar for females to be gagged under their veil and quite erotic too!”
Now here was a turn up for the books. Amara was starting to loosen up in my company but maybe it was because she was a little drunk from the wine. I should also point out that alcohol in Kumar is freely available, unlike most Arab states. During my briefing by Amara back in London in August, Amara had explained that unlike most other Arab countries, Kumar had given up on trying to forbid alcohol and instead put in place some quite severe punishments for those caught drunk and disorderly but not happy-tipsy-drunks! For me, this meant Kumar was a sociable place to live and enjoy yourself as long as you could get over the fact that men and woman were certainly treated differently.
“What do you mean Erotic,” I continued to question this tented girl who was now leaning against me on the sofa?
“You know Sam,” Amara teased. “Bondage is erotic and that’s why I enjoy being veiled all the time. Its’ part of bondage; and therefore gagging is all part of the bondage scene too!”
“Ah, this all makes sense to me now Amara, you’re a little bit kinky,” I laughed. “Anyway, you could easily remove the gag if you wanted!”
“Not if it’s locked on Sam,” Amara continued trying to make me feel uncomfortable.
“You mean to say Amara that you locked the gag in place before going out and left the key at home,” I joked?”
“Yeap just that,” Amara laughed turning her head to face mine, forcing me to stare at the black mesh covering her eyes.
It was then Amara made the first move, forcing her cloth covered face into mine, trying to push her tongue into my mouth:
“That was unexpected Amara,” I teased, coming up for air. “It might be easier if you weren’t wearing the Burka!”
“Yes it might,” replied Amara coming in for another kiss. “It wouldn’t be as fun though!”
“I don’t know about that,” I continued to push. “I’d like to kiss you properly!”
“There is one option,” replied Amara, getting up and heading towards her bedroom. “I’ll be back in a second, don’t go away anywhere.”
Within only a minute or so, Amara was coming back into the living room, still in her Burka but carrying a bright blue and white silk scarf in her left hand:
“This might seem a bit kinky,” explained Amara; “but if you let me blindfold you, I will remove my Burka?”
“Amara, I’ve already seen your gorgeous face,” I replied.
“Yes you have Sam but not in Kumar,” Amara came back, folding the triangle of silk in a thick band. “As we’re in Kumar, we must respect the laws of this country!”
Amara continued to approach, pulling the thick band of silk across my eyes, turning my world into darkness. She tied a single knot behind my head and then brought the two ends to the front of my face, tying a double knot and at the same time, pulling the thick silk tighter into my face. That completed, I heard Amara rustling with something and I hoped it was her Burka. She then approached me again, straddling my naked knees and forcing her tongue into my mouth. She was an amazing kisser and my dick grew as she pushed harder and harder and her stocking (or tights) clad legs rubbed against mine, driving me completely crazy.
“Fuck, you are wonderful Amara,” I praised, coming up for air.
“Well, thank you Sam,” responded Amara. “Do you want to take this a little further?”
“You’ve clearly got control of the situation Amara,” I teased, “You lead the way!”
With that, Amara, pulled me to my feet, (still blindfolded) and led me towards her bedroom (I hoped). Next thing I knew I was standing with my arms around my girl. She was clearly wearing silk underwear (a Basque), attached to a garter belt and then silk stockings:
“Do you like what you feel Sam,” asked Amara as she stroked my face, teasing the silk that kept my world in darkness?
“You know I do Amara,” I responded as this kinky girl, pulled my shorts off, followed by my boxer shorts.
Next Amara started pulling my T-shirt off:
“Let’s be careful Sam, we don’t want your blindfold to fall off,” she teased!
I laughed and told her that I could easily take it off, lifting my hands to the soft silky scarf that was tied tightly around my head.
“You could Sam, but that would be cheating,” replied Amara. “Anyway, I could always tie your hands behind you back with another scarf, I have plenty of them!”
“Umm, so you could,” I purred in response replacing my hands on Amara’s silky smooth body.
As the night went on, Amara pushed me onto the bed and once again she straddled me, forcing my throbbing dick inside her warm and moist pussy. We fucked on for a few hours but in the end, I never saw Amara’s Indian beauty that night. At some point in the early hours, she replaced her Burka and we fucked again, with her tented and the silk scarf hanging round my neck. This was even more erotic but in the end I left Amara, heading back to my cottage and London the next day.
A New Year, a new Term and a new challenge:
I arrived back in Kumar in early January after a relaxing trip back to the English winter. Amara met me at the airport (wearing a bright red tent) and we went straight out to the city, while our driver took my bags back to the cottage. He agreed to collect us around eleven and Amara and I went out for a drink to one of Kumar’s clubs, favoured by students and teachers alike.
“Why have you brought me here tonight and why the red tent,” I yelled over the loud music?”
“Because it’s Christmas,” replied Amara.
“Christmas was three weeks ago and therefore Santa visited Kumar and London on the eve of 24th December. This is the 8th January,” I yelled!
“Ah but we all went home before Christmas so a number of the staff are celebrating Christmas late,” laughed Amara and she introduced me to seven other red Burka clad females.
“Well ladies are you all going to have a good time tonight,” I yelled as the music got louder or it was just me getting older?”
All I got was a garbled response from them all and I broke down in laughter.
“Ha, you’re all gagged aren’t you,” I screamed in laughter.
All of the red Burka clad ladies nodded their heads.
“So why are you not gagged tonight Amara,” I quizzed, while ordering us all some cocktails?
“Would you prefer it if I was Sam,” replied Amara?
“Not really my dear, just curious,” I teased. “I have to admit that you look sexy in the red Burka!”
Amara just laughed in response, telling me that I must be delirious or actually missed Kumar while in London for Christmas.
As the night wore on, the girls all got quite tipsy and at around eleven, Amara had gone to tell the driver to come back at one o’clock. As she arrived back, Amara brought a group of five smaller black Burka clad females:
“It’s nice to see you back in Kumar,” yelled Alicia, one of my Kumarian students!
“Well thank you Alicia,” I replied. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
Alicia then took me through her three weeks in Kumar with her family and I told her about my holiday in London but clearly these girls were out to party. Just after midnight and a weird time on the dance floor with ten or twelve tented females, I broke off towards the bar with Amara and Alicia on tow (I think).
“So Mr. Jones, Amara tells me that you are going to join us at the trial weekend,” asked Alicia?
“What trial weekend,” I asked?
“Alicia, Mr. Jones and I haven’t talked about the weekend yet,” explained Amara. “I wanted to break this one to him gently!”
“Okay girls, tell me now,” I laughed. “I’m drunk and therefore probably open to anything!”
Alicia then turned her veiled face towards Amara and Amara then nodded, giving Alicia permission to explain:
“It’s really simple,” explained Alicia, approaching much closer to get her voice heard over the loud music. “At the start of each term, the Kumar City court offer over the city court house for us to use for a series of practice trials. Amara helps us out every term and it would be fantastic if you would help us too.”
“I don’t see any reason why not,” I replied, not knowing what I was getting myself into.
On the way back to the university, Amara slept in the back of the Mercedes and it was only the next day (Monday) at lunch did I find out more about the trial weekend.
“Hi Sam,” said Amara, approaching from the far side of the university enterence hall. “Alicia has now given me the details of the trial weekend on Saturday and Sunday.”
“Oh yes and what have you gotten me into,” I asked sarcastically?
Amara then explained to me that I would be on trial for an inappropriate public display of affection:
“And who did I have this inappropriate public display of affection with Amara,” I asked?
“Me of course,” replied Amara.
“Well that’s okay then Amara,” I laughed. “So will you be on trial too?”
Amara then explained that the court hearing was set for four on Saturday afternoon and I should arrange to be driven about an hour in advance. Amara said that she would be there all day, helping the young law students as they dealt with a real Kumarian judge. This sounded all very exciting and we continued our week, towards the trial weekend. I should say that Amara and I spent most evenings with each other and enjoyed some more passion with her either tented or me blindfolded!
I arrived at the Kumar City Central Court House at just before three on Saturday. I was met by one of my students, wearing an official courthouse uniform of dark blue jacket, trousers and Niqab. It was normal in Kumar for police officers and other official government females to wear these less restricted outfits:
“Good afternoon Mr. Jones, I have the script here for you to read before I escort you for your trial,” she explained, handing me a piece of paper:
The two defendants were caught by Kumarian police officers on Sunday 8th January while outside a Kumarian night club, holding hands and showing affection for each other in public. While the female defendant was dressed appropriately in a red Burka, the male defendant of western origin was without Shemagh. On questioning by police the male defendant showed absolutely no respect for Kumar or Purdah.
At 4PM on Saturday 14th January, both defendants will be tried for inappropriate display of public affection.
Umm, really interesting I thought to myself as I read the charges against me and Amara. Come to think of it, where is Amara? As the veiled female official returned I asked her:
“Where is Amara?”
“If you follow me Sir, I’ll take you to her as the court is now waiting for you both,” replied the young student, playing her part as a court official.
We took the elevator to the basement level, where I realised we were in the holding cell area. As we walked down a short corridor, I looked at the empty holding cells, all lying open until I got to the last one, where Amara was being led out by another young female official:
“Hey Sam, great to see you,” greeted Amara.
“Nice to see you too Amara,” I replied. “Were you in a cell?”
“Yes,” replied Amara. “I like the students to have a very real scene this weekend and as a result, I get to spend some time in one of these calls, awaiting my trial.”
We were both led up a short staircase to the dock, a square area at the side of the court room, which was barred off, clearly to keep defendants away from the court itself. A female clad in a bright red tent then approached the bars of the dock:
“Good afternoon Mr. Jones, I’m the judge this afternoon and we all really appreciate you giving your time this afternoon to help these students,” explained the lady clad in the bright red Burka.
“It’s no problem at all your honour,” I replied. “I’m delighted to be able to help these students.”
Pleasantries over, the female judge headed towards her position at the head of the court. We all stood in respect and Alicia opened the proceedings for the prosecution:
“Your honour, it’s late now and we’ve all had a long day. I propose we adjourn this particular case until the morning!”
I turned towards Amara:
“Where is this going?”
“I’m not sure Sam,” replied Amara but I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it.
“I agree,” responded the judge,” to Alicia’s requested to push our case back to the morning. Does the defence accept the prosecution’s request?”
It was then a smaller student in a blue Burka stood up and turned towards the judge:
“Surely this is an easy case for you, your honour. The defendants made a silly mistake and I’ve no doubt you can take some sympathy with Mr. Jones who is a foreigner and new to Kumar and offer both some leniency?”
Alicia then stood up:
“Point of order your honour,” said Alicia with some authority. “Both defendants have shown little respect for the laws of Purdah and absolutely no respect for the law according to Kumar. Surely the defence will respect the seriousness of the offence carried out on Sunday last and give us all time to get to the truth?”
Alicia was certainly a strong advocate and out-did the poor girl that was supposed to defend us:
“I agree with the prosecution, court in recess until tomorrow morning ten o’clock,” yelled the female judge banging her gabble on the bench!
“Before we break up for the night you honour, the prosecution requests that both defendants are remanded in custody and therefore will have no option but to return to court tomorrow morning,” requested Alicia in a bizarre turn of fate.
Our defence lawyer tried in vain to ensure Amara and I were free for the night but in the end, the judge sided with the prosecution and with the second banging of her gabble, we all rose and the court was in recess. I then turned to leave the dock but two court officials approached taking hold of both my arms, forcing them behind my back. Little did I know and therefore having no time to respond to the situation, I felt hinged handcuffs being locked around both wrists.
“Don’t fight them Sam,” asked Amara. “It’s only a game and one I think you might enjoy!”
With that, Amara and I were led back down to the cells and directed into the first cell on the right as we came down the stairs. Amara went in first and I followed. As soon as I passed the heavy iron door, I heard it slam closed behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I then turned towards the closed and now locked door and yelled:
“Okay, this game has gone too far, come back and at least remove these handcuffs!”
Amara who was now sitting on the wooden bench in the cell tried to calm me down:
“Sam, come here and sit down beside me,” asked Amara in a calm tone?
“What’s going on Amara, I didn’t sign up for this,” I replied. “Anyway, why are my hands cuffed, surely the game doesn’t have to include bondage?”
“Actually Sam, these trial weekends are as real as it gets in Kumar and you’re lucky,” Amara went on to explain. “My hands have been cuffed behind my back since just after lunchtime, when I arrived at the court house.”
“What, you’re handcuffed under that tent,” I questioned Amara?
“Yes Sam,” replied Amara. “I’m handcuffed and have been for over two hours now.”
I just looked at Amara who was wearing one of her silk or satin black Burka’s. I would have had no idea she was handcuffed under it. This took was an erotic moment and caused my dick to swell within my trousers. I then sat down beside Amara on the wooden bench:
“What will happen to us now,” I asked?
“I’m not sure Sam,” replied Amara. “I think they will come and release us in ten or fifteen minutes and we’ll be back here tomorrow.”
It was then I heard the key being turned in the cell door lock and the two girls, in court official uniforms entered our cell. As the two females approached, one was clearly holding a pile of black material in her hands:
“Please stand up Mr. Jones’,” the first girl asked?
Without thinking I stood up and the second official held me from behind while the other female official pulled the black cloth, which I now recognised as a Burka, the same as Amara was wearing:
“You’re not putting that tent on me,” I screamed, trying to pull away.
“Yes we are,” responded the second female official (holding me from behind), allowing the first female to place the Burka hood over my head, spreading the rest of the tent down over my entire body.
I struggled as best I could but I was handcuffed and the second official held me very tightly. It was too late and I was now tented for the first time. Amara was now standing beside me and I starred at her through the thin mesh on my Burka:
“What have you gotten me into this weekend Amara,” I cried?
“Relax Sam,” replied Amara as the two officials led us out the cell and into the long corridor. “I’m sure no harm will come to either of us.”
Amara and I were led into the elevator and outside into the warm Kumarian evening. I was extremely self-conscious and nervous about being outside:
“Sam, please relax,” said Amara. “No one will ever guess that you are a man under the Burka, never mind a handcuffed man, so just go with the game and you might actually enjoy the experience!”
A dark blue Mercedes minivan then pulled up outside the court and the two officials helped Amara and I into the back of the luxurious interior. They both jumped in themselves and slid the side door closed. We were now off through the streets on Kumar to an unknown location:
“Where are you taking us,” I asked respectfully?
“To jail for the night,” replied one of the two females in the court official’s uniform.”
“You don’t really mean jail,” I pushed?
“Mr Jones,” explained the other official, entering the conversation. “You two are going to spend tonight in the basement cells in the main university building. You’ll be unaware that the university used to be a secure hospital and the tight rooms are still located in the basement. They have been used as store rooms for many years but the dean allowed us to clear them all out and the basement will be our playroom for the weekend.”
I then turned to face Amara, through the mesh of my Burka:
“Did you know about this Amara,” I asked?
There was a silence in the minivan as we headed back towards the university:
Amara just laughed, telling me that she knew about the basement cells but had no idea she would be spending the night in one. Silence was once more settling in the back of the minivan as we entered the university grounds, coming to a halt at the front of the building. The two female officials then escorted Amara and I outside and as we climbed the steps to the old building, about forty students welcomed us inside, cheering and clapping. We were then led to the sound of cheering and singing towards the stairs down to the basement and once there, we were directed inside separate cells (opposite each other). Once again as soon as I moved inside, the heavy door slammed closed, with a nerve-racking clang! As soon as I heard the door slam, I turned to face the grey steel, screaming at the top of my voice:
“Come back here and let me out!”
As you would expect, no one came back for me so I was left to check out my surroundings. The cell was small with no windows and therefore no natural light. The single strip-light in the ceiling was protected behind a steel mesh. There was a made up bed along one wall and a small table and chair along the opposite wall. Behind a plastic shower curtain there was a WC, wash hand basin and small shower cubical. ‘This was no tight room, I thought to myself; this was a jail cell and here I was locked inside, still handcuffed and wearing the heavy black satin Burka that the girls forced over my head about 30 minutes ago in the court house.’ With absolutely nothing to do, I sat on the small bunk, which had been made up with a lime green duvet, which contrasted with the bright white walls, which had been recently painted due to the distinctive paint smell. Yes, I loved bondage and I enjoyed being handcuffed but never have I been cuffed without any chance of escape. I also fantasised about these weird Burka’s that seemed to be part of the oppressed Arabian female world. As I sat in the tiny cell, I reflected on the fact that I was now part of this seemly oppressed Arabian female world. Amara clearly enjoyed wearing the Burka and now I was getting a firsthand experience of the heavy, all encompassing satin material myself. Actually, it wasn’t that bad and to be honest it didn’t matter if you were a stunner or and ugly girl, to outside eyes all females looked the same and the mystery was really turning me on. As I sat there in my day-dream, I was brought back to the present time with a key turning in the cell door and a tall female in a white Burka entering my cell. I struggled to my feet, which wasn’t easy with my hands locked behind my back and the heavy satin Burka, effectively trapping my body:
“It’s okay Mr Jones, just relax,” came the deans calming voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes dean I’m fine but a little confused,” I replied.
“If you want me to ask for your release, it can be done in a few minutes,” explained the dean. “I have to admit you are very brave taking part in this trial weekend and I applaud your enthusiasm.”
“Being frank dean, I didn’t expect to be locked in this cell, handcuffed and forced to wear a Burka,” I continued.
The dean, covered from head to toe in her white all encompassing Burka then sat on the bunk beside me and told me that this trial weekend had taken a different turn this term and the students would get used to seeing justice through from crime to trial and then sentencing. As she talked to me in her calm tone, I told the dean that I was delighted to help out and while this was a little over the top, I would see the weekend through. As she got up to leave me once more, the white tent turned towards me and asked if there was anything she could get me:
“Yes dean,” I replied. “It is lonely in here all on my own. Is there any chance Amara and I could enjoy each other’s company?”
The dean explained that she would see what she could do and soon I was alone once again, as the heavy cell door slammed behind her. I at alone for only a few more minutes when the cell door opened once more and Amara slid inside, still covered head to toe in her back Burka:
“Is that you Amara,” I asked the female figure approached the cell door slammed closed behind her?
“Yes Sam it is me,” replied Amara, sitting down on the cell bunk beside me. “How are you coping with your first trial weekend?”
I just laughed and told Amara that this was certainly a novel way to give students an insight into the real world of crime and justice.
“So you are enjoying yourself Sam,” Amara continued questioning?
“Actually it is fun,” I replied. “I’m enjoying the handcuffs and even the Burka. I feel as if I could go outside wearing one and no one would know I was a guy!”
“Umm,” replied Amara. “I didn’t expect that response but I’d like to see where that might lead another time.”
Amara then turned towards me and pushed her veiled face into mine and we tried to kiss as best we could, through the thick satin material of our Burka’s. We collapsed on the tiny prison cell bunk and chatted until the heavy door once again was being unlocked.
“Good evening you too,” Alicia opened the conversation. “I see you are both comfortable in there.”
“When are you going to release us,” I asked, trying to get some composer in front of one of Amara’s senior students?
“You’ve been told Mr Jones that you’ll be kept here until tomorrow morning when we take back to court,” replied Alicia. “Its dinner time and therefore we’re going to separate you two for the night and release your hands from those very useful handcuffs.”
As Alicia led Amara away from the night, another black figure entered my cell and put a tray down on the table opposite my bed. She then picked up a key and ushered me to turn around so that she could unlock my hands. I guessed this girl must have been gagged but I allowed her to remove the cuffs and I rubbed the circulation back into both wrists as she left the cell, once again locking me inside. Free of the handcuffs, I was able to pull the heavy Burka off my body and hanging it on a hook near the locked door. It was then time to take a well earned piss before settling down to dinner, which was very nice but I have to say that it was very boring locked in the cell with absolutely nothing to do. At around eight o’clock, Alicia returned with the silent black figure to take away the tray and leave me something to wear for the night:
“I realise that the night shirt isn’t really you Mr. Jones but I’m sure you” cope,” explained Alicia. “I must say that you’re being a brilliant sport Mr Jones and all the students involved in this trial weekend really appreciate your support.”
“I’m delighted to help Alicia,” I replied. “I have to say that you did a great job in court today. What are you hoping to achieve tomorrow?”
Alicia took the time now to sit on the chair inside my cell (while I sat on the bunk):
“I think that I can achieve a guilty verdict,” replied Alicia. “I don’t think it will be difficult bearing in mind that a year-one student is defending you and quite frankly, she’s not up to the task.”
“I accept that she is a little wet behind the ears Alicia but surely you would have preferred a better challenge,” I teased.
“This is a competition Mr, Jones and one I don’t plan to lose tomorrow,” responded Alicia, getting up to leave the cell. “Have a goodnights sleep because you’ll need it tomorrow!”
And that was that! I was once again locked inside the cell for the rest of the night. I checked out the nightshirt that Alicia had left of me. It was made of light weight cotton and as I investigated further, I realised that Alicia had left me a sleeping Burka. After a trip to the bathroom, I slipped out of my cloths and pulled the cotton sleeping Burka over my body. It was tight but soon my head was inside the built in hood (with a light mesh covering over both eyes) but with no arms, I struggled to the pull the light material down over my body. Getting into bed and pulling the duvet over me was another task in itself but soon I was heading off to the land of nod.
I was tired so sleep came soon but so did morning as I was woken up by the noise of the cell door being opened and Alicia entering with a black tent carrying a tray of breakfast:
“I’ve brought you breakfast Mr Jones and some fresh cloths to wear,” explained Alicia. “I’ll be back in an hour so please be dressed and waiting with your Burka on please?”
And that was that, I was once more alone and locked inside the cell. Getting out of the sleeping Burka was a challenge because it was tight and my arms struggled to pull the cotton off my body. Once free of it, I headed into the shower, had a shave and with a towel wrapped round my waist, I ate breakfast. Time to check out the cloths Alicia had left me and that was the biggest shock of the morning! ‘What was going on I thought to myself?’ Alicia had left me girl’s cloths! A black bra and pants; a pair of black opaque tights and a long black dress, a pair of long opera gloves and black slippers! I’d no choice but to carry on with this game so I slipped into the female clothing and actually enjoyed the feeling of the silky bra and pants but the tights felt fantastic on my legs as I pulled them up over my arse. They were very thick and hid my leg hairs well behind the soft, stretchy material. I was confronted with the long black dress. It opened in the back via a zip and soon I pulled the inner lined material over my body and slipped my arms into the short sleeves. The dress was made of heavy polyester type material and with the zip now pulled up; my neck was already feeling the pressure from the tight material. As I explained, the dress was long and ended just above my ankles. I would say that it was certainly not a sexy dress but suited the ultra conservative Kumarian way. At least I wasn’t forced to wear heels! Alicia has left me a pair of flat sandals (black of course), which were certainly designed for a man, with feet my size. Finally I picked up the long black opera gloves. They were very tight and therefore I struggle to pull the silky soft material over both hands, then my arms until finally the gloves reach the short sleeves of my dress. Once I was dressed, I took a look at myself in the mirror, which was in front of the sink in the tiny curtained off bathroom / shower area. I looked hideous in the black dress but the bra was gel filled and therefore well padded but with my make face and short hair, I looked really stupid. The Burka however fixed all of that. As soon as I pulled the cap onto my head and eased the black satin material over my body, all hints of my male complexion were gone and I just stood in front of the mirror, starring at the tented figure that offered absolutely no hint that a man was beneath the layers of soft satin. My dick was now budging in my silk pants and it was at that point a female wearing the officials inform entered the cell with a heap of chains in her hands:
“Please stand still while I prepare you for the journey to court Mr. Jones,” she demanded!
I was then subjected to the humiliating routine of having my hands cuffed behind my back and my ankles locked into leg-irons that were attached to my handcuffs via a long chain. I was now led out for the cell to see Amara in the same humiliating state on attire and bondage, leaving her cell:
“Good morning sweetie,” she laughed as we were escorted outside to the waiting Mercedes minivan but with no crowds this morning.
The journey was quick and no one really said much. Amara was interested if I slept okay but in the main, we looked outside the darkened windows of the minivan until we arrived at the back of the court house. In the opposite routine from yesterday afternoon, Amara and I were led back to the same holding cell and locked inside together:
“What’s going on Amara,” I asked, settling down beside her on the wooden bench?
“What do you mean, what’s going on,” replied Amara. “You know what’s going on! We’re here for our trial.”
“That’s not what I mean Amara,” I continued in a frustrated voice. “Alicia has forced me to wear a dress under this Burka!”
Amara just laughed!
“What Sam, you’re telling me that you’re dressed as a girl under the tent,” laughed Amara!
“Yes Amara, I’m wearing female underwear, tights and a black dress, not to mention long gloves,” I explained.
“That’s fantastic Sam, I never thought Alicia would actually do that,” Amara continued to laugh!
“What do you mean Amara,” I panicked.
“Well Sam, it’s actually my fault,” explained Amara. “Alicia asked what clothes she could fetch from your apartment and I told her that it would be fun if you dressed as a girl today since you talked about it last night.”
“Yeah Amara, I remember the conversation last night,” I continued. “I didn’t expect you would arrange for this today; my day in court!”
Just then the two females dressed in official court uniforms came to escort us back to the dock. As the judge entered the bench, banging her gabble:
“The high court of Kumar city is now in session!”
The judge then turned towards Amara and I sitting in the dock, the judge laughed:
“I see Mr, Jones is more appropriately dressed this morning!”
I then starred back at the judge, sitting thirty feet away:
“Not that I had much of a decision in my attire this morning your honour!”
The court room all laughed as the judge asked the prosecution (Alicia) to make her case:
“This case is very simple your honour,” Alicia opened. “Mr. Jones was seen outside a nightclub last Sunday night with his arm around Amara. His hand was wondering all over her shrouded body and not only did it offend the public, the police officers that arrested Mr. Jones said that he abused them and made fun of the laws of our great island nation.”
Alicia then went into detail as Amara and I sat quiet, listening to the court proceedings. Our brief (defence lawyer) was hopeless and soon the judge turned towards the doc again:
“Amara, how do you plead,” asked the judge?
“I accept that Sam was touching me last Sunday night but I was drunk and encouraged his advances,” explained Amara. “He’s a good man and hasn’t been in Kumar long so I accept full responsibly for leading him astray!”
The judge thanked Amara for her honesty and then turned towards me:
“What do you have to say for yourself Mr. Jones,” asked the Judge in her bright red all encompassing Burka?
“I’m deeply sorry that I offended your country your honour,” I pleaded, trying my best to make light of the situation. “I’m new to Kumar and I was drunk but I accept that there is no excuse for my behaviour.”
The judge went silent for a few minutes and then looked up at us both, asking us to stand:
“Amara, I accept your honesty but I cannot let your actions go unpunished,” the judge summarised. “You have led this man astray and therefore I sentence you to one week in the veil of shame!”
And with that her gabble was brought down hard on the bench as Amara gasped. I thought to myself, ‘what the fuck is a veil of shame?’
“As for you Mr. Jones, you bring with you to Kumar a complete lack of respect for Kumar and the laws of Purdah,” the judge started to hand down my sentence but I’ve no idea where it would lead. “You are clearly a lot more subdued in your choice of attire today and therefore I will hand you down the same sentence: one week in the veil of shame!”
Once more the gabble came down and Amara and I were led back to the holding cell:
“What the fuck is a veil of shame Amara,” I asked?
“It is a simple but effective punishment Sam,” explained Amara. “The veil of shame is a plastic mask that will be sealed on our heads, covering our faces for the next week. It is hideous but very effective due to the fact that females being forced to wear one; never remove their Burka’s and are forced to accept the strictest laws of Purdah.
“Yeah but they’re not really going to make us wear one are they,” I panicked?
“I’m not sure Sam,” replied Amara.
At that moment, the two court officials led Amara away. About twenty minutes later, she was back and said nothing as I was led out of the cell. I was taken to a small room near the basement cells, where female in a court uniform was clearly working on something on a bench. The two females then forced me to my knees and held me tight as the other official looking female in her navy blue uniform and light blue Niqab approached, pulling the heavy Burka from my body:
“Ah much easier than your co-accused,” she explained. “Short hair makes this procedure so much easier!”
As she went back to her bench, she approached with a black mask and pulled it over my head:
“According to the law of Kumar, you Samuel Jones have been sentenced to wear the veil of shame for a period of one week,” explained the female in an official tone. “Because you showed remorse in the court room today, her ladyship the judge, has reduced this sentence to five days so if you return to the court on Friday afternoon, we will remove the veil of shame and you will be free to carry on your life.”
The official then explained that the first mask, a thin layer of cotton which covered my entire head was to protect my hair and face from the heat of the plastic veil of shame. This thin hood that I now wore had two holes for my eyes and a single hole for my mouth. Soon the female official was placing a hot plastic plate to the back of my skull. I gasped due to the heat and then she slipped the front of the plastic mask over my face, pressing it hard against the back plate. Holding it in place, she counted to fifty and then let go. She then fetched a type of gun, which blasted the side on my new plastic head with a cloud of cold frozen steam.
“You can replace his Burka ladies,” explained the official. “Now Mr. Jones, if you tamper with the veil of shame during the next five days, your sentence will be doubled!”
With those final horrifying words, I was led back to the holding cell and Amara who was sitting on the wooden bench.
“I suppose you’re wearing a veil of shame as well Amara,” I asked sarcastically?
“Yes Sam I am and before you say anything, I’d no idea this was going to happen,” replied Amara in a soft tone.
“Well Amara, let’s just make the best of it,” I laughed.
Soon the judge returned to the cell and thanked us for our support and apologised for the actually carrying through with the sentence:
“You’re suffering for the next week should deter your young students from doing something silly,” explained the female judge.
“I’m glad we could have been of help,” I replied, continuing my sarcastic tone.
It was then that the two court officials returned to unlock and remove our handcuffs and leg irons, quickly followed by Alicia:
“You’re free to go,” joked Alicia! “Enjoy the veils of shame and with that we were directed out of the court house and into the back of a waiting university car.
As we got out of the car, both Amara and I entered my cottage:
“Okay Sam, let’s see you,” demanded Amara?
“I’ll show you my veil will you show me yours,” I joked in response.
As I pulled the Burka from my body, Amara removed hers, revealing her slim body, wearing a silk blouse, tight jeans and her black plastic mask covering her entire head.
“Actually the dress suits you Sam,” laughed Amara, “But the mask really turns me on!”
She then approached and tried to kiss me through the thin layer of plastic that covered my head. Amara’s attempts were unsuccessful and she retreated in defeat:
“Fuck, these masks are going to be frustrating,” she growled! “At least we didn’t get the gag treatment as well!”
“What Amara,” I quizzed. “Was there ever a possibility that we could have been gagged as well?”
“Yes Sam,” replied Amara. “In some cases, the judge will add to the sentence a gagging order. This means the person (typically a girl) has a different front piece added to her mask, which includes a large tongue, which is forced into her mouth, keeping her silent for the period of the sentence.”
“That’s ridiculous Amara,” I replied in disgust. “How would the poor girl eat during her sentence?”
“Sam, ladies are used to being gagged in Kumar and as a result we’ve become quite adapt to loosing the use of our mouths,” Amara continued. “It just means we’re forced onto a liquid diet. It is not a nice way to eat but it works and does wonders for your figure!”
I just laughed and told Amara that Kumarian law was ridiculous and I was off to get changed into some male cloths.
“Not so quick Mr, Jones,” teased Amara, grabbing hold of me once more, pulling me close and rubbing her hands along the crotch region of my dress, having the desired effect on my pulsing manhood.
We then headed off to bed for an afternoon of passion. For the first time since arriving in Kumar, I saw Amara’s naked body except for the hideous veil of shame that we were forced to wear until Friday.
Living with the veil of Shame:
The next week was a rollercoaster of emotions. First of all, after taking Amara’s advice, I started to wear a Burka to work. I used the same black satin Afghani tent that I’d worn during the trial weekend but I have to admit that wearing it had the completley opposite effect than I expected. First of all, my university class opened to me for the first time. I mean all the girls started taking part in my classes and my one-to-one tutorials. During Monday lunchtime, Amara came and sat with me in my study and we ate lunch together, which was another first in public.
“What has changed this week Amara,” I asked? “All the girls in my class are now talking to me and taking part in the lessons.”
“It’s simple Sam,” replied Amara. “You’ve taken the Burka so you’re now one of us!”
“Do you mean if I continue to wear this Burka, the females in my class will all play their part in my lessons,” I continued to question Amara?”
At that point the dean arrived in my office:
“Good afternoon Sam and Amara,” she opened the conversation. “I heard about your sentences and I’m really pleased that you’ve both entered into the spirit of the trial weekend.”
The dean who was wearing a black tent (just like Amara and I) also advised us that we would get a bonus at the end of the month for taking part in the trial weekend and being inconvenienced by the veil of shame for give days:
“Thank you dean,” I responded to the good news.
“I also hear that your classes are going much better now that you’re veiled,” laughed the dean.
“Yes dean, the girls are now taking part and have all removed their gags, which means they’ll get a much better education,” I responded. “If this continues, I might even veil from now on during the week!”
Both Amara and the dean laughed but as she left my office and Amara and I finish our lunch, she turned around:
“Sam, if you continue to veil beyond Friday, I’ll pay you a bonus for your incontinence.”
With the dean gone, Amara and I continued to eat our lunch, which was a trial in itself while wearing a Burka but made even hard due to the veil of shame.
I should point out at this stage of the story; the veil of shame became a real pain! Kumar is a hot country and with a layer of cotton held tight below the thin black plastic mask covering my entire head, I boiled from morning to night. There was also the fact that the plastic veil was designed for a female, who didn’t have to shave so by Thursday night, my growing beard was driving me nuts and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it! Amara was also getting fed up with the veil of shame by Thursday night. The sex during the week was fantastic but by Thursday night, we were both getting depressed with the plastic mask that simply couldn’t be removed.
“I’m sick of this mask,” announced Amara, entering my staff cottage to join me for dinner!
“Me too,” I replied, as I prepared the pasta. “I can’t wait until tomorrow, when we can get out of the fucking things!”
We both settled down to dinner and like every night this week, Amara remained out of her Burka, which she removed each time she entered my cottage:
“Amara, after you get out of the mask tomorrow, will you still take your Burka off when you come here,” I asked, struggling to get the pasta passed the small hole in my plastic mask?
“Well, it depends Sam,” replied Amara. “If you take up the dean’s offer and start wearing a Burka to work, then I’ll treat you like a female and therefore I will come to this cottage without my Burka.”
“Are you blackmailing me Amara,” I teased?
Amara just laughed and reminded me of her kinky side, which took us straight to bed and another night of fantastic sex.
Friday was a short day for us both. Amara had made arrangements for us both to be driven to the city court to have our veils of shame removed. Today being a normal day meant the court for a hive of activity. When we arrived at the clerk’s desk, Amara explained who we were and the female clerk in her official court uniform and Niqab, just stared at me, in my Black Afghani Burka:
“It’s okay Sam, just ignore her,” explained Amara, who then led me to a waiting room with at least five tented females waiting to have their masks removed.
We waited for about an hour before Amara was called in and after ten minutes she was back:
“That’s better.” laughed Amara. I can’t wait to get home and wash my hair and clean my face properly.
“Yeah, I know what you mean Amara,” I joked as I stood up to take my turn. “I’m going to take a long hot bath when I get home tonight!”
As I entered the room where my veil of shame was fitted on Sunday, the female official allowed me to remove my Burka and then she looked straight at me, when we realised I was a man:
“I thought Sam meant Samantha,” shouted the female official?
“No maam,” I replied. “I was sentenced on Sunday as part of the trial weekend.”
The female official checked the serial number of my mask and then looked for signs that it had been tampered with.
“Mr. Jones, this is very unusual,” explained the female official. “Please put on your Burka and return to the waiting area until I make some enquiries?
“No please maam,” I pleaded. “I’m desperate to have this thing removed”
She ignored me and directed me outside towards Amara:
“All done Sam,” said Amara. “I see you enjoyed the Burka so much you’ve chosen to wear it permanently!”
“Please don’t joke Amara,” I explained as I panicked! “The official hasn’t removed the veil of shame when she saw I was a man.
Amara then stood up and headed back to the room. About ten minutes later, she returned:
“Come on Sam, it’s all sorted now,” explained Amara as I headed back to the room to hopefully have the veil of shame removed.
The process to remove the veil of Shame took only a few minutes. Using a special heat gun, the female court official ran the gun along the seam of the mask and within only a few minutes, the two halves started pealing apart. Soon the plastic had come off and I lifted my hands to remove the cotton protection mask:
“No, no,” demanded the female official. “I do not want to see your face so please leave the hood in place, put on your Burka and be on your way”
What a weird process I thought, leaving the court, still wearing a heavy black satin Burka but soon Amara and I were heading back to the university in the back of a Mercedes. Once home, I pulled off the Burka, then the mask to find my face for the first time in a week, with a matted mass of hair trying to grow. My bath was fantastic and I went back to life as normal or as normal as it would get in Kumar!
A special night out in Kumar:
It was now late May and my year at the Kumar School of Law was nearing an end. The students were now taking their exams and I was preparing to head back to the UK for the summer. Amara had put me under a lot of pressure to make a decision on whether to come back next term but at this point I was undecided.
Since January and the trial weekend, I had taken up the deans offer to wear a Burka while teaching and earned quite a lot more money, which was waiting for me back in the UK.
It was now Friday afternoon and I was just saying goodbye to my last student before finishing for the weekend. I would be back on Monday but only to clear out my office and head back to London on the evening flight. I had just shut my PC down when a black tent knocked on my door:
“Hello dearest,” Amara opened the conversation.
“How did you know it was me behind the tent Amara,” I teased.
“Ah sweet Samuel,” replied Amara in a fun tone. “I’ve gotten used to seeing your trousers and black shoes at the base on your Burka. You’re the only guy teaching in this university so there is a very good change it is you, not to mention this is your office, with your name on the door!”
Amara certainly had me there.
“I’m heading back to the cottage, would you like to walk with me Amara,” I asked?
“I’d love to Sam,” replied Amara. “I had come here to invite you out tonight. A number of the staff are heading out into the city tonight to celebrate the end of term and we’d love it if you’d join us?”
“Sure thing pet,” I replied. “I’ll have a quick shower back at the cottage and I’ll have my drinking boots on in minutes.”
Amara just stood there in silence, starring (I think) at me behind the mesh grill of her Burka:
“Actually Sam, the girls thought that it would be good if you came out tonight in a tent,” replied Amara.
“Are you kidding Amara,” I replied, a little shocked at what I was hearing?
As we walked back across the court yard towards the staff cottages, Amara explained that she wanted to dress me up as a girl and put a tent over my head, before gagging me and showing me a night I’d never forget. I have to say that what I heard scared the crap out of me but it also really excited me so after my shower, I appeared in the bedroom of my cottage where Amara had laid out some cloths for me to wear:
- First of all, I was given the padded bra and pants I’d worn back in January. I have to admit that I’d worn them a few times since but only in the privacy of my cottage.
- Once into the bra and pants, I picked up a pair of bright red opaque tights. I’d seen girls wear coloured tights before but to date, I’d never tried a pair myself. They were silky smooth as I pulled them up over my hairy legs. Once over my arse, the panty part of the tights pulled my slightly pudgy stomach in and they rested over the bulge.
- The next item took me by surprise. Amara had left me a Lycra leotard to put on but this particular leotard was shiny black and had long sleeves with built in gloves and a mask attached as well. Pulling the zip from the top of the mask, I opened the shinny Lycra garment and climbed in, pulling the soft stretchy Lycra over my body, sliding my arms into the fingers of the built in gloves. That complete, I pulled the mask over my face and with some difficultly, I eased up the zip until it closed tight at the top of my head.
It was then I heard someone entering my cottage:
“Are you nearly ready Sam,” Amara called?
“Yes Amara, come on in, I yelled from my bedroom!
It was then Amara joined me in the bedroom wearing a bright red satin Afghani Burka with bright leather high heeled boots sticking out from below.
“Fuck me Sam, look fantastic,” screamed Amara, pulling the Burka off her body, revealing the same red tights and black hooded and gloved leotard that I was wearing.
“You don’t look so bad yourself Amara,” I laughed.
It was then she threw her arms around me and kissed me. Our tongues pushed through the open hole of the Lycra hoods and fought in each other mouths. My hands roamed all over Amara’s Lycra covered body and then she broke the moment:
“Are you ready to go out Sam,” asked Amara?
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied. “Do I get to wear a red Burka?”
Amara then led me out into the living room and there I saw a pair of red leather boots and a pile of bright red satin cloth, which no doubt was a Burka. Amara helped me into the boots, which were my size:
“I had these made especially for you Sam,” explained Amara as she zipped up the side. “The heel is quite low so you’ll be able to walk.”
“These are great Amara, where did you get them,” I quizzed?
Amara explained that the other teachers were so impressed with me wearing the Burka since January; they especially ordered my gear for tonight’s special trip out. Next Amara picked out a large red ball with a black leather strap:
“Once this is on, it isn’t coming off until we get home Sam so have you any last words?”
I just laughed and suggest that she should get on with it, which Amara did, pushing the red sponge into my mouth and buckling the strap behind my head. I then felt her pop a padlock into the buckle to ensure that even with my hands, it wasn’t coming off. From behind Amara then brought her arms around in front and started rubbing her gloved hands across my Lycra covered chest, bring them down and paying special attention to the growing bulge appearing the Lycra crotch. As she sensuously rubbed my body, I brought my arms behind my back to probe her crotch but that was a mistake because with an extremely swift move, Amara grabbed my arms, and the next thing I felt and heard was the distinctive sound of handcuffs being locked around each wrist.
“Umm”, I mumphed into my gag!
“Relax Sam, just a little added security when you out with the girls tonight,” laughed Amara as she lifted the bright red satin Burka over my body.
“There, don’t you look fantastic Sam,” teased Amara as she lifted her Burka over her head.
“Umm, Umm;” I continued to mumph from behind the gag!
I was complaining that Amara wasn’t using a gag herself tonight! I thought that was the big idea on these staff nights out; all the girls went out gagged!
“Ah did wee Sammy think I’d be gagged tonight as well,” teased Amara. “Well not tonight Sam, you’re my Burka slave and I’m going to take complete control of you until you make the right decision to come back next term!”
As panic stricken as I was, I was also as horny as hell and with no use of my arms, I headed out into the even Kumarian heat and a night out in the high spots of Kumar City.
We met the other girls in the usual nightclub and they all greeted me, asking Amara if I was cuffed and gagged, which she insured I was. Drinking wasn’t easy but with the girls help, they took it in turns to lift a glass under my Burka and slide a straw into my mouth, allowing me to take a sip of various cocktails, which simply got me drunk out of my head. We did dance a little. A had gotten used to dancing with tents but never wearing a tent myself and certainly not handcuffed and gagged! By the end of the night, I was completely pissed and needed the help from quite a few of the girls to get me into the back of Mercedes for the short trip back to the university campus. Once at my cottage, Amara helped me out of the car but directed me next door to her house:
“The key to your gag is in my house Sam, not yours silly,” she teased helping me inside.
I flopped onto the couch but Amara used my own weight falling back to pull the Burka off my body. She then straddled me and unlocked the gag, pulling the massive sponge ball from my mouth:
“Thank you darling, I whispered letting my head drop onto Amara’s shoulder.
Amara started kissing me and the erotic moment started to really get me going once again:
“This would easier with my hands,” I tried to persuade Amara to remove my handcuffs?
“Maybe for you Sammy,” teased Amara in response. “You are a drunken Englishman and you come with a violent reputation when you’re drunk so I think your hands being cuffed provide me with a little security!”
I was once again losing consciousness and that’s all I remember of the night out in Kumar.
My last days in Kumar:
I woke up the next morning, with a terrible headache. I was just coming to life when I realised my hands were stuck above my head. This took me a little by surprise but as I focused, I saw they were both handcuffed to Amara’s headboard. I then turned my head to see Amara but she wasn’t there. I had still some difficultly focusing but did manage to focus on the fact that I was naked but Amara was nowhere to be seen:
“Amara are you there,” I called out?
It was then I heard the toilet flush and a very naked Amara returning to bed:
“Ah you’re a-wake lover boy,” laughed Amara!
“I sure am,” I responded. “Are these absolutely necessary,” I asked, jangling the short chain between the locked cuffs attached to both wrists?
“Necessary no,” replied Amara in a sarcastic tone. “They do make you that little bit more irresistible though!”
Amara then jumped me and we made out for the next couple of hours and yes, I remained handcuffed to the bed throughout.
“So Sam,” Amara started to question as she calm down off the ceiling for the third time this morning. “Have you decided to come back next term?”
I just looked at Amara then directed both our eyes towards the handcuffs, pinning me to the bed:
“It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere right now,” I laughed.
“Stop dodging the question Sam,” growled Amara in a playful tone, bashing my head with a feather pillow.
“Okay, okay Amara,” I replied. “I will come back next term if you come to the UK to spend some time with me over the holidays?”
And that’s how I ended up with this gorgeous kinky Indian girl in Kumar. We did spend the summer together in England and during August, I used the time to sell my house, bank the money and head back to Kumar in mid September to start work at the University of Law in Kumar.
Author: Ed Kilpatrick
This was supposed to be s short single veiling story. I’m not sure I could continue it with anything new but who knows where my warped mind will go in the future.