Holiday In Kumar

Holiday In Kumar

by Ed Kilpatrick

holiday_in_kumar

Background:

Thanks to everyone that has contacted me over the months about my series of short stories about a fictional island state in the Gulf called, ‘Kumar.’

It is September 2010 and it has been a long summer and a few stories released for other websites but after a month of writers block, this latest tale has come to me so I really do hope you enjoy.

As usual, this story is being written for the excellent website, “Tales of the Veils” and includes the usual bondage, cross-dressing and of course lot’s of veiling, which is compulsory in Kumar.

 

Setting the scene:

My name is Greg and I’m a single guy from Cambridgeshire. I’ve been single for years now and who can blame a girl for not wanting me because I like to dress up as a girl in my spare time and add bondage when the mood takes me. Anyway, most of you reading this know all this already so let me get on with this tale:

I’ve been communicating with a girl called Aalia from Kumar City for just over six months now. Kumar is an Islamic island state in the Arabian Gulf where females are oppressed and forced to hide behind veils and Burka’s when in public. The idea of veiling excites me because I could go out dressed as a girl under a Burka but to date I haven’t had the nerve to do this in the UK.

I met Aalia online in a chat room (a bondage chat room) just after Christmas and our communication has increased from IM, to e-mail and now Skype. We often spend hours talking to each other and to date we’ve been completely open with each other about our inner most secrets. Over the last few weeks, our online relationship has moved on another notch and Aalia has persuaded me to talk to her on Skype, (using video) while cross dressed as Gena, my alter-ego. Aalia has given me hints and suggestions, which has led to scarf veiling. A few weeks ago, a package arrived for me from Kumar and inside the box were three black satin scarves:

    1. The first covered the top of my head;

 

    1. The second was folded into a triangle and covered my face from my nose down, with the end tied underneath the triangle covering my face and

 

  1. The third scarf covered my head.

For the last week, every time I Skype Aalia, I put on my favourite black bra and pants, black opaque tights and little black dress. To finish off my outfit, I’d veil myself as described above and Aalia and I talk for hours into the evening! I have always loved the soft feeling of female clothing but Aalia’s satin face veiling has really added to my cross dressing experience and also my diversion bondage.

Let me tell you a little about Aalia:

She is 38 (I’m 40) and she lives in her parents’ house on the outskirts of Kumar City. Aalia’s parents died a year back in a car accident and since that day she has moved into the old house, which she has adopted as her own, after her husband took another wife and Aalia walked out on them both.

I have seen Aalia now many times unveiled, which is illegal in Kumar! She is very beautiful and of Indian descent with long dark hair, gorgeous dark skin and the most wonderful piercing brown eyes. Now I have a thing for India girls, especially after watching the movie “Slum Dog Millionaire,” so Aalia did not disappoint me!

Since meeting Aalia online, I’ve learnt so much about Kumar and strange practices of that small but extremely oil rich, Islamic island state. Aalia hates the veil but I have persuaded her to wear her Burka on occasions while chatting with me. I love the way it hides her face and she could be wearing anything below it. In fact Aalia teases me by talking me through every item of underwear she is wearing under her Burka when we chat online. On most occasions she wears a set of in bright red: bra, pants and stockings attached to a red suspender belt. She tells me she wears red for danger but to date I’ve never actually seen her red underwear so I’ve only got her word that she is actually wearing red under her black all encompassing Burka that only has a mesh screen to allow Aalia to see.

Aalia often asks me to show her my handcuffs when online and instructs me to lock my hands behind my back. She seems to love the power that she has over me when handcuffed but who are we kidding; I’ve got the keys in my bedroom and we’re several thousand miles apart?

 

A problem to solve:

I thought that I had struck it lucky with Aalia until a week ago, when I lost contact with her. Her Skype account was displaying as offline and she responded to none of my e-mails. I was getting worried about my cyber girlfriend but quite frankly, there was nothing I could do as I had no way to contact her, except on the internet.

It was therefore a pleasant surprise when I was working from home last Friday afternoon, when my Skype phone starting ringing:

“Hello Aalia,” am I glad to see you, I opened the conversation to a shrouded figure on the other end of the connection.

“Hello Greg, this is not Aalia,” came the strange voice. “My name is Aatifa and I’m Aalia’s sister.”

“Sorry Aatifa,” I replied. “I obviously can’t tell who it is, hiding behind the Burka!”

“I guess not,” replied Aatifa.

After exchanging pleasantries, Aatifa went on to explain that Aalia had been arrested last week and was currently remanded to the Kumar City female prison. I was shocked at the thought that my cyber girlfriend was a criminal but this wasn’t the case:

“Aalia isn’t a bad girl,” Aatifa went on to explain. “She just will not accept our Islamic ways, here in Kumar and she continues to get caught not dressing appropriately.

“What do you mean, not dressing appropriately Aatifa,” I quizzed the shrouded stranger who was using Aalia’s PC?

“It is very simple Greg,” Aatifa continued. “Here in Kumar when outside in public all females are expected to be veiled as per the laws of our beloved country. Aalia continues to fight our ways and this is now the third time she has been caught in public without the appropriate veils!”

“So Aatifa, are you saying that Aalia was caught outside in public without a veil,” I continued my questioning?

“No, not exactly,” replied Aatifa.  “My sister Aalia likes to wear beautiful satin’s and silks from India and does wear silk or satin scarves, covering her head and face but here in Kumar our laws are very strict and appropriate attire for a female is the Burka; which as you can see, completely hides our female figure, including the mesh that hides are eyes.”

I was shocked that Kumar was that strict, yet horny at the same time. Aatifa went on to tel me that because Aalia no longer had a husband or a man in her life to keep her on the straight and narrow, which including dressing appropriately, she had been remanded in custody this time and forced into the mask of shame.

“The mask of shame,” I continued my questioning?

“Yes Greg, the mask of shame,” replied Aatifa. “Here in Kumar if you refuse to dress appropriately, the government can sentence you time in the mask of shame, which is a horrible black plastic mask that is sealed around your head and therefore you cannot remove it for the period of your sentence.”

I was shocked that such barbaric practices still existed in the 21st century but at the same time, my cock was bursting to escape my pants:

“So Aatifa, let’s go back a few steps,” I stopped the conversation. “If Aalia had a husband or a boyfriend, she could serve her sentence at home, instead of prison?”

“That’s correct Greg,” replied Aatifa. “My sister has been sentenced to six weeks in the mask of shame this time, the first four with the gag installed.”

“Aatifa, are you kidding me,” I laughed. “Does your government also gag its’ opponents?”

“Yes,” replied Aatifa. “This is Aalia’s third offence so this time she wears the mask of shame with a gag installed so she will remain silent for the first month of her sentence. After the first month, she will get the mask replaced with a straightforward mask of shame, which forces her to keep her face covered at all times but at least she can eat normally and communicate.”

I thought about what Aatifa was telling me and I had an idea:

“Aatifa, this might sound crazy,” I explained. “What if I were to fly out to Kumar and take care of Aalia during the remainder of her sentence? Would she be allowed to serve the sentence at home with me?”

Aatifa didn’t know but she said that she would get back to me with an answer so I gave this stranger my home phone number and we disconnected from the Skype call.

On the Saturday afternoon, the phone rang and it was Aatifa:

“Greg, I’ve spoken to the authorities and they say that you would need to make a personal plea in front of a judge to gain Aalia’s freedom for the remainder of her sentence.”

“Okay Aatifa, give me a few days to make arrangements to fly out so can I call you when I’ve made a booking,” I asked?

It was set! I would fly out to Kumar City in a little over three weeks and plead for Aalia’s release for the final two weeks of her sentence. I had a quite a lot of holidays saved up so I planned for a two week stay in Kumar but I warned my boos that I might take a little longer if required. Aatifa explained that her husband ‘Sharaz’ would collect me from the airport and take me to Aalia’s home for the first night. I would then appear in front of the judge on the next morning to plead for Aalia’s release for the final two weeks of her sentence.”

 

The holiday begins:

The BA flight from Heathrow took a little under 7 hours to reach Kumar City. I was amazed at the transformation in the cabin as we descended towards our destination! All the female passengers started pulling on Burka’s and covering themselves completely. I had never experienced such changes in my life and apart from seeing the odd Burka clad female in London, I’d never been so close to wanting to know what it was like to shroud from head to toe in public. The arrival hall and process was no different. Females were clearly allowed to work in Kumar as was questioned by a female immigration officer, wearing an official uniform with her head covered in a veil with only two mesh eyes staring back at me:

“What is the purpose of your visit to Kumar,” the female official asked?

“I’m here to spend a few weeks with my friend, if I can get her out of jail,” I replied.

I thought honesty was the only answer and after some more questions, my passport was stamped and I was on my way. The customs officials didn’t stop me and I passed through the green channel to see a dark skinned man holding a card with my name on it:

“You must be Sharaz,” I asked holding out my hand to shake his.

“Yes Greg, I am Sharaz,” responded the man in a Middle East accent.

We walked out to the car park and got into his Mercedes Benz so obviously Sharaz and Aatifa did well for themselves. It was during the half-hour trip to Aalia’s place that Sharaz told me that he was in the oil business and while originally from the UAE, he settled in Kumar after meeting Aatifa four years ago. Aatifa was a school teacher and Sharaz explained that I would meet her tomorrow as she would escort me to the court so try and gain Aalia’s release. When we finally arrived at Aalia’s house or as he put it: Aalia and Aatifa’s late parents home, Sharaz showed me around the expansive property on the outskirts of Kumar City. It was a very large property in the typical Islamic style, where a high wall protected the large inner house from outside eyes:

“This place is massive Sharaz,” I commented as he laid me through the inner court yard and upstairs to one of the many bedrooms.

“Yes Greg,” replied Sharaz. “This home was built in the early 20th century as a guest house.  When Aatifa’s and Aalia’s parents bought it, they converted into a spacious home that befitted their stature in the local society.”

Sharaz explained that his ex father-in-law; (Aatifa’s and Aalia’s father) owned the oil business that he now runs on behalf of Aalia and Aatifa. The girls had a strict upbringing and while Aalia rebelled most of her childhood, Aatifa wanted a life in teaching so it made sense that he take over the daughters business they inherited from their father:

“Greg, the kitchen is well stocked so please make yourself at home,” explained Sharaz as he showed me around the other parts of the expansive property.

I thanked Sharaz for his kindness and explained that I hoped he would allow me to repay his kindness before I went back to England. He just smiled and said that since I came all this way to help his sister-in-law; that was thanks enough.

As Sharaz got back into his car, he turned towards me and said:

“Greg, Aalia needs to be tamed so I truly hope you are the right man for the job. Good luck my friend!”

With that he was gone!

It was around ten o’clock when I finally finished a light dinner and it was time to explore this magnificent home. I counted no less than ten large bedrooms, a small roof terrace when dip-pool but at the back of the property (still within the walled garden) there was a larger pool and a small outhouse. Aalia had told me that she was into bondage in a big way but I didn’t expect to find a stable block that had been turned into a small cell block. There were three cells, all of which were lying open as the heavy iron doors were left ajar. As I walked into the first cell, I came across an inner set of bars that provide added security. The barred door was slid open and I walked into the small cell that had a single bed, a WC and wash hand basin. My dick was now trying to escape my pants as I’d fantasies many times about being kept prisoner at the hands of a mad girl. I then lay on the single bunk and wondered what it would be like to be locked inside this cell? My mind got the better of me so I got up, headed out of the cell to check the other’s which were all the same. Back at the main enterence to the cell block was a wet room with shower and bath but what took my interest the most was the cupboard that housed a myriad of handcuffs, leg-irons, paddles, chains and bondage helmets. I then found the leys to the cells so I had to check out of the keys worked and low and behold, the cell doors could easily be locked and unlocked. The  outer doors had no way to be unlocked from inside so I had to ensure I didn’t get stuck in one but the inner bars could easily be locked and unlocked from the inside so I spent the next hour playing with myself, while locked inside one the cells. In the end, I headed back to the main house and my bedroom for a well earned sleep.

I was up and dressed by the time the front door bell rang and Aatifa stood in front of me, shrouded as I expected:

“Hello Greg, it is really nice to meet you,” welcomed Aatifa as she slipped out her glove covered hand.

“It is really nice to meet you Aatifa,” I replied. “I love this old house, you must have been so lucky to be brought up in such a wonderful place.”

“It was a wonderful place to spend one’s childhood unless you broke the rules,” explained Aatifa. “You might have come across the cells that my father installed in the old stable block and that’s where Aalia and I would spend days if we disobeyed my father or failed in our schoolwork.”

I just laughed as Aatifa told me the story about the cell block:

“I thought it was there to serve Aalia’s fattish,” I laughed, which took Aatifa down with me and we enjoyed a wonderful cup of coffee.

“Greg, my driver is waiting to take us to the prison to meet Aalia,” explained Aatifa. “If Aalia is happy to be placed into your custody, then we can go to see the judge but before we leave, I need to go and find a pair of gloves and a Burka for Aalia to wear because she stupidly forgot (on purpose) to take one with  her, the day she got caught (stupid girl).”

An hour later Aatifa and I had been processed into the very modern remand prison (in separate lines of course). Soon we were waiting in a small room with a table and three chairs and the sound of someone walking down a long corridor in chains coming towards us. As another female shrouded in an orange Burka entered the small room, Aatifa stood up and hugged the Burka clad girl:

“Greg, this is Aalia,” introduced Aatifa.

Aalia came straight towards me and gestured for me to give her a hug:

“It is lovely to meet you at long last Aalia,” I gave the rather grubby orange tent a hug.

All I got was a grunt from Aalia and I laughed remembering that she was gagged.

“Aalia, I’ve come to Kumar to try and get you out of this jail,” I explained. “If Aatifa and I are successful, I plan to have you transferred into my custody and I will take you back to your place until you are free to return to your normal life in two weeks time.”

After Aatifa and I checked that this shrouded girl understood exactly what we expected from her for the next two weeks, we hoped to see the judge. It was then a woman in a bright red Burka entered the small meeting room and explained that she was the judge and she would talk to us now, instead of going through the formal process of a courtroom:

“I hear Greg, you wish us to transfer this girl into your custody,” questioned the judge.

“Yes I do your honour,” I replied.

The judge then turned towards Aatifa and asked if her father’s house still had the cells, which Aatifa said yes:

“Aatifa, I knew your father,” explained the judge. “He was a good man and looked after many charities here in Kumar City. As a result, I got to know him and your mother well and I approved of his strict practices in your upbringing.”

The judge then looked at me:

“Greg, do you approve of our custom surrounding the Burka,” asked the female Judge?

“Actually, I do your honour,” I replied. “If we had the same custom in the UK, I doubt we would have as many problems in our society.”

“That is excellent Greg,” the judge continued. “Aalia has now been caught outdoors without a Burka three times in the last two years so I think she needs to learn a hard lesion.”

“I agree your honour,” I started to beg. “I’ve come all this way and would like to see around your beautiful country but I’d also like to do this with Aalia who I have became very fond of over the past months. I promise your honour, I will personally take full responsibility for this girl and will ensure she doesn’t leave the house without a Burka.”

The judge stood in front of me and clearly had something to think about:

“Okay Greg, I have an idea,” the judge started to set-out the rules for Aalia’s release. “I will grant Aalia her release for the next two weeks. She will have to wear a GPS collar at all times and you must lock her in one of her father’s cells at night. I’m going to ask this facility to provide you with a pair of standard prison issue handcuffs and when you both go outside, you must ensure Aalia wears a Burka and her hands are locked behind her back to ensure she cannot remove the Burka herself. At any time, the Kumar police may stop you in the street or come to your house at night. If Aalia is not properly dressed or restrained, she will be back in here for six months; do you understand?”

“Yes your honour,” I thanked the judge. “I assume you will lasso grant Aalia freedom from the mask of shame so that I communicate with her and she can tell me all about your wonderful country?”

“I will also grant Aalia freedom from the mask of shame,” replied the judge. “This means that if she doesn’t comply with the rules set-out for her release, she will also spend six months in the mask of shame, while back in prison for six months!”

I thanked the judge for her kindness and she left, asking us to wait while an official would be back to sort out the paperwork for Aalia’s release. Aatifa, Aalia and I sat for the next thirty minutes until a female prison official arrived with a strange U-shaped tool. Under her instructions, Aalia stood up and allowed the female officer to remove her Burka so I now saw Aalia for the first time in a dirty old orange prison uniform dress with her hands cuffed behind her back with a long chain running down to a pair of leg-irons. It also gave me an opportunity to see the mask of shame for the first time. It was a featureless black plastic helmet that covered her entire head. As the female official placed the U-shaped device over Aalia’s helmet, she explained to us that this would heat the seal around the helmet and within ten minutes the front and rear half would separate, freeing Aalia for the first time in a month. Sure enough the helmet did break apart and as the two halves came apart, I saw the massive penis gag that had filled Aalia’s mouth for the last month. Also under the mask of shame, Aalia wore a thin balaclava to protect her head from the plastic helmet:

“Okay, Aalia, follow me and we can get you cleaned up,” explained the female prison officer. “Aatifa, can I please have the Burka and gloves you’ve brought?”

Aalia was then led off (still in chains) for a shower and to get changed. This gave me a chance to look closer at the mask of shame:

“Aatifa how does a girl eat wearing this,” I asked?

“She is forced to eat a cocktail of liquidised food,” replied Aatifa. “I’ve no idea what it must have been like for Aalia over the past month but I’m sure her time in this prison and her time in the mask would have been a living hell!”

I then held the front piece of the mask up to my face but refused to pop the gag into my mouth because the smell wasn’t pleasant.

“It stinks Aatifa,” I complained!

Aatifa just laughed:

“What do you expect Greg,” Aatifa continued to laugh. “Aalia has been wearing that thing for a month now non-stop so it is bound to be a little smelly by now!”

“I guess so,” I replied, placing the mask of shame back on the small table.

It was then a black Burka clad Aalia returned with the female prison official, holding a pair of hinged handcuffs:

“Greg these are for you,” explained the female guard, who handed me the handcuffs and a single key. “It’s time to place Aalia in handcuffs!”

I then lifted Aalia’s Burka from behind, revealing a pair of legs in tights or stockings and a mini skirt. Without any problems, Aalia placed her hands behind her back and I locked the hinged cuffs around each wrist, ensuring the keyhole was pointing up:

“I see you’ve done that before Greg,” praised the female guard.

“I take my responsibilities very seriously,” I replied, pulling Aalia’s Burka back down.

We then left the prison and I helped Aalia into the back of the car with Aatifa. I got into the front passenger seat and instructed the driver to take us back to Aalia’s house. Because Aatifa’s driver was is the car, we elected to say nothing on the 30 minute journey so I watched outside the window in silence, mesmerised by the array of tents walking around the streets of Kumar City.

Once back at Aalia’s house, Aatifa hugged her sister and thanked me for my help, before getting back into the car. As we entered Aalia’s house, she finally broke her silence:

“Greg, thank you, thank you, thank you;” Aalia opened the conversation, coming over and resting her head on my chest.

“You’re so welcome Aalia,” I replied. “Come here and we’ll get rid of that Burka, even though I have to admit, that I’m horny as hell, knowing you’re restrained underneath.”

Aalia just laughed as I pulled the heavy material from her head and then her body:

“Hello there,” I laughed as Aalia’s head came clear of the Burka.

I still couldn’t see her face because Aalia’s head was covered in silk, with only her eyes showing.

“I like the look Aalia,” I contoured laugh!

“Shut up and get me out of these handcuffs Greg,” screamed Aalia!

“No way Aalia,” I replied. “Not until I can trust you! Remember the promise I made to the judge so let’s just remove those scarves so that I can see your beautiful face.”

I peeled the first blue silk scarf from Aalia’s head. Once this first layer was gone, I worked on the triangle square of blue that covered her face and finally the head scarf. Soon her long dark hair fell well below her shoulders, revealing the silver steel collar that encircled her slender neck:

“You look even better in real life Aalia,” I praised this beautiful girl of Indian decent. “I love the collar, it really suits you!”

Aalia then approached and pushed her face towards mine and we kissed for the first time:

“Greg, I’ve liked you from the first time I met you face-to-face on Skype,” explained Aalia. “I can’t believe you’ve come all this way to help me out so I want to thank you.”

I looked straight at Aalia and took hold of her:

“You’re a very pretty girl Aalia,” I continued.  “I know you’re into bondage so for the next two weeks, I’m going to bring your fantasy to life but I’m afraid there will also be a serious side to it.”

Aalia just smiled back at me:

“Greg, I’d like to take a proper shower and give my hair a really good wash,” requested Aalia? “I’d also like to change out of these cloths.”

I agreed and I followed Aalia upstairs and into her master bedroom:

“Can I have the use of my hands,” begged Aalia?

I checked out her bedroom door and there was a key in the keyhole on the inside of the door. I took the key and checked it fitted the keyhole on the outside of the door:

“I think I can contain you inside this room Aalia,” I laughed. “Remember, you will spend each night and maybe some extra time in the cells, which I have to say, really took my interest when I found them last night.”

“I thought you’d like them Greg,” replied Aalia as I unlocked and removed the hinged handcuffs.

I explained to Aalia that I’d head downstairs to make some lunch while she showered and got changed. I also told her that I’d be back in thirty minutes, so until then her master bedroom would be her prison cell!

I wasn’t prepared for the site that presented itself in front of me, when I unlocked and opened Aalia’s bedroom door. Standing only feet in front of me was Aalia, if a very short strappy dress and black stockings:

“Do you like,” she asked?

“Of course I like,” I replied. “Is this sort of dress not the reason you found yourself in jail?”

Aalia approached and stretched to kiss me:

“Greg you have a lot to learn about Kumar,” explained Aalia. “When we visit the malls, you will see loads of lingerie stores so what you probably don’t realise is that below those boring old black, blue and sometimes red Burka’s, most Kumarian ladies are dressed in the most exquisite lingerie!”

I just stared back at Aalia and kissed her, holding her wonderful body, close to mine:

“The collar really goes with your outfit,” I laughed!

“Yeah, I was thinking about that Greg,” replied Aalia. “Maybe one of my long black silk scarves would finish my outfit off today?”

I stood and watched as Aalia rummaged through one of her drawers until she found what she was looking for. She folded out an extremely long black silk scarf and folded it three times into a very thin strip and then proceeded to wrap it once round her slender neck and tie a knot at the back of her head, under her long dark hair:

“Does that look better Greg,” asked Aalia?

“I’m not sure Aalia,” I laughed. “It is a difficult chose between your silver collar and the black scarf!”

Aalia then play punched me and we headed downstairs for some lunch.

“So what do you want to do today Greg,” asked Aalia as we finished our lunch?

“I’m not sure Aalia,” I responded. “How about we head into Kumar City and you can show me around?”

“That means I’ll have to wear a Burka and you have to handcuff me,” replied Aalia.

“Well Aalia do you want to stay in this house for the next two weeks or do you want to spend some time outside in the fresh air with me, Burka and all,” I sarcastically responded?

“Put it like that what option do I have,” Aalia responded?

“Well I can put in one of the cells and I can go out alone,” I laughed in a semi serious tone.

“I thought so,” replied Aalia. “I don’t really have a choice!”

As I cleared away the lunch dishes, Aalia headed off to find her favourite Burka. When she returned, she was holding a pile of electric blue satin material in her hands:

“I hate wearing these Greg,” grunted Aalia as she pulled the long satin gloves over her hands and half way up her arms.

“I don’t know Aalia,” I replied. “I quite like it.”

“You would say that you kinky bastard,” complained Aalia as she pulled the heavy blue satin Burka over her head and fixed it about her tented body.

“Is that you ready to go,” I asked, holding the hinged handcuffs in my right hand?

“I suppose so Greg, but do you have to use those,” Aalia continued to complain?

“It is your choice Aalia,” I explained. “You can go out without them but if we’re stopped in the street and the police check your bail conditions and they find you unrestrained; then you’re straight back to jail and a long time in the mask of shame.”

Aalia continued to moan but knew I was right so she allowed me to cuff her hands behind her back. She then told me that she had a car so if I didn’t mind driving then she would direct me to an underground car park in the city centre. During the short drive into town, Aalia told me that females were not permitted to drive in Kumar but not because they are girls but simply because it was too dangerous to while wearing a Burka with mesh face covering. We continued to laugh as I headed underground and into the car park of the main shopping mall in Kumar. We spent the next two hours dodging in and out of shops to stay out of the afternoon sun but soon we sat down for a coffee.

“How am I going to drink that, with my hands cuffed,” complained Aalia?

“Very simple my dear,” I replied popping a straw into the cup and asking Aalia to sit back so that I could lift her Burka enough to get the cup under the mass of satin.

“You’re enjoying this,” Laughed Aalia.

“I am,” I replied.

It was then two female police officers walked up to us:

“Sir, we have just scanned the area and we believe your partner is wearing a digital collar from the state,” the smaller of the two female police officer opened the conversation.”

“That is correct officer,” I replied.

The other, large police officer took out her PDA and did some checking:

“Yes, the bail conditions of this female states that she must be handcuffed at all times in public during until the end of her sentence in just under two weeks time,” the second (larger) officer explained.

“That is also correct officer,” I replied. “My partner as you so nicely put it; has her hands locked behind her back!”

The smaller of the two officers then padded Aalia down and soon found then handcuffs that kept her hands pinned behind her back.

“Thank you Sir,” replied the smaller officer. “We will report your compliance to the central computer and we appreciate your support. Enjoy your coffee.”

Aalia and I then laughed out loud as I waved my finger to her, reminding my partner of the consequences of that encounter with the Kumarian cops if she hadn’t been handcuffed.

Aalia and I continued our shopping trip and walk around the main square of the city. I couldn’t believe the number of blue, black and red tents making their way slowly around the busy city centre. We continued to make jokes about it as we headed back to Aalia’s house in her sporty BMW saloon. Once back inside Aalia’s home, I lifted the heavy Burka off her head but decided to leave her handcuffed!

“Come on Greg, takes these off,” begged Aalia?

“No Aalia, I like the way they make your chest push out but I also loving having you as my little state sponsored prisoner!”

Aalia came up close and placed her lips on mine:

“You’re a kinky bastard Greg, but I really love what you are doing to me,” teased Aalia. “Now go on, try the Burka on, you know you want to!”

Aalia must have been reading my mind because I was desperate to try on her bright blue Burka but I had planned to do that later, when she was safely locked up in the cells for the night. As I pulled the heavy material over my head, my cock began to try to spring from my pants as I was about to experience a lifelong ambition to try on a Burka:

“I don’t know why you hate these so much,” I opened the conversation again. “I really like this Aalia!”

“Okay then Greg, spend the rest of the day in it and see how you feel then,” replied Aalia.

We had another laugh about what was going on but in the end we decided to head into the living room and watch some late afternoon TV before thinking about dinner. I remained horny the entire afternoon, sitting beside the most wonderful girl I’d ever met, a girl who was dressed in her sexy red dress but wearing bright blue gloves because her hands had remained in cuffs since we lived for the city earlier this afternoon. As the sun set, Aalia offered to make dinner if I would remain tented so with some acceptance, I unlocked her wrists and stayed in the Burka until dinner was called. Even though Aalia wanted me to remain in the Burka during dinner, I refused, stating that I’d only mess it up. As we finished out meal, the sun had set for the day and Aalia knew time was fast approaching to get into the cell. She headed for her bedroom to collect a few things for the night and I followed her outside to the outhouse at the back of the swimming pool:

“It is years since I spent a night in one of these cell’s” explained Aalia.

“Well get used to it Aalia, because this is where you’ll be sleeping until the end of your sentence,” I brought her back to reality.

I followed Aalia into the first open cell and she placed the items on the small table:

“What time will you come for me in the morning,” she asked as I slid closed the inner bars until they clunked shut?

“I’m not sure,” I replied placing my hands through the bars to touch Aalia for the last time today. “I guess as soon as I wake up.”

We held each other through the cell bars once again until I decided to break off the moment and headed out of the cell, closing and automatically locking the outer cell door. I headed back to the main house and got into bed myself. It was then around one-o’clock when I was rudely awakened by the sound of the outside buzzer:

“Who is it,” I asked as I lifted the phone in the kitchen?

“It’s the police sir,” came a female voice from the other end of the phone. “I’m here to check that you are adhering to the bail conditions set by the court!”

“Let yourself in and I’ll be down in a second,” I replied, pulling on a dressing gown and heading downstairs to meet the female police officer in her dark blue uniform and veiled face.

I led her over to the outhouse and inside. As I unlocked the outer cell door, I explained that Aalia was safely tucked up in her cell bunk.

“I’m sorry to wake you love but the police are here to check that you’re actually in your cell,” I tried not to disturb Aalia too much.

The police officer thanked me and we closed and locked the outer door before I showed her out of the house. I then went back to bed and fell back to sleep.

 

Day Two:

It was now Tuesday and the flight to Kumar had certainly taken it out of me. Even though I’d gone to bed with a plan to rise early and check out some more of Aalia’s fantastic home, I had overslept and woke at sometime after 10AM. I panicked but as I jumped out of bed, I thought to myself, ‘so what, Aalia isn’t going anywhere!’ This change in mood, meant that I gave myself the time to have a long hot shower, a decent shave and even gave myself the time to find something to wear. I would have loved to dress up as Gena this morning but I’d brought none of her cloths with me so after my ablutions, I simply climbed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and headed outside to the stable block to release my captive:

“I’m so sorry Aalia, I slept in,” I apologised as I unlocked and opened the outer cell door!

“I’m just glad to see you Greg,” whispered Aalia, who had been lying on her cell bunk reading a book. “Come in here and give me a kiss?”

I used my keys to unlock and slide open the inner bars and soon I was sitting beside this beautiful girl, with my tongue stuck down her throat, wrestling for breath.

“That was nice,” commented Aalia as she came up for air the first time.

The petting continued and Aalia began pulling my T-shirt from my body and tugging at my shorts and boxers:

“Hold on Aalia, I’ll help you,” I stopped her frustration and pulled off my shorts and boxers, followed by her silk pants.

The inevitable followed and we made love in the cell for the next thirty minutes. This was our first of many sessions (I hoped) and Aalia seemed genuinely pleased with the outcome!

“I enjoyed that,” praised Aalia, who was now on her feet, pulling on her pants and picking up the cloths she wore yesterday. “Right, I’m off for a well earned shower!”

As Aalia exited the cell, she pulled the keys from the lock in the bars and slid them closed until the CLUNK told me that I was now locked inside:

“What are you doing Aalia,” I yelled!

“Just getting you back for keeping me locked up for so long this morning,” she laughed, slamming the outer closed on her way.

I had no choice but to sit there and await Aalia’s return, which wasn’t for quite some time. The cell was small and there was little do but sit on the bunk and wait for Aalia to come back for me. I lay there naked for some time and as my cock started to rise from his earlier engagement, I felt the urge to take him in my own hands and bring myself to another orgasm. As I explained earlier, being locked in a cell by a beautiful girl was another fantasy of mine and therefore another fantasy that had come true for me since coming on this holiday to Kumar. While I was enjoying my first jail cell experience, I did hope that Aalia would return and not attempt an escape outside, leaving me to rot behind bars in her stable block. It was therefore a relief when I heard her footsteps outside and the outer door being unlocked and opened.

“Ah, you’re still here Greg,” laughed Aalia who was now dressed in a one piece floral print swimsuit with a bright blue sarong tied around her waist!”

“Where else did you expect me to be Aalia,” I replied as she unlocked and slid open the inner bars?

“Come on, I’ve prepared breakfast, which we can have beside the pool,” explained Aalia. “If you don’t mind Greg, I’d like to spend today by the poolside and relax because I’m stil tired after a month in prison wearing that fucking terrible mask!”

“That’s perfect Aalia,” I replied. “I didn’t just come to Kumar to site see. I also came here to get to know you better!”

Aalia took hold of me and we kissed as I exited the cell. We then headed out of the stable block, hand-in-hand.

Aalia had spent some time preparing breakfast and setting up the table, next to the pool so we enjoyed our morning chatting over fruit, toast and coffee. It was a lovely day doing very little except sitting by the pool and chatting to this wonderful girl, who I was starting to fall for:

“So Greg, did you bring any of Gena’s things,” asked Aalia after a long chat about my adventures into cross dressing and bondage?

“No I didn’t Aalia,” I replied. “I didn’t want to get stopped by Kumarian customs officers, wanting to know why I’d a suitcase full of girls cloths while travelling alone!”

Aalia just laughed:

“That’s okay Greg,” Aalia continued. “I’ve got lots of cloths that I bought for my last boyfriend in a trunk upstairs and I think most should fit you.”

“Remember Aalia,” I got serious for a minute. “You are my prisoner for the next week and-a-half so I might not allow you to dress me up until you’re a free woman.”

Aalia just turned around and starred at me:

“Greg, don’t be so silly,” Aalia sarcastically explained. “I have found a man that is willing to dress for me so don’t be so bloody self conscious? I want to meet Gena today so come with me!”

Aalia then stood up and led me into her house and upstairs to one of the other spare rooms:

“I’m sure the trunk is in here,” she said.

A massive trunk then appeared out of one of the cupboards and as Aalia opened the massive suitcase, she demanded that I strip:

“Okay, put this one,” she demanded, handing me a small package.

As I ripped open the cellophane, I found a black body stocking. I then sat on the bed and started pulling the wonderful soft material over my legs and up my body. The black Lycra had two straps, which reached my shoulders, therefore holding up the figure hugging material.

“Um, you look great already,” teased Aalia!

“Yeah, it feels really nice,” I commented.

“Great, now stand up and allow me to corset you,” Aalia demanded next.

It was then I came face-to-face with a fearsome black leather boned corset. Aalia asked me to hold it, while she started the long and laborious job of tightening the laces:

“That’s enough,” I screamed within five minutes as Aalia’s lacing started to cut me in two!

“Don’t be such a girl Greg,” laughed Aalia as she continued lacing me into the corset! “Anyway, I think that will do.”

I could feel Aalia fiddling and then pulling up a rear zip. She then rummaged inside the trunk again and pulled out a plastic container:

“That will do,” remarked Aalia as she picked out a tiny padlock and locked it onto the top of the zipper. “There now Greg, your corset isn’t coming off without a key!”

“That’s just not cricket,” I laughed, realising that Aalia now had the upper hand.

Aalia then picked out a small pump and connect it to the cups of my corset and started inflating two large breasts, until she was happy with my new chest:

“Very nice,” she teased squeezing both before hunting for a dress for me to wear.

Aalia continued to rummage until she found what she was looking for:

“This will work,” she laughed, pulling out a pink leather mini dress.

It was as Aalia started to get me into this dress, that I realised I was getting into something that I wasn’t getting out of quickly. This particular pink leather number had a built in arm binder and soon my arms were pulled behind my back and slid into the sheath that was zipped closed to my neck, imprisoning my poor arms until Aalia was ready to release me.

“You look fantastic Greg,” teased Aalia as she rubbed her hands all over my pink leather skin and Lycra legs. “You just need a pair of shoes and something to cover your male face!”

Aalia then rummaged some more until she found a pair of high heeled shoes with a locking strap. I sat on the bed while she fitted the shoes to my feet and using similar tiny padlocks to the one that locked my corset in place, I was stuck in the shoes as well. Next Aalia asked me to wait while she fetched some scarves to veil me. While she was gone, I practiced walking in the high heels and as she returned, she just laughed at me:

“Gena, you look gorgeous!”

Again I sat on the bed as Aalia used three black satin scarves to veil my entire head. As before; one was used to cover the top of my head. A second square scarf was folded into a triangle and pulled over my face, covering my nose, mouth and chin. Aalia tied a single knot behind my head and pulled both ends around and tied a double knot, pulling the thick black triangle of satin into my face. Yes, it was a very pleasant experience! Finally Aalia used a third black satin triangle to cover my head, finishing off my veil for the day:

“That’s you except for a Burka,” laughed Aalia!

“You are not putting a Burka on me too,” I complained!

“Greg, I’m not sure you are in a position to complain,” laughed Aalia!

She was right and soon I was covered head to toe in a very heavy black satin Burka, with only a mesh screen to provide limited (very limited) visibility.

“Right Greg, I want to have a lie down on my own bed for a few hours and then take a long hot soak in a bather,” Aalia explained. “I think you should spend this time in my cell.”

“No please Aalia, I’m supposed to be looking after you,” I begged but Aalia was a persistent person who persuaded me downstairs, across the yard, past the pool and into the same cell she had spent last night in.

“Enjoy yourself,” were Aalia’s last words as the inner bars slid closed and the outer door slammed shut.

Here I was, locked in her cell again, this time dressed as Gena in a tight corset, pink leather bondage dress and a heavy black Burka. I couldn’t move very far so I had little option but to sit on the bed and wait for Aalia to return, which didn’t happen until well after dark. When Aalia did finally return, Aalia was wearing her favourite blue Burka and announcing that we were going out:

“No, no, no Aalia, we can’t go out like this,” I yelled! “If we are to go out, you must be handcuffed, not me restrained in this dress!”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” replied Aalia, pulling me from the cell!

Aalia’s driver was waiting for us in her BMW and soon after (20 minutes) we were walking outside in the centre of Kumar City. It was tough for me in the killer heels but I was getting used to stumbling around but in a minor panick, every time I saw police officers, who at any time could stop and check Aalia for the tell tale sign of handcuffs. I was also very self conscious that I was outside dressed as Gena for the first time but under the Burka I was getting away with it! This was another fantasy of mine and one that Aalia knew so she kept reminding me that she was only giving me what I’d always wanted!

At about eight o’clock we both sat down in a cafe to grab a drink before heading back to Aalia’s place for a meal. She had promised to pick up a carry-out on the way home so I was looking forward to escaping the constant worry of the city and back to the safety of Aalia’s walled home:

“How can I drink this Aalia,” I quizzed this mad girl. “My hands are bound and my face is covered with scarves under the Burka!”

“Oh, I forgot about the scarves,” replied Aalia so I followed her into the toilets so that she could remove the Burka and then the scarves before we headed back outside to the table and our drinks, which had to be fed to me, as I’d done for Aalia yesterday.

It was then my worst nightmare came true: Two female police officers approached, wearing the same boring blue trouser suit uniforms and the standard issue veil, showing only two mesh covered eyes:

“Good evening ladies, our records show that one of you is under a court order to be restrained while outdoors in public!”

Aalia and I both froze, we had been rumbled and how would we ever get out of this one?

 

Day Two ends and the holiday continues:

So how were Aalia and I to get out of this one? If she was caught with no restraint, she’d surely go back to prison and forced into the gagged mask of shame for a long time to come. What would happen to me? I was currently in no position to do anything while wearing the pink leather bondage dress under my black all encompassing Burka!

Aalia certainly had experience of flaunting the law and today would be no different:
“Good evening officers, I’m Aatifa, Aalia’s sister,” Aalia started to squirm her way out of another mess. “I’m afraid Aalia can’t speak right now because I’ve added a gag to her restraint tonight and she her arms are safely out of reach in a leather arm binder!”

One of the police officers demanded that I stand up and she started to frisk me, in search for my bondage, which was obvious under my Burka.

“Very good madam,” explained the first officer. “It says in our system that the court provided you with handcuffs?”

“Yes they did,” replied Aalia (Aatifa). “The court order was to ensure Aalia was kept restrained while out in public so that she was unable to remove her Burka, appropriate attire for our great nation don’t you think?”

The police officer started to pat me down with a little more force this time:

“I see what you mean Madam,” the police officer laughed. “She is quite secure isn’t she?”

“Yes officer,” Aalia continued to explain. “There is no way this girl is getting free without outside help!”

The police officers agreed that everything was in order and they thanked us for complying with the court order.

“That was a close call Aalia,” I sarcastically put my point of view across!

“Yeah but it was fun,” she replied.

“What would you have done if we’d been caught,” I asked?

Aalia just laughed and explained that under the Burka, the police had no idea who I was and therefore there was little to no chance of us being caught:

“Aalia, I need to take a piss,” I asked?

We then finished up our drinks and Aalia led me back to the toilets at the back of the cafe and she helped me out of the Burka. She then pulled down the Velcro crotch on my body stocking and yanked my cock out:

“There you go Greg, sit down and do your business; I’ll be back to collect you in a minute,” explained Aalia as she exited the tiny cubical to relieve herself.

By the time Aalia came back for me, I’d done my business and was ready for the trip home or at least back to the safety of Aalia’s home. She therefore pushed my dick behind the thick Lycra of the body stocking and refitted the Velcro crotch.

“Time to fix your veil,” laughed Aalia who had pulled the silk from my face earlier so that I could drink.

I tried to tell Aalia that she didn’t need to worry about my veil but she ignored me, pulling off the head scarf, followed by the scarf used to veil my face. I didn’t expect what Aalia did next:

“What are you doing,” I asked in a panic as Aalia let the massive silk scarf fall open and then pulled the entire square of silk over my head, covering my entire face and effectively blindfolding me.

“Just adding to your experience Greg,” laughed Aalia as she pulled the two ends behind my neck, tying them off and providing me with a silk hood. “Come on open wide!”

With that, I felt Aalia forcing the other scarf into my mouth and therefore providing me with an extremely effective gag, which was now being tied very tightly behind my head.

“Right time to go home,” teased Aalia, pulling the heavy Burka back over my entire body.

I was then led out of the cafe, gagged and blindfolded behind the Burka. I’d no idea where I was and I couldn’t see where she was taking me so as Aalia kept her hand on my pinned arms, Aalia sort of pushed me in the general direction she wanted me to go. It was a frightening experience and with no arms, speech or sight, I was completely under Aalia’s control!

“Ummm, Mumph,” I complained!

“Stop complaining Gena,” Aalia sarcastically demanded. “There is nothing you can do so enjoy the experience.”

I really had no choice but to allow Aalia to push me in the direction she wanted me to go and soon I heard a car door opening and then Aalia helped me into the back seat:

“Watch your head Gena,” whispered Aalia as she helped me into the car.

I couldn’t respond so I accepted my position and allowed Aalia to direct me into the car. The trip home was in complete silence as with all car trips where Aalia’s driver was present. Not that I could add anything to a conversation but again I sat and waited to be helped out of the car and hopefully freedom. It was therefore very frustrating when Aalia helped me out of the car and led me though the poolside yard and into one of her cells:

“I’ll release you when it’s time for dinner,” remarked Aalia as she slid closed the inner bars, followed by the outer cell door.

I mumphed in frustration but Aalia ignored me, leaving me in darkness and with no way to communicate so I sat on the cell bunk and waited for Aalia to return for me and a nice meal. It was therefore a relief when I finally heard the cell door opening, followed by the inner bars and Aalia (I hoped) lifting off my Burka and then the scarves that gagged and blinded me:

“Thank you Aalia,” I opened the conversation as the silk gag came out, followed by the scarf that hooded my entire head.

“You’re welcome,” replied Aalia who was now standing in front of me wearing a black leather corset and miniskirt set, with black stockings clearly visible.

“That outfit will definetely get you arrested,” I laughed as soon as I regained my sight and saw what Aalia was wearing.

“What’s wrong with it?” replied Aalia.

“Nothing is wrong with it Aalia,” I dug myself out of the hole. “I love it but you couldn’t go out in Kumar City wearing it!”

“Yes I could,” replied Aalia in a very sarcastic tone this time. “I could wear this under a Burka!”

“That’s true,” I replied now could I please have the use of my arms Aalia?”

Aalia just stood and looked straight at me, deep in thought:

“Okay but you come back to the house and put on another dress Greg,” Aalia set out the rules for the rest of the evening. “First of all, I’ll take you back to the house and we can find you something else to wear.”

I agreed so Aalia led me along the poolside and back to the spare room in her massive house, before rummaging through her collection of plus sized female clothes, which were now hanging in the wardrobe:

“I think this will work,” explained Aalia as she pulled out a bright blue satin sissy dress, with a puffed out skirt.

I said nothing as she released me from hours of bondage in the pink leather dress and with my arms still completely useless after hours of being pinned behind my back, Aalia helped me into the blue satin dress, pulling up the rear zip. With some fiddling, Aalia pulled up the zip to the tight flared neck of the sissy dress:

“I should really lock this dress on you but I don’t think you’ll be removing it, will you?” asked Aalia.

“No,” I replied. “While I do probably look a little ridiculous, I will wear it for you my dear!”

Aalia then kissed me and led me back downstairs and to the kitchen table where she had prepared a feast for us both.

“So do you like your outfit Greg?” asked Aalia as we started into the main course.

“I’m not sure it’s really me,” I sarcastically replied. “Did your ex wear it for you?”

Aalia just laughed!

“My ex didn’t wear that particular dress and in fact he ran a mile when I tried to persuade him into it,” replied Aalia. “I only managed to get him into a French Maids outfit once with a pair of white stockings but he really wasn’t into it and soon after we split up.”

“Well his loss is my gain,” I laughed in response, which actually touched Aalia so much she stood up, came round and sat on my satin covered knee and kissed me very patiently.

We continued on with our dinner, followed by coffee and then Aalia suggested we head upstairs to her bedroom:

“Aalia, you will have to go to your cell at sometime,” I brought our evening of passion back to reality.

“Okay, then Greg, let’s go to my cell,” Aalia compromised.

Without needing too much encouragement I led Aalia back to her cell and we flopped down onto her bunk. It was then I found out that Aalia wasn’t wearing any pants under her leather miniskirt so I slipped my fingers into her pussy, which got the response I was looking for as Aalia started to coo. I continued to kiss her and play with her cunt until she came in a massive explosion.

“Thank you Greg, that was wonderful,” praised Aalia as she picked up the scarf that gagged me earlier. “Turn around and give me your hands Greg?”

I knew exactly what Aalia wanted as she folded the scarf into as thin band and used it to bind my hands behind my back:

“That’s better Greg, lie down,” requested Aalia who was clearly still horny.

As I got onto my back on Aalia’s cell bunk, she picked up the other silk scarf, the one that covered my entire head earlier and folded it into a triangle before tying it over her face, veiling her from her nose to chin. Aalia then flopped on top of me and started kissing me through the silk veil, which was strange but a wonderful experience. Next Aalia pulled up my skirt and tugged at the Velcro hatch that covered my crotch and pulled out my cock, which was by now, rock hard! Aalia then sat on it, sliding my cock inside her warm and wet pussy, pumping me until I exploded:

“Fuck me, that was fantastic Aalia,” I praised her. “I wish you and I could spend tonight in the same bed!”

“We will as soon as my sentence is complete,” replied Aalia. “Sadly until then, you are required to lock me in here for the night.”

“I know it is a shame Aalia but I hope you can unlock my corset before I lock you up for the night,” I requested.

Aalia smiled and without untying my hands or removing her scarf veil, she took the key from her necklace and unlocked the corset:

“You’re now free to remove the corset,” teased Aalia.

“Not until you untie my hands,” I laughed.

“I suppose so,” replied Aalia who reluctantly started to pick at the knot in the scarf binding my wrists.

Soon I was free of the scarf that was binding my wrists:

“That feels good,” I teased. “Is there anything I can get you sweetheart before I lock you in here for the night?”

“Who are you calling sweetheart?” laughed Aalia.

“You know,” I sarcastically responded. “You know!”

I went over and kissed Aalia through her silk covered face once again:

“I could get used to this,” I smiled.

I kissed her again, pushing my tongue as hard as I could against the layer of silk that was covering Aalia’s mouth.

“Maybe I’ll stay in Kumar,” I started to tease this girl once again. “I could persuade you to stay veiled forever!”

“You’d have to force me,” replied Aalia.

“And I’d enjoy that challenge even more,” I came straight back at her!

“Well if there is nothing else Aalia, I’ll bid you goodnight and leave you to enjoy your surroundings for another night,” I proceeded to bring this evening to a close.

Aalia shock her head, pulling the scarf from her face:

“Goodnight my sweet friend,” she purred as I slid closed the inner bared gate.

“Your sister is right Aalia,” I laughed. “You do need to be tamed and I’m just the guy to do it!”

With that, I slammed the outer door closed, leaving my gorgeous friend to her cell and another night behind bars. On my way out of the stable block, I took the time to check out Aalia’s cupboard of toys. I particularly liked the bondage helmets and even tried one on, pulling the leather over my head, after pushing the penis gag into my mouth. The rear zip soon closed around my head, leaving me in darkness and wondering what it would be like to have no option but to wear the leather bondage helmet. I could easily breathe through the hole in the penis gag and through the two tiny holes at my nostrils but this mask had no eye holes so I was in total darkness. I soon removed the hood and checked out a metal head sphere. This awesome helmet opened at the top on hinges and locked down around the wearers head. I slipped the heavy steel contraption over my head and brought the two ends together, being careful not to engage the lock on the collar. It was very claustrophobic in this helmet but again I wondered what it would like if forced to wear it so I promised to introduce these helmets to our fun later on. After placing the bondage toys back in the cupboard, I headed back to the spare room to remove my female attire and prepare for a night’s sleep, hoping the Kumar Police wouldn’t disturb me tonight, which they didn’t.

I woke up the next morning at nine o’clock, like I did on the next consecutive mornings until Aalia’s release. I showered, got dressed and then headed over to the stable block to release Aalia for the day ahead. We continued to play with bondage and cross dressing for the next week and a half and started to really get to know each other. As Aalia’s release from house arrest got closer, she stopped trying to put herself in anymore risk of being caught dressed inappropriately or unrestrained while outside so I believed that I might have finally won this game and might even be managing to tame this wild and very beautiful girl.

 

Aalia free at last:

The morning finally arrived when I would be able to take Aalia to the courthouse to be freed from the collar. During the last two weeks, we had been checked by the police on several occasions, which we always passed without incident:

“Good morning my darling Aalia,” I bounced into her cell on that final morning.

Aalia lay on the bed and looked sad:

“Why are you sad this morning Aalia?” I asked. “You are to be freed today so no more nights in this horrible little cell!”

“Yes Greg, I might be free today but I lose you on Sunday morning,” replied Aalia.

I went over to the small cell bunk and sat down beside her:

“Would you like me to stay a little longer?” I asked.

“Would that be possible,” Aalia responded with a smile on her face.

“It might be,” I replied. “I have a lot of holidays owing to me at the moment so I could call my boss and see if she would permit me to extend this holiday.”

Aalia threw her arms around me and kissed me:

“I really hope your boss is a nice boss and allows you to stay here a little longer,” whispered Aalia.

We then had breakfast as usual Aalia showered and changed:

“What are you wearing,” I laughed as I first saw Aalia coming outside for breakfast in a long black dress?

“I’m taking no risks today Greg,” replied Aalia. “I plan to dress up this morning in the most boring Kumarian outfit I can find before putting on gloves and allowing you to handcuff me in advance of putting on a Burka and taking a trip downtown to the court house.”

“Good thinking Aalia,” I praised her forward thinking.

After breakfast I cleared up and waited until Aalia appeared wearing a pair of black gloves disappearing inside the long sleeves of her black dress that reached from her neck to just above her booted ankles. Turning around, I handcuffed Aalia for the last time, then placed the Burka over her head. This morning I drove her BMW to the car park next to the city centre court. As we walked into the courthouse, I handed the clerk the papers and she asked us to wait. A few mutes later we were instructed to follow another veiled official to an office, which actually was the private chambers of the judge that sentenced Aalia:

“Good morning you, two,” the judge stood up and bowed towards us.

“Good morning your honour,” we both replied.

“I see you are appropriately dressed Aalia,” the red Burka clad female sarcastically remarked.

“I am,” replied Aalia. “I will continue to dress according to the law of Kumar.”

“I am glad to hear that Aalia,” responded the judge. “I can see Greg you have been an excellent influence over Aalia according to the police reports.”

“All I have done your honour,” I replied. “Is to ensure Aalia meets the requirements you set out for her release. I have therefore had an excellent guide to show me around your beautiful country and I now look forward to spending a little more time here with Aalia free from the handcuffs and collar.”

The judged laughed and explained that she would be delighted to grant Aalia her freedom, as long as she realised that another attempt to fight the laws of Kumar would result in a long prison sentence, including the mask of shame. Aalia thanked the judge and as a female court official appeared to take Aalia away for the collar removal process, the judge and I sat and had coffee together:

“Greg,” asked the judge as she lifted a cup of fresh coffee under the veil of her Burka. “I’m a little surprised that a white man from England would be so accepting of our laws in Kumar?”

“It is not for me to decide your honour,” I replied. “I love to see scantily dressed females like most hot blooded men but there is something to be said about how orderly your society is here in Kumar.”

“So how long do you plan to stay in Kumar Greg,” asked the judge?

“At least another two weeks but I might ask my employer to post me out here if I can obtain the correct visa to work,” I replied.

The judge told me that she would be delighted to sponsor me at any time for a visa and after handing me one of her cards, Aalia was brought back into the chambers:

“So are you free of the collar,” I laughed?

“I am Greg but not the handcuffs,” replied Aalia.

I turned and looked at the judge:

“Oh yes your honour,” I explained. “I have the keys for those handcuffs here. Would you like me to unlock Aalia and leave you with the keys and the cuffs?”

The judge just laughed:

“You keep the handcuffs and the keys Greg,” replied the judge laughing behind her Burka. “You never know when you might need them!”

“Thank you your honour,” I bowed towards the red Burka. “Come on now Aalia, the judge is a very busy lady.”

“What about my hands Greg?” complained Aalia.

“If you’re not careful Aalia, I might gag you,” I responded sarcastically.

“I can see you are up to the task Greg,” the judge continued to laugh. “Take care and enjoy Kumar and don’t forget, I’ll sign any visa forms you might need in the future.”

With that, Aalia and I left the court house and started heading towards a cafe at the other side of the square:

“Did you have to suck up to the judge so much Greg?” Aalia continued to complain.

“You never know when she’ll come in useful,” I replied walking slightly faster than I should.

“Slow down Greg, I can’t move very fast in this dress,” Aalia continued to moan.

As we entered the cafe, I ordered a larger coffee and asked where the toilets were as my friend needed some help. Aalia thought that I was leading her towards the toilets so that I could remove her handcuffs but this wasn’t my plan as I wanted some payback for her trick on me just over a week ago:

“What are you doing,” demanded Aalia as I pushed her into a cubical and produced a small silk square?

“Getting my own back,” I replied pushing the small square of silk into Aalia’s mouth.

She wasn’t very happy and tried to spit the small scarf out of her mouth but I held my hand in place while I prepared the next scarf. I dropped out a long thin silk scarf and taking the two ends from behind Aalia’s head, I brought the two ends around and forced the thin scarf into her mouth before tying the two ends at the back of her head. Now that Aalia was effectively cleave gagged, I folded out a large triangle of silk and putting one fold in it, I placed the padding over her eyes, leaving the pointed end of the triangle falling well below her chin. Tying one knot at the back of her head, I brought the two ends around in front and tied another double knot around her chin, forcing the silk around Aalia’s face:

“Now don’t you look sweet,” I laughed as I placed the Burka back over my gagged and blindfolded girlfriend.

As I led Aalia out and into the cafe, no one knew that she was now blind and gagged below the black Burka. As the coffee was brought to my table by a waitress wearing a blue all encompassing Burka, she asked if my partner was having anything; I just laughed and said, ‘NO!’ I took my time to drink the large coffee and watch the myriad of Burka’s walking around the large square in the centre of Kumar City. I did get the odd grunt from Aalia, who was obviously not enjoying her trip into town this morning:

“Time to go home,” I announced as I helped Aalia onto her feet and I guided her out of the air conditioned cafe and into the mid day heat of Kumar.

Once back in the BMW, we were back in Aalia’s house within twenty minutes but keen not to let the girl off too lightly, I locked her in a cell until I’d prepared a light lunch. After all, she had done the same on me nearly two weeks ago and I wanted to remind her that I was the boss according the laws of Kumar. Just before lunch, I entered Aalia’s cell and pulled the Burka from her head. Next I removed the first scarf, offering light back to Aalia’s eyes. Once the cleave gag was removed and the small silk wadding had popped out of her mouth, she planted a kiss on my mouth:

“I should hate you Greg but I don’t,” Aalia blurted. “I’m actually falling in love with you I think!”

Now that took me by surprise and I just starred at Aalia for a minute:

“I think I might be falling for you also,” I responded, kissing Aalia again.

“Well if you loved me you might unlock my wrists!” teased Aalia.

“If I loved you Aalia,” I picked my words carefully, “I’d keep you handcuffed for your own safety!”

Aalia had no response but to kiss me again. As we broke this time, I took the key and unlocked her wrists, hugging her for the first time since the trip into Kumar and the courthouse:

“Aalia, if you clear up, I’m going to call my boss and see if I can extend my vacation,” I explained.

Once upstairs, I talked to my boss for about thirty minutes, telling her all about Kumar and how I’d met this wonderful girl:

“Do those girls not have to wear veils in Kumar,” Victoria (my boss) questioned on the other side of the phone.

“Yes they do Vicky,” I replied. “It is hard to get used to but when at home the same rules apply as back home.”

“Greg, I’ve no problem extending your vacation,” explained Vicky. “Actually we may have a project that needs delivered out there next month so you might be able to help us win the business and you can stay longer if you want.”

I of course agreed to do what I could, to help my employer win the business, which would keep me in Kumar so after agreeing a plan of action, starting in ten days time, I headed back to Aalia to give her the good news.

“Great news sweetie,” I bounced into the kitchen!

“So you holiday is extended then?” asked Aalia in another sad voice.

“What’s up this time?” I hugged, placing my arms around Aalia.

“I really am enjoying having you here Greg,” replied Aalia. “The problem is that you will still have to go home at some point.”

“Not necessarily Aalia,” I responded turning her around to face the beautiful girl I was falling in love with. “My company are bidding for some work here in Kumar and if we win the project, then I get to stay!”

Aalia practically jumped me, kissing me hard this time as I tried to hold on to her. I then explained that I’d have to do some work next week, which would mean me buying a suit so Aalia agreed to help me pick one and we would do some background work together on the contract, which was for the Kumarian government.

That afternoon we went to bed and made love for a few hours before Alia announced we would go out for dinner:

“How can we go out to eat Aalia?” I quizzed, “You will still have to wear a Burka!”

“We can go to one of the new restaurants with closed cubicals,” explained Aalia so after getting dressed, I called Aalia’s driver to take us back into town and a new Indian restaurant.

This was perfect because once we were seated in a rather large cubical, Aalia could remove her Burka and reveal a beautiful bright red mini dress and black stockings:

“Do you like it Greg?” she asked.

“I love it Aalia,” I replied.

We ordered our food using a computer terminal in the cubical and the food appeared in the hatch, along with drinks. By the time we came to pay, the same terminal was used and with far too much alcohol in our system, Aalia put on the Burka and we headed back to her place for some more love making and our first night in bed together.

 

Three Days in Aalia’s Custody:

I continued my holiday in Kumar with Aalia for a few more days, getting to know this beautiful mysterious eastern girl and her somewhat strange country and the cultures that went with a strict form of Purdah.

“Good morning sleepy head,” Aalia opened the conversation as I tried to gain some composure after a great nights’ sleep.

“Good morning yourself Aalia,” I responded, lifting my body from its’ current horizontal position.
“This is pleasant,” I thanked Aalia for bringing me breakfast in bed. “So what do I owe this surprise?”

“Can a girl not bring her man breakfast in bed without there being an ulterior motive?” replied Aalia with a smile from cheek to cheek.

“Okay Aalia, what is it?” I asked, trying to gain some composure because Aalia was acting strange this morning.

Aalia just stared back at me, smiling straight at me:

“I’d like to play a game this weekend Greg,” smiled Aalia.

“What game?” I replied.

Aalia then approached, once again straddling my naked body:

“I’d like to dress you up for the next three days and keep you as my prisoner!” explained Aalia

Now that got my attention!

“What prisoner?” I tried to get more out of Aalia.

“You know Greg,” replied Aalia. “Games we discussed when we chatted online; before you flew out to rescue me.”

“Ah, those games,” I replied, trying to sit up. “So you want to dress me up as your little eastern slave and keep me restrained and locked up for the next three days?”

“That about sums it up Greg,” replied Aalia.

I again tried to sit up but Aalia pushed me back onto the bed:

“Okay my little friend,” I responded as Aalia held me flat to her massive bed. “I will play your game but I require two things of you during the next three days.”

“Sure thing,” Aalia responded.

“I want you to promise me Aalia,” I started with my first demand. “If you go outside, do you promise to follow the law according to Kumar and dress appropriately?”

“Yes, I promise Greg, I will wear a fucking Burka when I go outside,” nodded Aalia!

“That’s fine Aalia but before I give over complete control to you; you must promise that by five o’clock on Sunday, I will be free and we will go out for a meal together as a proper couple,” I set out my second and final rule.

“I can agree to both your demands Greg,” replied Aalia, who eased herself down on top of me so we could kiss.

After we kissed for another few minutes, Aalia announced that I should go and take a shower while she picked out something for me to wear. I expected something kinky but I really wasn’t prepared for Aalia entering the ensuite as I exited the shower:

“What have you got there?” I asked Aalia.

“The first piece of clothing for you to wear today Greg,” replied Aalia.

I was referring to the soaking wet mass of wool that Aalia was holding in her arms:

“It is soaking wet Aalia,” I responded as I took a towel, about to dry myself off.

“Greg there is no point getting dried my dear,” explained Aalia. “This suit is wet for a reason and it will not be for long once I get you outside.”

“Outside?” I quizzed, taking hold of the soaking wet wool suit.

“Yes Greg, outside,” replied Aalia who by now was all business. “Please get on with it, I’ve not got all day!”

I then unzipped the heavy wool suit and started pulling to warm and very wet material over my legs and slipped my feet into the built in socks. Next my arms slipped into the gloves at the end of the arms. This was going to be a tight fit but I’d really no idea what I was letting myself in for:

“Aalia, this is horrible!” I complained, “It is so tight and I’m getting really cold under the AC.”

“You will not be cold for long,” Aalia laughed. “Come here and I’ll help get you into it.”

Aalia then helped pull the rest of the suit over my shoulders and slipped my head into the built in hood. The wool was very soft even if it was soaking wet and the hood had two eye holes and an open mouth so at least I was going to be able to see and breathe.  Finally Aalia pulled up the rear zip and once I’d bent down to enable her to get the heavy zipper pulled right up to the top of my head I was finally ready to go wherever Aalia wanted:

“Follow me!” instructed Aalia.

I’d little option but to follow Aalia through her home and outside into the back yard, towards the swimming pool. It was then I learnt my first fate: Hanging from a pole next to the poolside recliners was a set of manacles attached to each end of a three foot bar, which hung from a chain, attached to a pulley system. To be honest, I didn’t struggle or complain as Aalia attached the heavy iron manacles to each wrist and then hauled my arms skyward until I was stretched:

“Don’t go away anywhere Greg,” laughed Aalia as she then headed towards the stable (cell) block.

Who was Aalia kidding? I wasn’t going anywhere, attached to this contraption but soon she was back with a leather corset, which was also soaking wet. I didn’t think much of this until my stomach was squeezed tight into the leather corset and Aalia was satisfied that I could take no more:

“I bet you are wondering what I’ve done to you this morning Greg?” asked Aalia.

“The thought to ask you has crossed my mind several times Aalia,” I teased.

“Well Greg,” Aalia started to explain. “Your wool suit is made of the softest cashmere and it is black for a reason, just like the black leather corset I’ve just fitted to you. As both garments dry in the mid-day sun, they will both shrink, tightening around your already tight bondage. Being black, the heat will soon be unbearable but I know you will enjoy this little scenario!”

Aalia then stood in front of me and kissed me through the open mouth of the black cashmere mask:

“Enjoy yourself Greg,” laughed Aalia as she scampered off back to the house.

How was I going to enjoy this? Here I was, manacled to a three foot bar, held high above my head. I could feel the cashmere suit and leather corset already starting to tighten even more as the morning sun rose in the sky above me. By the time Aalia came out to lie beside the pool (maybe an hour later) I was in no mood to continue:

“Aalia, this is ridiculous,” I complained but this was a mistake as Aalia headed back to the stable block to get something else.

She soon returned with metal head sphere I’d wanted to try on several weeks ago. As she opened the sphere, Aalia pulled out a leather ball gag, which was very quickly shoved in my mouth and buckled closed behind my head. The metal sphere was next as Aalia fitted it onto my wool covered head and closed the contraction until I heard the lock engage:

“That will teach you not to complain Greg,” announced Aalia as she checked my bondage.

My misery was now much worse! Not only was my body boiling but my head was ready to explode inside the iron sphere, which was a radiator under the hot Kumarian sun. I’d no idea how long I was forced to endure this torture but I’m sure the cashmere suit was still soaking by the time Aalia let me down:

“It’s okay Greg,” comforted Aalia as my arms were let down and she unlocked the manacles.

Immediately I went for the helmet, trying to pull it from my head:

“Greg, there is no point trying,” explained Aalia as she led me from the place I was forced to stand for the last couple of hours. “The helmet is locked on and I have the key so please work with me.”

I could feel myself being led into some building because I soon felt the cold draft of air conditioning. I had the feeling it was the cell block but I didn’t care; anything was better than being forced to stand outside, in that heat, wearing this outfit!

“Sit down!” instructed Aalia.

I did as I was told as Aalia helped me down to the floor and onto a smooth surface that I couldn’t place.

“Give me your arms,” Aalia continued her demands as I felt myself being fitted into something.

Both arms seemed to slide into some sort of sleeve by my sides and then the sound of a heavy zip being pulled up until it reached my neck. It was then I felt Aalia unlocking and removing the heavy sphere helmet. It was just then I realised what was happening to me and the idea of been zipped into a heavy PVC body bag. I then started to panic and screamed into my gag but nothing much audible came out:

“Calm down Greg,” Aalia demanded. “Calm down or I’ve leave you gagged!”

There was no way I was going into this bag so Aalia simply pulled the rest of the bag over my head and pulled up the zip so I was back in darkness:

“Have it your way,” laughed Aalia. “See you later,” and with that the inner bars slammed shut, followed by the outer cell door.

It was then I heard the AC fan shut down so I knew I was about to cook again. The few hours were therefore long and extremely uncomfortable as my wool covered body, slowly boiled in the heavy PVC body bag. My breathing also laboured as I struggled to take in air through the limited supply the body bag would allow. Never the less, my jaw ached with the massive ball gag that kept me quiet and I awaited Aalia’s return.

I lay there, trying to imagine why Aalia had done this to me today. The wool suit had shrunk incredibly and now fitted my body like a second skin. The leather corset was also cutting my body in two and while I enjoyed the restrictiveness of Aalia’s corsets, today’s experience went beyond fun and into a new world of complete torture. Then there was the frying I took while manacled to the overhead bar outside and now I was being slowly boiled in the heavy PVC body bag! What was Aalia trying to achieve today with this torture, which I have to admit, I wasn’t enjoying!

I knew Aalia was close when the sound of the AC returned and the doors to my cell were opened.

“Hello lover boy,” hissed Aalia as she began to remove me from the PVC bag.

I mumphed into my gag but nothing really audible came out. Aalia then unbuckled my gag and started to pull down the rest of the body bag zip.

“Come on Aalia; get me out of this boil-in-the bag suit!” I screamed, trying to get Aalia to hurry up.

“Calm down Greg or I’ll zip you back in right now!” Aalia continued to dominate me. “It’s four o’clock and I thought we should go out for a meal tonight.”

“That sounds nice pet but can I please have a shower,” I pleaded.

Aalia just looked at me as my arms were finally free of the body bags internal sleeves.

“That would mean getting out of your wonderful wool suit,” replied Aalia.

“No kidding Sherlock!” I sarcastically responded.

“I don’t think so,” replied Aalia as she threw her arms around me and kissed me through the mouth hole of the wool suit’s built in hood. “I like you in the suit and you’ll be staying in it a little longer but first I need to get you restrained.

“Can I at least take a piss first?” I pleaded some more.

Aalia agreed and while she left the shower to fetch whatever was about to restrict my movements, I pulled down the crotch zip on the wool suit and took that well earned leak. Aalia took the precaution of sliding closed and locking the inner cell bars so I was stuck until she returned with a leather arm binder:

“This will suit my purpose tonight,” laughed Aalia. “I assume you’re going to give me no trouble, are you Greg?”

“Aalia, I promised you this weekend would be okay with me so come and do your worst,” I replied as Aalia entered the small cell and turned me around to lace and zip me in the black leather arm binder.

If you’ve ever worn an armbinder before, you’ll know what I mean when I say the thing is right, very tight and extremely uncomfortable after long periods of time! Soon Aalia was happy that my arms were out of action (again) and all that I needed now was a Burka to hide the wool catsuit, leather corset and the armbinder. Tonight Aalia had picked out the heaviest black all encompassing garment she could find:

“I’m going to continue cooking tonight,” I complained as Aalia pulled the extremely heavy black material over my body.

“That’s the idea Greg,” replied Aalia in a sarcastic tone. “And if you continue to complain, I’ll find my longest woollen scarf and gag you with it!”

Aalia then led me out of the cell block and past the swimming pull before entering the house:

“You can watch me get changed tonight and then my driver will take us into town,” explained Aalia.

I then sat on Aalia’s massive bed and watch her change into the sexiest black silk bra, pants, garter belt and stockings, before stepping into a beautiful black satin mini dress:

“Can you please help me with the zip,” requested Aalia. “Oh no, silly me, you can’t!”

Aalia then approached and threw her arms around me, kissing me through the heavy Burka that masked my face:

“Do you like what you see Greg,” teased Aalia?

“You know I love what I see Aalia,” I replied in a frustrated tone.

“Aw, is poor little Greg a little tied up right now?” Aalia continued her teasing.

Soon Aalia was pulling on a black Burka similar to the one I was wearing, and within ten minutes we were in her car being driven to the Indian restaurant with the cubicals we previously visited.  While there, Aalia removed her Burka, then mine and we sat in the cubical with food being passed through to us via the hatch. With my arms bound in the leather armbinder Aalia had to take the time to feed me, which she clearly enjoyed.

“Are you enjoying yourself Greg?” questioned Aalia.

“I am my sweet,” I replied. “I would prefer to be free of this outfit but I guess if it makes you happy, it makes me happy.

“I’m glad to hear that Greg,” responded Aalia. “It does make me happy to see you in my cashmere body suit and wearing the corset, which I think you’re actually getting used to.

“It is uncomfortable Aalia,” I replied. “But I really do like the tightness that this bondage gives me.”

Aalia then leaned over the table and kissed me.

“I love this game Greg and I love you,” explained Aalia.

“I love you too Aalia,” I replied to the mysterious girl from the east that I’d really fallen for.

Soon our Burka’s were back on and we were heading back to Aalia’s home. Once there, I was led straight to the cell block and not Aalia’s bedroom as I’d hoped. Once inside my cell, Aalia ripped off her Burka, followed by the red dress. She then lifted my Burka off my head and we started making love. I remained inside the wool suit, with my torso squeezed in the leather corset and my arms tightly restrained in the leather arm binder.

“Come on Aalia,” please let me out of the suit?” I pleaded

“Okay, my dear,” replied Aalia. “I suppose you’ve been in it long enough.”

With that, Aalia started to unzip and unlace the leather armbinder. The leather corset came off next and finally I was naked, free of the cashmere wool suit that Aalia had forced me to wear all day.

“That’s better, thank you my sweet,” I praised, taking hold of Aalia and slipping off her black silk pants so we could finally make love today.

We lay in each other’s arms for quite a time after we both came.

“I don’t really want to leave you in here tonight,” explained Aalia, kissing once again.

“Well you don’t have to,” I replied. “We could head back to the house together and spend the rest of the night in your bed.”

Aalia just looked straight into my eyes:

“But that would ruin my game plan for this weekend,” teased Aalia. “Anyway you’ve never experienced a whole night in my cells and I think you really have to experience this until Sunday night!”

Sadly it was settled and I was to be left alone for the rest of the night. I was still naked when Aalia picked up all the clothes and slid closed, locking the inner bars, followed by the outer cell door for the last time tonight. I then climbed into my bunk and tried to get a good night’s sleep.

Day two (Saturday) of my three days in Aalia’s custody started well with the love of my life bringing me  breakfast in bed and then allowing me to shower. Once showered, Aalia provided me with a very sexy outfit to wear today. First I pulled on very, very tight spandex (black) pants that kept my cock pushed down and out of the way. Next Aalia laced me into a very nice black silk boned corset, which she spent the next twenty minutes lacing me down to an acceptable size. Finally, I was handed black opaque stockings and after pulling them both on, Aalia, attached them to the suspenders hanging from the silk corset.

“Umm, you look good Greg,” purred Aalia.

“Umm, this feels good,” I purred in response and then we both kissed.

My underwear complete, Aalia produced a pair of hand spheres, which were soon surrounding both my hands, forcing them into a fist, before being locked inside the steel spheres:

“That should keep you out of trouble today,” laughed Aalia, who also produced the much larger sphere for my head.

This was locked in place and my world was in darkness but at least I still had the use of my voice:

“So what have you planned for today?” I asked Aalia.

“Well I’m going out to meet my sister and you’re staying here for the day,” replied Aalia.

“Come on pet, you can’t do that,” I pleaded but by then it was too late as Aalia was already closing and locking the inner bars. “Enjoy yourself today Greg,” and then the outer door was closed and I was left on my own to enjoy the entire day, locked inside my cell, wearing female underwear and the fucking spheres that surrounded my hands and head.

That Saturday (day 2 in Aalia’s custody) was to be a very long day indeed! With my hands secured in the steel spheres, I could do nothing with my hands; I couldn’t even pull down the spandex pants to take a piss! With the heavy steel sphere incarcerating my entire head, I was blind and my head being effectively locked inside a steel fishbowl, every breath in and out, reverberated around my entire head. I paced the small cell (blind) and then sat down on the bunk, trying to rest but the weight of the head sphere drove me slowly to insanity. Again as I lapsed into unconsciousness (sleep), the awareness of my breathing brought me back to life and the cycle of madness began all over again. This went on, hour after hour, after hour and in truth, I’ve no idea how many hours had passed when I finally heard the outer cell door being opened:

“How is my little prisoner tonight?” asked Aalia from the other side of the locked steel bars (I think).

“How am I!” I replied sarcastically. “How the fuck am I? You have a fucking cheek asking me that after leaving me locked in here, wearing these fucking spheres!”

“Okay then Greg, suit yourself,” replied Aalia, slamming the outer door closed and leaving me once again in my personal hell-hole.

I had no idea how long it was until Aalia returned again but with my bladder about to burst, I used a different tact on my captor.

“Ah am I glad you’re here,” I greeted the sound of the outer door opening again.

“How do you know it was me,” teased Aalia? “Anyway, are you going to be a little more pleasant to me?”

“Yes sweetheart,” I replied. “I really, really badly need to take a piss and these spheres are driving me nuts! Can you please, please, please take them off?”

“Okay honey, come over here and I’ll unlock them,” requested Aalia from behind the bars.

I then stood up and headed towards where I thought the bars were. Aalia did direct me and from the other side of the locked bars, she first unlocked the head sphere and then each of my hands. She then left me alone for a few minutes to take that badly needed leak but when she came back, I was instructed to turn around so that Aalia could lock my hands behind my back. She was serious about my security tonight, sighting the fact that I’d been locked up all day and she worried about her own safety with all my pent up frustration. Once secured, I was able to turn around and view my beautiful girlfriend for the first time in hours. She was really gorgeous, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a silk blouse:

“You look absolutely gorgeous Aalia,” I coo’d pressing my face against the bars of my cell.

“Well thank you Greg,” replied Aalia. “You don’t look so bad yourself, especially in that underwear. Would you like to come out and join me for dinner?”

I wasn’t going to give up a chance to get out of the prison cell and spend some quality time with my girl. I was to remain handcuffed during dinner that evening but this didn’t concern me as I was out of the tiny cell that drove me nuts all day, the spheres and actually, I quite enjoyed Aalia taking the time to feed me:

“You might now have a vague understanding of what it was like for me to be stuck in jail with my head locked in the fucking mask of shame,” Aalia started to at least try to justify keeping me locked up all day.

“It was a miserable day Aalia,” I responded, “but at least I hadn’t my mouth filled with the gag that you were forced to endure,” I continued to sympathise with my beautiful friend.

We then kissed before Aalia led me back to my cell. She at least followed me in and after unlocking my hands from behind my back and keeping one wrist still cuffed, she forced me onto my back before using the cuffs to lock my hands to the rail at the top of the bunk. With me now secured to the bed, Aalia pulled down my spandex pants and ripped off her dress. We fucked for the next thirty minutes.

With us both satisfied, Aalia just got up, said goodnight and left me, still locked in the cell and still handcuffed to the bunk, where I remained for my second night in captivity. I was comfortable in the cell and kept warm by the duvet that Aalia had dumped over my half naked body. I say ‘half naked’ because I was still wearing the tight satin boned corset, which was attached to the black opaque stockings but I was without any pants and I had an entire night to lie there, awaiting Aalia’s return and to avoid pissing myself!

I was therefore relieved and extremely glad to see Aalia when she finally returned first thing on the Sunday morning:

“Good morning sleepy head,” Aalia greeted me as she slid open the inner bars.

“Am I glad to see you Aalia,” I greeted my girlfriend and captor. “I badly need to take a leak so can you please uncuff me?”

“What’s it worth darling,” Aalia teased, standing over me with the keys to my handcuffs hanging from her fingers?

“I’ll do anything sweetheart,” I contained to plead. “I’ll do anything but please honey, please, please let me out as I’m in significant pain!”

“You may regret saying that,” laughed Aalia as she uncuffed my hands from the bed. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes so you have the run of the cell block so please go and take a shower.”

My most urgent requirement was a piss, which took several minutes to complete. Of course I tested the outer door before giving up and heading in for a well earned shower, after struggling to remove the corset and stockings.  I was just finishing drying myself off when Aalia returned with my outfit for the day ahead:

“You’ll love this outfit Greg,” explained Aalia as she entered the cell block.

“I’m sure I will,” I replied, being directed back towards my cell.

Once there, Aalia first handed me a black opaque body stocking, which I previously enjoyed so much. After I’d slipped into the wonderful soft Lycra material, Aalia help lace my into a black leather corset, which also locked via a rear zip. Next she handed me a pair of black opera gloves, which I also loved the feeling of, as I slipped them over each hand and up my forearms. Next came the dress; a bright blue short sleeved satin dres that zipped up the back and came half way down my now Lycra covered legs:

“Turn around please Greg,” instructed Aalia, holding a pair of hinged handcuffs?

“You don’t need to cuff me again,” I tried to get out of the bondage that I secretly loved!

“Yes I do,” demanded Aalia who took hold of my left arm, slapped one cuff on and then spinning me around, without too much effort I must add; slapped on the second handcuff, now pinning both arms behind my back! “Isn’t that much better,” she teased; spinning me back around and planting a kiss on my mouth.

As with our new routine, me dressed as a girl and hands cuffed behind my back, Aalia led me back to the house, where she fed me a fabulous breakfast.

“Right Greg, we’re going out for a walk today by the beach so I’m going to prepare you before I get dressed myself, is that okay?” requested Aalia.

“What choice to I have honey?” I asked sarcastically.

“You have the choice to spend another day in your cell and I’ll go to the beach alone,” laughed Aalia.

“As I guessed!” I responded, still in a sarcastic tone. “I really do not have a choice at all!”

Aalia then led my upstairs to her bedroom and opened her scarf drawer:

“I think some gagging and veiling is in order today,” laughed Aalia as she picked out two scarves to start with!

First a small blue silk neck scarf was balled up and shoved in my mouth. This was followed by a larger square of blue and white printed silk, which Aalia folded into a tight band, tied a knot in the middle and then forced this into my mouth, trapping the wad of silk that was already there. Aalia then tied this behind my head, very tightly so there was no way the wad of silk and the large knot, were coming out of my mouth. Next Aalia took out a plain blue square of silk and allowed this to fall open on her bed (beside me). This was now folded into a triangle and brought up to my face, masking me from the nose down. The two ends were tied once behind my head and then brought around, in front and tied in a double knot, holding the bottom of the triangle tight against my neck. Finally a massive blue silk square scarf was brought out:

“Do you like that your entire outfit except your arms and legs are in blue today Greg?” teased Aalia as she started placing the scarf over my head and tying it Grace Kelly style.

All I could do was a mumph and response back to this devious girl that I’d fallen in love with.

“Wait there,” demanded Aalia. “I’ll be back in a second with your Burka!”

Where was I going to go? I was sitting on Aalia’s bed wearing female cloths, gagged and veiled, handcuffed and soon to be covered head to toe in a bright blue Afghani Burka, which Aalia was now returning with in her hands.

“Stand up and look at yourself in the mirror,” suggested Aalia as she dragged me to my feet and led me towards the full length mirror at the other side of her large bedroom.

The transformation was as expected. I looked like any other Kumarian lady. I was covered head to toe in a bright blue satin Burka and no one would ever know that I was really a guy dressed in female clothing below; bound, veiled and gagged! Next I watched Aalia get dressed in wonderful black silk lingerie (bra, pants and stockings). This was followed by black opera gloves and a wonderful black satin mini dress. She looked absolutely gorgeous but surprised me next, was the black scarf that she used to veil her face and then cover her head (also Grace Kelly style):

“You didn’t think you were going to be the only one enjoying veils today, did you Greg,” teased Aalia as she fetched her thick black satin Afghani Burka.

We were now set for our walk by the beach in Kumar. It was eleven o’clock when Aalia’s driver dropped us off and he was told to be back at 2PM sharp to take us both home. This was certainly going to be a strange couple of hours! First of all, I was gagged underneath all these layers so communication was only one sided. This brings me back to all these layers! It was about 35 degrees under the mid day sun and I was wearing the Lycra body stocking, a leather corset and the satin dress under the heavy satin Burka. Then there were the scarves that not only gagged me, but veiled my face and covered my head. I was therefore hot, very hot while walking along side Aalia, who I guess wasn’t having much of an easier time under the heavy black clothing she was wearing. Aalia had two bonuses: (1) she wasn’t gagged so could talk and (2) she wasn’t handcuffed! Now; you would expect to see loads of half naked bodies on the beach but here in Kumar you saw none of that, except for the kids playing on the sand or in the water. No fathers were around so all you saw was a sea of Burka clad woman sitting on deckchairs or standing, watching their kids play:

“I guess this is a strange site for you Greg?” asked Aalia as we walked side-by-side.

All I could do was mumph a response, while nodding at the same time:

Aalia just laughed:

“Oh sorry darling, I forgot, you can’t talk,” teased Aalia.

Aalia then started to talk at me, rather than to me:

“You know Greg,” Aalia started. “Until you arrived, I hated the Burka. I despised having to wear it outside and that is what got me into trouble. I’m now actually enjoying wearing it, now that you’re on the scene. You’ve no idea how turned on I am, knowing that you’re a guy trapped in female clothing, handcuffed and gagged but most importantly having no option but to experience what females have to contend with everyday in this oppressive country. Most of the woman you see at the beach will have had to ask their husbands permission to leave the house today and that is why I have never had a long term relationship with a Kumarian guy!”

Again, I tried to talk to Aalia but nothing audible came out:

“It’s okay darling,” reassured Aalia as she stopped to look straight into my mesh covered eyes. “You don’t need to speak, becasuse I’m in control this weekend so just accept your position as my play-thing. In fact, I’m enjoying having you dressed as a girl and bound so much, I might just keep you this way from now on!”

Now that got me spooked! I had work to do tomorrow and hopefully a job to go to at the end of the month, here in Kumar and I wanted to at least live my life as a free man and not as Aalia’s bondage puppet. I stood in front of Aalia, looking straight at her mesh covered eyes, violently shaking my head and mumphing no!

“Relax Greg, you’ll be free tonight and we can go out for a meal as a normal Kumarian couple,” explained Aalia. “I know that you will allow me to dress you up and tie your hands at any time so I’ve no need to force you into bondage!”

We continued to walk a little more before Aalia announced that she needed a drink. This was alright for her but there was no way that I could drink with my mouth packed with silk.

“Oh I suppose there is no point buying you a drink,” teased Aalia as she lifted a glass with a straw under her Burka.

It was clear that Aalia had forgotten about her scarf face veil because soon the glass reappeared and Aalia started fiddling with her veil under her Burka:

“Shit, forgot about the veil,” she laughed, lifting the glass of ice cold water and a straw under her Burka for a second time.

She continued to tell me all about what she would do to me on other weekends when I’d be at her mercy again. On any other occasion, this would have excited me so much but right now, I was hot, thirsty and frustrated and the last thing I wanted was to be wearing this garb and to be handcuffed and gagged in public. When Aalia finished her drink, we set off in the opposite direction to the way we’d come. Clearly we were on our way back to the pick-up point and therefore back to Aalia’s house and its’ air conditioned comfort. When we finally arrived home, I had some optimism of freedom as Aalia led me into the kitchen and poured me a large glass of Water. The Burka came off first, followed by the head scarf, face veil and the two scarves gagging me:

“Thank you Aalia, that feels much better,” I praised as the new love of my life helped me drink.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it Greg,” replied Aalia. “Now let’s get you back to your cell as I’d like to take a bath before we go out tonight.”

“Sweetheart, it is Sunday afternoon so you could free me,” I pleaded with Aalia not to lock me back in the dark cell.

“That’s right, it is not Sunday night so until sun-down, you’re my prisoner and you’ll stay handcuffed and locked in the cell. In fact, you can also wear the gag and veils for the rest of the day too!”

With that, Aalia re-fixed my gag, face veil and headscarf (Grace Kelly style) before pulling the Burka over my head once again and the walk across the yard to the old stable block and my cell. Once inside, Aalia turned me around and started to kiss me through the multiple layers that covered my face:

“Greg, I really love having you as my bound play-thing. I have changed my mind, I think I’ll keep you here as my toy so get used to the handcuffs, veils and Burka’s because this is your life from now on!”

I panicked at Aalia’s suggestion that I was to be her Burka clad, bondage plaything but there was nothing I could say or do at this time. She pushed me away and then the inner bars were slid closed and locked:

“Get used to your new home Greg,” laughed Aalia” “You’ll be spending a very long time in this room, dressed as you are and without the use of your hands so until dinner time, see-ya!”

With that Aalia was gone and the outer cell door closed and locked. The realisation of my situation then hit home that I was stuck in this cell, dressed as a girl, gagged veiled and wearing a fucking Burka. My hands were cuffed behind my back so there was absolutely nothing I could do until Aalia returned. Throughout this entire weekend her security had been very tight and there had been very little chance of my escaping so how long would it now be until I was free?

Securing a future in Kumar:

As I sat there in Aalia’s cell, dressed in the black Lycra body stocking, leather corset, bright blue satin dress, with my gloved hands (Black Lycra opera gloves) handcuffed behind my back and my head and face covered in silk scarves and my mouth gagged with the same, not forgetting the heavy blue satin Burqa that completely shrouded my male figure; I pondered what my future in Kumar would now be like as Aalia’s bondage slave? Yes I know that I enjoy cross-dressing and bondage but this brought my fantasies to an entirely different level! I wanted to help my employer win this new contract for the Kumarian government but how could I do that if Aalia kept my locked up and bound in the stable cell block? The weird thing was that even though I was scared shitless right now, my cock was so hard, he was trying to break free from the thick Lycra body stocking that I wore under all my female layers. Shit I was horny but why? I didn’t want to be kept as Aalia’s full time play thing but I was happy to play with her on the occasions that suited us both but at the moment, Aalia held all the cards, especially as I was shrouded, bound and gagged.

My fear and misery turned into panic as I sat in Aalia’s cell waiting for the girl who I thought was the love of my life and who had now turned on me, imprisoning me against my will!

I therefore had a strange sense of fear and trepidation as I heard the outer cell door opening and Aalia standing in front of the locked inner bars, covered head to toe in a black satin Burqa with her eyes barely visible through the mesh panel in front of her face.

“Please don’t be scared Greg,” Aalia broke the silence from behind her Burqa.

She then slid open the inner bars and approached me, sitting on cell bunk.

“Are you scared of me sweetie?” Aalia continued.

I nodded vigorously, mumphing into my gag.

“Please honey, don’t be scared of me,” Aalia raised her bare hands from under the Burqa and stroked my Burqa and veiled face.

Aalia then started to dance in front of me, finally lifting her black Burqa and reviling the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen her wear so far. Fuck did she look good right now in black stockings, pants and a leather corset. Aalia’s face was also hidden behind a leather hood, with only her eyes peering out of the two eye holes. The leather mask had no mouth, only a myriad of tiny perforations around where her mouth should be:

“Calm down sweetheart,” Aalia tried hard to reassure me but the fear of spending the rest of my life as her shrouded and bound slave wasn’t a future I wanted! “Relax Greg; I’ve no intention of keeping you hear against your will!”

My pent up frustration finally turned to tears as the reality of my current situation turned to illation with Aalia’s words, I was not going to be her full time bondage slave.

“Come on Greg, calm down,” Aalia threw her arms around me, trying to get me to relax but it was no good.

Aalia then tugged at my Burqa but it wasn’t moving because I was sitting on it.

“Work with me Greg,” demanded Aalia as I stood up and enabled her to get the heavy mass of bright blue satin off my body. Aalia then worked on the veils and gag before she tried to wipe the tears from my face:

“I’m so sorry Greg, please forgive me,” Aalia pleaded. “I never meant to scare you but I realise now that I’ve crossed the line I’d really hadn’t planned to.”

“Aalia you scared the shit out of me,” I bubbled. “I’m happy to dress-up for you when you want and I’d be delighted if you continued tying me up and gagging me but I have a life that means I’m a free man, with a free will to give up my male ego for you alone, when it is convenient to us both.”

“I’m so sorry Greg,” Aalia continued. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

She then started to try and kiss me but her mouth was hidden behind the leather mask but when that didn’t work, Aalia reached for the rear zip:

“Please Aalia, leave the mask on, I like it?” I asked.

Aalia then stopped.

“Could you please uncuff me sweetheart?” I requested.

“I’ll need to go any get the keys,” replied Aalia.

“That’s fine, let’s go,” I continued to ask for my freedom.

We stood up and I followed Aalia out of the cell. When she got to the cupboard of toys, Aalia picked out a large ring of keys and suggested I turn around. For the first time all day, my wrists were now free of handcuffs and my sore arms could hang free.

“Thank you honey,” I praised my masked friend and then put my arms around Aalia and kissed on the perforated leather hiding her face.

“Do you forgive me Greg?” asked Aalia.

“Of course I forgive you Aalia,” I responded, “but please never do anything like that again!”

“I promise Greg, I’ll not do anything like that again,” Aalia continued to plead for forgiveness.

I then took Aalia’s hand a led her back to the house and her bedroom. When we got onto Aalia’s bed, I removed her pants before taking my own dress off, followed by pulling my rock hard cock from behind the Lycra body stocking. We then made love and sometime during this intense session, I unzipped and removed her leather mask. As we lay beside each other, trying to gain some composure, I lifted the empty leather hood and studied it in detail:

“Here try it on Greg,” suggested Aalia as she took the hood from my hands and slipped the soft leather over my heading, tugging the zip down to my neck.

“Umm, this is nice,” I purred, relishing the feeling of the inner lined leather that now covered my entire face.

“It really suits you Greg,” laughed Aalia.

“Yeah only because you’re a kinky bitch,” I laughed in response. “Are we still going out for a meal?”

“We sure are.” replied Aalia.

“Right my sweet,” I called the shots tonight. “You’re going to stay in that underwear but I want you to fetch another leather mask with a mouth-hole, because I’d like you to wear it to dinner.”

“Do you want me to wear anything else Greg,” asked Aalia.

“Yes silly,” I laughed in response! “Go and put on a black mini dress and fetch your black Burqa.”

I then used the next thirty minutes to shower and get dressed in male cloths. This was weird because I’d worn female clothing for the last three days but I was glad to be going out with my girlfriend as a normal couple, as normal goes in Kumar with all females forced to veil in public. Dinner was really nice. Aalia didn’t have to wear her Burqa while in the cubical with me but it was hilarious watching her eat while wearing a leather hood that was laced very tightly over her head. Aalia’s long dark hair had been pulled into a ponytail and bright through a hold on the top of the leather hood. I was therefore kept Horney during the entire meal, which meant we didn’t waste time getting home and spending an entire night in bed. Yes (before you ask), I did ask Aalia to wear the leather mask while we made love and we fell asleep with her still wearing it!

Monday morning came and an early start because I wanted to call my boss (Victoria) back in London to understand a little more about the project my employer was bidding for. I’m an IT project manager so I knew we had been bidding to work on some international government contracts but it was a surprise to then understand that the Kumarian Ministry of Justice had recently visited the UK and met with the UK’s court service to review a project that we had recently completed for the database to manage prisoners on remand (awaiting a court hearing), which included GPS tracking via electronic tagging, which is very popular in the UK and saved the tax payer hundreds of millions of pounds each year because tagging was a much cheaper option to remanding people in prison, while they await their court appearance.

It was set! I had an appointment tomorrow morning at the Kumar City Court House, which was the same court that I met Aalia, when I first arrived in Kumar to free her from her prison sentence:

“Honey, I’ve got my brief from work,” I explained to Aalia. “I have an appointment at the Kumar City Court House in the morning at 10AM to meet the people responsible for the remand prisoner tagging project.”

“You’ll be an expert in the Kumarian tagging process,” laughed Aalia. “You know how I was collared for the rest of my sentence!”

“I never thought of it that way Aalia,” I replied. “I’ve therefore got you to thank for getting me up to speed on the Kumarian remand process so quickly then!”

We both laughed and prepared the day because Aalia had agreed to help me shop for a new suit today. I’d now been in Kumar a little over three weeks and I hadn’t brought any work attire. Therefore after breakfast I drove us both into the large mall on the outskirts of Kumar City. Being a guy, it only took me a short time to chose a suit, various shirts and some shoes to wear to work the next day (and helpfully much longer):

“That’s me done,” I announced. “How about we find you some new cloths for you Aalia?”

“I’ve never gone shopping for clothes with a guy before,” laughed Aalia as she directed me towards a ladies fashion shop.

Once there the female assistant approached me in a bright blue Burqa and started to speak to me in Arabic.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.

“Of course sir,” replied the pleasant girl hidden behind her Burqa. “How can I help you?”

“Actually I’ve done my shipping for today but my girlfriend is looking for a new outfit for work,” I announced, getting a shove from Aalia who was wearing her favourite black satin Burqa, with long opera gloves.

“Well sir, you’re the boss,” said the sales girl. “What had you in mind?”

I then stood still and thought for a moment. I sure could have some fun with this!

“My girlfriend is starting a new job with me tomorrow at the Ministry of Justice,” I continued. “She is therefore required to dress appropriately for the very important role as my interpreter and I wish to insure that she doesn’t offend my client.”

“If sir and madam would like to follow me into a more private area, we can find some appropriate attire,” announced the sales assistance as we followed her into the private room. “If you would please allow me to chose some of our designer wear, I will be back in ten minutes. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you both some coffee, which will be here in a few minutes.”

With that, Aalia and I were alone.

“What are you doing Greg?” asked Aalia.

“Well, I do need some help tomorrow and who best to help me,” I replied. “Do you have a problem helping me win this contract for my employer so that I can stay in Kumar longer?”

“Put it like that Greg, I am happy to help you,” replied Aalia, “So why the new wardrobe?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “It seemed a fun idea but I do want to make sure you are dressed appropriately tomorrow.”

The coffee arrived a few minutes later, followed by the sales assistant, pulling a hanger of cloths on wheels:

“I think madam would suit dark grey if she is working in the Ministry of Justice sir,” explained the sales girl. “Dressing to the Law According to Kumar as therefore requires the strictest Purdah so I’ve taken the liberty to picking out this suit for madam.”

We both thanked the sales assistant as she laid out the suit she’d prepared for Aalia:

First there was the underwear. A thick Lycra body stocking (black) that covered her body from neck to toe and included built in gloves:

“This means you do not need gloves Aalia,” I commented.

“Oh no sir, she does,” the sales assistant interjected. “I have also chosen much thinker spandex gloves (black again) for madam to wear. This is required under the strict laws of Purdah.”

I laughed as Aalia huffed and puffed in frustration under her Burqa.

“Would sir like madam to be corseted,” asked the sales assistant?”

“Of course,” I replied, which got more grunts from Aalia. “I favour a leather corset to go with leather high heeled boots. “Can you please select appropriate samples for my girlfriend to try on?”

The sales girl then left the private room to fetch boots and a corset but clearly Aalia wasn’t happy:

“You’re enjoying this Greg, aren’t you,” asked Aalia.

“I am Aalia but why will the sales assistant not address you?” I asked in a confused tone.

“Because you are here my love,” replied Aalia. “If I had been on my own or with my sister or girlfriends, then she would communicate with me but since you’re here, you are a man and therefore you are the boss!”

“I’m really beginning to like this country,” I laughed as the sales assistant returned.

Before I sent Aalia away to put on the new outfit, I chose a dark grey dres for Aalia to wear to work with me:

“This dress will work well with the outfit sir,” explained the sales girl. “While it does complement your girlfriends shape, it will be hidden behind the Burqa I’ve chosen.”

I then took hold and had a closer look at the grey short sleeved dres that would come down to just above Aalia’s knees.

“We also have the working veil,” explained the sales assistant, handing me a thick spandex mask with two mesh covered eyes. “This will ensure that no matter what happens, your girlfriends face will not be seen by your client.”

I took hold of the spandex mask and studied it for a minute:

“As long as my girlfriend doesn’t pull it off her head!” I laughed.

The sales assistant then looked at me:

“We have another solution sir,” replied the sale assistant. “If sir would permit me to retrieve a different body stocking with a built-in hood, then madam will not be able to uncover her head.”

“I think that is an excellent idea,” I responded.

The sales assistant then disappeared for a few minutes and returned with two new body stockings, which would cover Aalia from head to toe:

“We have two options sir,” explained the sales assistant: “Both provide madam with two mesh eyes as per the laws of Kumar but this first body stocking has a hole for the mouth in the hood and the second here has the mouth completely covered.”

“I’m going to love this even more than I first thought,” I replied. “Thank you very much for the two sections but madam would prefer the second option with the covered mouth. Can I please ask that you help Aalia try these clothes on for me?”

I ensured that I was allowed to see Aalia in the dress before putting on the Burqa and once it was explained to me that we were in a private room, I sent Aalia off to get changed and the sales assistant agreed to help her into her corset. Within fifteen minutes a female figure in a grey dress, with black hands feet and of course head, paraded in front of me. Aalia looked absolutely gorgeous, especially with her complete face covered:

“How do you eat wearing the mask?” I asked.

“Quite simply you don’t,” replied the sales girl. “I could also provide you with a gag, which is a very popular accessory but as you require your girlfriend to translate for you, I think it would be a little over the top!”

“Excellent,” I replied. “Now let’s see the Burqa you’ve chosen.”

I then watched as the sales assistant helped Aalia into the black Afghani Burqa.

“This Burqa is made of a new synthetic silk like material sir,” explained the sales assistant. “It is very light and provides a double layer mesh screen in front of the wearer’s eyes and added padding around the nose and face so there is no chance of seeing your girlfriends face.”

“You have made an excellent choice my dear,” I praised the sales assistant. “I notice this Burqa has a hood or something?”

The sales girl just laughed, placing her hands to her Burqa covered face:

“Oh no sir, this is an extra veil,” explained the sales girl. “As you can see if I pull it over madam’s head, the silk-like material falls to her chest, covering her entire face.”

“Aalia can you see under that veil?” I asked my girlfriend.

Aalia just shook her head.

“Very well, is there anything else you would recommend?” I asked the sales girl.

The blue Burqa stood in front of me and thought for a minute:

“Not unless you want to restrain madam in the law of Purdah,” replied the sales assistant.

“Restrain her, what do you have in mind?” I asked.

The sales assistant scampered off in the hope of a big bonus and Aalia just stood in front of me:

“You are really enjoying this Greg,” she laughed”

“Why are you not?” I teased.

At that moment, the sales assistant returned with a black leather belt with two leather cuffs hanging from either side:

“Can I please demonstrated?” asked the sales assistant.

Gaining my approval, Aalia’s Burqa was pulled up and without completely removing it; the sales assistant fitted the heavy leather belt around Aalia’s waist. She used a small lock fitted to the belt buckle to ensure it wasn’t coming off. Next each of Aalia’s hands were buckled into the leather cuffs and a similar lock was inserted to prevent any chance of self removal. The Burqa was then pulled back into place.

“There you go sir, your personal interrupter is ready for work,” concluded the sales assistant.

“And so she is,” I replied. “Can I simply pay for the outfit?”

“Would you like madam to wear her new outfit home,” asked the sales assistant who was preparing the electronic credit card machine? “I can pack her old cloths into a bag for you!”

“That would be wonderful,” I replied as I nearly died on the spot when I realised how much this new outfit had just cost me.

Leaving the double veil in place, I took the bags and led Aalia out into the mail:

“You’re a bastard Greg,” explained Aalia in a very frustrated voice. “You’ve tricked me into this bondage!”

It was then I heard the sales assistant running out behind us:

“Sir, I forgot to give you the keys to madam’s restraint belt!” she announced.

I thanked the sales assailant again for her help and I led Aalia back to her BMW for the short drive home.

“I’m going to enjoy working with you Aalia,” I laughed.

“I bet you are,” Aalia responded. “I’ll not be doing much work wearing this outfit!”

“I only require you to be able to listen and speak!” I laughed.

Once home I prepared some lunch but fearful of Aalia’s new work outfit getting messed up before going to work tomorrow, I helpful her out of it and she changed into a pair of jeans and tight spandex top that showed off her wonderful figure.

“Jesus, you look great in anything,” I praised Aalia as she entered the kitchen as I placed the food on the table.

“Well thank you kind sir,” Aalia thanked me. “I bet you’d prefer this outfit if I added some scarves?”

“Maybe later sweetheart, let’s eat,” I replied, passing Aalia the main bowl of pasta.

We discussed how I would conduct myself at the meeting tomorrow morning and how Aalia would represent me if anyone spoke in Arabic. It was clear that she didn’t fancy the bondage belt so I agreed to think about that particular accessory if she allowed me to tie her up in scarves that afternoon:

“So you’d like some scarf play Greg?” teased Aalia.

“Have you a better idea of how to spend this afternoon?” I continued to tease my sexy girlfriend.

“Okay then Greg, you go ahead and clear up and I’ll go upstairs and slip into some more appropriate,” suggested Aalia.

When I arrived upstairs, Aalia was wearing a pair of black opaque tights with a navy blue leotard over the top:

“As I stated earlier Aalia, you do look good in anything!” I licked my lips.

Aalia led me into one of her other spare bedrooms:

“This is the drawer where I keep all my used scarves Greg,” explained Aalia. “These scarves are for playing and not wearing!” she continued to laugh.

I first picked out a large silk square of reds and blacks. I folded it into a thick band and tied it over Aalia’s eyes:

“You’re going to enjoy this session blind,” I laughed taking my next scarf. “Turn around please and cross your hands behind you back?”

Aalia complied and soon I’d twisted a very long black satin scarf around her wrists several times, tying them securely behind her back:

“Umm, this feels good Greg,” coo’d Aalia.

“I’m not sure you’ll be so happy when I’m finished Aalia,” I laughed.

My next scarf was a five-foot length of red silk, which I used to tie Aalia’s ankles. I first crossed her legs, before starting my bondage:

“You’re serious about my bondage today Greg,” laughed Aalia, who was clearly enjoying her afternoon session.

Next came an even long piece of green silk, which I used to tie Aalia’s knees. I tugged as hard as I could before tying my first knot and then looping the ends twice between Aalia’s knee’s, pulling the main scarf band even tighter. The fourth scarf, a green and white paisley print was folded into a thick band and used to tie Aalia’s elbow’s, which I tugged as hard as I could to try and get them to touch:

“Go easy Greg, I’m not twenty anymore!” yelped Aalia,

“I was going to shut your mouth but now is as good a time as any,” I teased, searching Aalia’s used scarf drawer for what I needed.

Perfect I thought, pulling three scarves out. First was a small silk or satin neck scarf, which was balled up and pushed deep inside Aalia’s mouth. Next came another long blue and white silk scarf, which I wrapped twice around her face, puling the silk deep into Aalia’s mouth, forcing the first scarf even deeper. The third scarf was a yellow printed silk square, which I folded into a very thick padded scarf and pulled it over her the second cleave gag and tied the third scarf tightly behind Aalia’s head. All she was able to do is mumph back at me:

“Has the cat got your tongue love?” I teased.

Next I wanted to veil and hood my little bondage package so two more plain black square scarves were picked from the rapidly emptying drawer. The first was folder into a large triangle and covered Aalia’s face from nose to chin and the ends tied at her next. Aalia was now effectively masked by the blindfold and the veiling scarf. The final scarf was draped over her entire head and the two ends pulled tight around her neck, turning the final scarf into a silk hood:

“Can you breathe okay?” I sympathetically asked.

Aalia nodded her head and mumphed into her gag.

My final act for now was to lay my bound and gorgeous girlfriend onto her side on the bed and use a final long silk scarf to bind Aalia’s wrists to her ankles, a hogtie that she would never escape from without outside help.

“Okay my sweet, you lie down, relax and see if you can get out of those knots, while I watch some TV,” I laughed, patting the new love of my life on the bum and heading out of the bedroom, turning one last time to watch Aalia trying desperately to escape her bonds!

Aalia looked absolutely gorgeous in her Lycra tights and spandex leotard.  She mumphed hard into her gag as her body rocked from side to side as Aalia’s nimble fingers tried to reach the knots that were tied out of reach. I could already hear her frustration as she desperately fought to find even the smallest give in a knot but the facts were simple: (1) there was no way she could reach the knots and (2) the harder she pulled, the tighter they would become!

Aalia’s attempts were intoxicating to watch and to be quite frank; they were also making me very, very horny! I therefore decided to head into the other spare bedroom and find something special to wear, something special that would really get Aalia going when I finally released her. But what to wear, there was so much to choose from! As I poured through the racks of plus-sized female clothing, trying to find some inspiration, one item did grab my attention. It was a shiny black PVC Burqa. I therefore lifted it off the rail and found that it also hid something else inside. As I placed the heavy mass of rubber on the spare bed, I pulled out what I thought were a pair of incredibly high heeled leather boots, only to find that they were attached to the most wonderful black PVC catsuit that would cover a body, (hopefully my body) from head to toe! Yes, the rubber suit had long sleeves with built in gloves and a mask that had two dark lenses for eyes and a bulge where my nose and mouth should be. It was clearly time to strip off and try this thing on! The rear zippers were joined by an open padlock at the back so I slipped out the padlock and pulled both ends until I was able to start pulling on the suit. It was a struggle squeezing my feet down the long legs and into the built in high heeled boots. How the hell would I walk in these things but who cares, I was desperate to take this further. Once my feet were finally in the boots and the legs pulled up, I started to push my hands all the way down each sleeve until they reached the built in gloves. That complete, with the rubber suit still open at the back, it was time to slip my head into the built in mask and tug at the rear zippers. The mask was made if heavier rubber and the bulge in the face was a type of breathing regulator that I was now breathing through as my face squeezed into the mask and I started pulling on the two zippers. It was weird looking out through two lenses that were dark (like sunglasses) so as soon as I was done, it was time to take some very unsteady steps towards the mirror and I wasn’t disappointed. The rubber had squeezed my body and sticking out of the chest area were two large globs, just like two massive tits. The high heels looked fantastic and the sound of my breathing through the masked built in regulator, really added to the pleasure of wearing this rubber suit. As I turned to start pulling on the PVC Burqa, I noticed the padlock that I’d tossed on the bedside table. Should I risk it by using the padlock or should I just leave it. I’d no idea where Aalia kept all her keys and if she even had a key for this padlock but being horny, I didn’t use my head and soon I’d clicked the padlock into place, trusting that Aalia would know where it was. Finally, I started pulling on the very, very heavy rubber Burqa that a black steel mesh sown into the face, where my vision was going to be reduced to very little. That done, I looked at myself in the mirror again and couldn’t believe the vision that should in front of me: A cross between Dark Vador and some female bondage freak from the Middle East! It was then, I hit my fist problem and I began to panic! How would I unpick the knots on Aalia’s bondage with my hands in these rubber gloves? I’ve also no way to get out of the suit so what was I going to do? No time like the present to find out so I headed back along the corridor to where Aalia was still thrashing from side to side, trying to pick the knots, she clearly couldn’t reach:

“Ah, glad to see you’re stil here my love,” came my slightly muffled voice from behind the rubber mask.

Aalia froze when she heard me; trying to turn her head in the direction of where my voice was coming from, mumphing into her gag.

“Relax my sweet,” I again commanded, trying to get used to my new voice.

I decided it was time to play with Aalia a little and test how easy it would be for me to unpick some of her knots. I thought I’d start with the silk scarf that bound her knees. I was therefore amazed to find how easy the rubber gloves found the knots and allowed me to pick the silk until the scarf feel open. With Aalia now flat on her back and able to open her legs, I pulled back the crotch of her leotard and tugged on her tights (she’d no pants on), which enabled me (my rubber covered hands) to access her soaking wet pussy:

“Ah, you’re a little wet,” came a deep chuckle from behind the rubber mask.

Aalia didn’t have a clue as she thrust her pelvis towards my fingers, up and down until she exploded. I thought it was about time to introduce her to Dark Vador so I first released her crossed ankles and then the elbow’s before finally (after quite a little) her wrists. As soon as Aalia’s hands were free, she went for the scarves that covered her head, veiled her, blindfolded and gagged her. As Aalia’s focused for the first time in over and hour, she nearly screamed in shuck, when she saw the rubber Burqa looking down on her:

“You look fantastic,” she screamed. “I was going to introduce you to that suit this weekend but I have to say, it does everything I expected of it. You must also be wearing the rubber suit below!”

“I am, I replied; lifting the heavy Burqa from my second skin below.

“It really does suit you Greg,” teased Aalia as she rubbed her hands all over my PVC covered body. “Oh, you even found the padlock. I hope you know where the key is?”

“I hope you do,” I laughed in response.

There was then a silence.

“I’m really not sure where the key is Greg,” explained Aalia. It should be on the big key-ring in the stable cupboard but I can’t remember what I did with it.”

“It would be a shame to have to cut the suit off,” I replied. “Let’s go and have a look?”

With Aalia still in her tights and leotard, we headed for the stables, me struggling behind her in the massive heels:

“Come on slow coach!” laughed Aalia who clearly could see that I was struggling.

“Slow down pet,” I complained. “It isn’t easy walking in these heels, never mind walking fast!”

“Now you know what we girls have to put with,” Aalia continued to laugh.

Finally I made it across the courtyard and into the stable block or cell block as I’d come to know this outhouse:

“Come here, let’s try this one,” suggested Aalia, holding a key in her right hand.

That one didn’t work and neither did the twenty or thirty more, that Aalia tried.

“I told you Greg,” Aalia squirmed. “I’ve no idea which key fits that lock!”

“Come on sweetheart, stop taking the piss,” I teased. “You said you were going to put me into this suit later in the week, so where is the fucking key?”

Aalia then stopped and thought about it for a minute:

“I know Greg,” Aalia started to laugh. “My plan was to lock you in a cell with the key, which if I remember right, is at the bottom of a large plastic tub of frozen water.”

“It’s where?” I responded in a shocked voice.

“It is in a plastic tub. Which I filled with water and placed in the freezer,” explained Aalia. “It is in there with another key that would open the bars to any of my cells so I’d an idea of locking you inside but leaving the outer door open, giving you around two to three hours of waiting before you gained your freedom.”

I just stood there in amazement of Aalia’s devious imagination:

“Okay, let’s go to the freezer,” I announced, heading back to the main house.

Once there, Aalia fetched the plastic tub and I could clearly see two keys resting at the bottom, completely covered in a bath of ice. I took the plastic tub and requested that Aalia follow me, so we headed back to the cell block:

“Okay, show me what you were going to do Aalia,” I requested as we entered on the cells.

“Very simple Greg,” explained Aalia. “I was going to leave you in here, slide the bars closed until they locked and then head out shopping, leaving you to free yourself in a couple of hours.”

“Like this I replied,” sliding the bars closed until the lock automatically engaged, locking us born inside. “So you can also experience your devious plan!”

“Well at least I’m not stuck in a rubber suit,” laughed Aalia. “I was going to suggest we put that tub into a bath of hot water, which would have reduced the time you would have waited for release.”

“Yeah but is this not a lot more fun?” I laughed. “Come on you and I have never been locked up together!”

So Aalia and I spent the next couple of hours, locked in the cell together. It was nice to spend some time with the girl I’d fallen in love with. During those long hours in the cell, Aalia had undressed and pulled down my crotch zip, allowing us both to make love. Breathing through the respirator in the built in mask of the rubber suit was tough during the frantic desire for an orgasm but we made it in the end, which gave both Aalia and I some more time to get to know each other, while locked in here together.

It must have been late into the evening when I was finally able to get my rubber covered fingers into the freezing cold water and grab the two sets of keys. As I fiddled to unlock the suit,  Aalia squeezed her hands through the bars until she was able to reach the keyhole and unlock the sliding doors. I was so stupid to trust my devious lover because no sooner was she out of the bars, then she slammed them closed again, leaving me locked inside:

“I’m away for a bath and then I’ll prepare a meal so enjoy yourself in there a little longer,” laughed Aalia as she left the cell completely, slamming closed the outer door.

Yes, I was able to unlocked the padlock and peel off the heavy rubber suit but I’d nothing to wear so I lay under the duvet on the cell bunk bed and waited for Aalia to return, which she did an hour or so later:

“Here, get dressed and meet me in the kitchen,” demanded Aalia as she threw me some cloths and picked up the rubber suit, before heading back out of the cell.

I’d been left a pair of black spandex pants, sports bra, thick black opaque tights and a rather tight fitting spandex black dress. While it was a pleasure to slip into these cloths, I couldn’t help wondering why Aalia wanted me cross dressed for the short period between dinner and bed. Anyway, I’d no option and I enjoyed the feeling of the stretchy female clothing that I now wore. It was only as I exited the cell, did I find a pair of knee high leather boots to wear with a massive heel. With the boots in place, I made my way over the main house and found Aalia placing food on the table:

“Why do you want me dressed like this tonight,” I asked Aalia? “You’re wearing jeans and a silk top so why am I wearing this outfit?”

“No real reason Greg,” replied Aalia. “I just like you wearing girlie cloths, is that alright?”

We then sat down to dinner and enjoyed what was left of our Monday night. Tomorrow would be a completely new day and a change in circumstances as my holiday in Kumar was about to turn into a working holiday in Kumar.

 

Working holiday in Kumar:

Today was a new day indeed! Not only was I still in Kumar, I was spending quality time with Aalia, my new girlfriend. If I was to stay in Kumar, I’d have to turn this consultancy work into a long term project so whatever I was going to do from today onwards, I was going to work my socks off, because this contract was my ticket to stay in this wonderful, mysterious country.

This morning Aalia was wearing her dressing gown when I met her in the kitchen. I was already partly dressed in my suit:

“I hope you’re getting dressed soon?” I enquired.

“Yeah,” replied Aalia. “You’re making me wear that bloody body suit, which means I’ll not be able to eat once I’ve got it on!”

“Oh, sorry love,” I responded with a smile on my face. “I forgot about that.”

Aalia then went off to get dressed while I put away the dishes:

“Greg, could you come here please?” I heard Aalia shouting from upstairs.

I was there in a few seconds to see Aalia covered from head to toe in the black opaque suit with two mesh covered eyes staring back at me:

“Can you please help me with this corset?” asked Aalia in a sarcastic tone.

“With pleasure,” I replied, taking hold of the two open ends of the heavy leather garment from behind and starting the slow process of lacing Aalia in.

“Hey, that’s tight enough!” she complained.

“Nonsense,” I replied. “How many times have you laced me to breakpoint during this holiday?”

“Yeah but you were on holiday and didn’t need to go to work in this thing,” Aalia continued to complain as I pulled on the laces one more time before closing the zip and locking it closed.

“There you go Aalia, now where is your belt?” I teased.

Aalia turned to face me with those two massive mesh covered eyes looking up at me:

“Greg, please,” pleaded Aalia. “You don’t actually expect me to wear that belt do you?”

“Aalia, do you want me to win this contract?” I asked.

“Of course I do honey,” replied Aalia planting a Lycra covered kiss on my lips.

“Well then you’ll understand if I say that I want to make the very best impression today and quite frankly, as my assistant, I want to ensure you are 120% compliant with the law according to Kumar,” I explained my case while picking up the wide leather belt with two cuffs on each side.

With some more complaining Aalia gave in and after pulling on a pair of high heeled boots and the grey dress she allowed me to lock the wide leather belt around her waist and the cuffs around each wrist. I then helped her into the black Burqa and we were set:

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” I complemented Aalia as we headed out to her BMW and the driver.

“I don’t know whether or not to thank you for that complement Greg,” replied Aalia who was clearly still not happy with me.

As we arrived at the courthouse, I gave the receptionist my passport and we were asked to wait:

“Good morning Greg,” announced this red Burqa with a familiar voice. “I’m glad to see you’re still in Kumar!”

I stood up and lowered my head in recognition of the judge who had freed Aalia into my custody some weeks ago at the beginning of my holiday:

“Good morning your honour,” I replied. “It is lovely to see you again.”

“You’ll be glad to hear that I’m the senior sponsor for this tagging project Greg so if you and the lovely Aalia would please follow me, we can go to my office and have a coffee while I talk you through the project and introduce you to the project manager,” explained the judge.

Aalia struggled behind us as the judge and I made small talk on the way to her office.

“Will you have a coffee?” offered the judge as we sat down in her palatial office.

I thanked the judged as she poured me a coffee and then she turned to Aalia:

“I’m sorry your honour,” explained Aalia in a low submissive tone. “I’m a little tied up under here and I’ll be unable to accept any food or drink while at work today. I’m here to serve Greg as an interpreter and that is the only thing I’ll be able to do today.”

The judge had a chuckle to herself and then turned towards me:

“Greg, you have done a wonderful job taming this woman and for that you deserve a medal,” the judge continued to laugh.

“Thank you your honour,” I smiled in reply. “It was an easy job. Aalia is a fantastic girl and it was a pleasure to help her to understand the importance of the laws according to Kumar. I’ve just added a little extra security today but I can assure you that Aalia is very comfortable.”

We continued talking about the project when a female court official entered the judge’s chambers:

“Good morning your honour,” the girl with an English accent opened the conversation.

“Good morning Sharon,” welcomed the judge. “Greg, I’d like to introduce you to Sharon, the project manager that you’ll be working with during this three-week proof of concept. Sharon is from London as well and has been working with us for the past six months.”

Sharon who was wearing an official uniform of the court (blue trouser suit, long gloves, a mask clearly covering her head under the blue Niqab) shook hands with me and then tried to shake hands with Aalia:

“Nice to meet you Sharon,” Aalia acknowledged this English rose. “I’d love to shake your hand but Greg has added some extra security to my outfit this morning.”

Sharon just laughed and made fun of me settling so well into Kumarian life.

“So Greg,” explained the judge. “I’m told that my team were very impressed with your companies tagging system in the UK. We’re now going to build a proof of concept here in Kumar and we hope you’ll be able to install the software and set us up as soon as possible?”

“This shouldn’t be a problem your honour,” Sharon butted in. “Greg’s company shipped out fifty GPS collars at the end of last week and the VPN network is now prepared to load the software so we’re ready to go when Greg is.”

I smiled at this news.

“So your honour,” I closed this conversation. “With your authorisation, I’d like to start getting this show on the road!”

Aalia and I then followed Sharon through the corridors to a large room full of PC terminals and other females wearing court uniforms. Sharon then introduced Aalia and I to the entire team before we entered what was to become my office:

“Greg, there is something I need to tell you, explained Sharon. “Not all of these girls are happy to see you. We’re an all-female team in a unit that is dedicated to tagging Kumarian females for failing to veil. While at work, these girls normally do not have to veil all day but now that you’re here, they’ve been instructed to veil.”

“I can see how that might be a problem Sharon,” I replied. “I’m happy to make any arrangements whereby I give notice of leaving my office and allowing the girls to veil and unveil when necessary.”

“I’m not sure that will work,” whispered Sharon. “On another note, we all speak very good English so Aalia’s services will not be needed. I also believe she spent some time in our unit here and therefore the girls are not comfortable with her presence in this office.”

“That’s no problem Sharon,” replied Aalia. “I’m happy to head home and I’ll see Greg later.”

“I’m sure we can find somewhere for you to wait Aalia,” responded Sharon as she ushered my Burqa clad girlfriend from the office.

I then took a phone call from London before checking various computer server configurations, ahead of the software install.

“So what brought you to Kumar?” asked Sharon as she entered my new office.

“Aalia,” I replied.

“Yeah, I heard a story about you two meeting online and then you coming out here for a holiday and releasing her from our accommodation!” Sharon continued to dig.

“Something like that,” I replied. “So what brought you to Kumar? I struggle to see why an English girl would be prepared to come over here and veil?”

Sharon just laughed and told me about her German girlfriend (Nicole) coming out here to work for Kumar Airways and after a holiday herself, she accepted the strange practices and actually now enjoyed veiling and the security the Kumarian culture offered girls like her:

“So what have you done with Aalia,” I asked lifting my head from the large TFT-monitor?

“I left her in one of our rooms with some magazines Greg,” Sharon responded laughing. “It is clear she is unable to use her hands so I left her locked in the cell, I mean waiting room.”

“Oh well, that will keep her out of trouble!” I laughed in reply.

“Will she mind?” asked Sharon.

“Yes, I suppose she will give me hell when we get home,” I laughed. “She’ll therefore mind about as much as having her wrists locked in a leather belt!”

We both laughed and checked that my office in London had control of the servers in preparation for the software download.

“To be honest Sharon, there isn’t a lot more for me to do today,” I explained. “The techies in London have control now and will install the software. Why don’t I come back first thing and we can test the software and the collars?”

“That would be a great idea,” replied Sharon.

I then stood up and stopped.

“Have you got one of the collars I can borrow?” I asked. “I’d like to give Aalia something to do.”

Sharon just laughed and we headed out into the office. We explained our plans to another girl who laughed while she picked up a box with airmail marketing’s from London and handed Sharon and bright silver, stainless steel collar with a small box on the front.

“We can fit her with it now,” laughed Sharon.

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” I responded. “That would mean Aalia spending a day in her bodysuit!”

We both laughed again and on the way to pick up Aalia, Sharon told me that she thought that Aalia and I should arrange to meet her and Nicole sometime for a meal or a drink.

“Hello sweetheart, are you comfy,” I broke the silence as Sharon unlocked and opened the holding cell where a Burqa covered Aalia waited?

“Are we going home now,” asked Aalia as she stood-up. “And what is that?”

“Yes we are going home now,” I replied. “And this is a new collar for you to try tomorrow!”

Sharon just laughed as she led us back out to reception. The receptionist then handed me back my passport and explained that the judge had already filled it with a five-year visa with full rights to live and work if I wanted. I thanked both Sharon and the receptionists before being handed a building pass for tomorrow and we agreed a nine o’clock start in the morning.

“I don’t like Sharon,” were Aalia’s first words as we got out of her car back at the house. “She clearly fancies you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Aalia,” I grumbled in response heading for the kitchen and the kettle. “Sharon is happily shacked up with a flight attendant called Nicole so I don’t think I’ll ever be her type!”

“Nevertheless, they’re a weird bunch,” Aalia continued her rant.

Aalia continued to moan for most of the afternoon. It didn’t help that I refused to release her from her work uniform, which meant that she couldn’t eat or drink:

“Aalia,” I started to plot my revenge. “If I release your hands and allow you to get out of the bodysuit, will you stop nagging me?”

I should point out that Aalia was free of the Burqa but I enjoyed how she looked in the grey dress, corset and all-over body stocking that I’d left her still cuffed in the thick leather belt.

“Oh please Greg, I’d do anything to get out of this thing,” pleaded Aalia.

I then picked up the keys and started unlocking Aalia’s wrists:

“Aalia, I don’t know why you’re complaining, this looks really comfy,” I laughed as her hands came free from the belt.

“Well if you think it is so comfy, why don’t you try it dearest,” Aalia sarcastically replied.

“Over this suit, I don’t think so,” I smirked in reply as Aalia headed off to change out of her work gear.

I’d gone upstairs to change myself when Aalia entered the bedroom:

“Greg, here you go,” announced Aalia as she threw a pile of Lycra at me: “Go on put that on and you can see what I had to put up with today.”

“I’d be glad to!” I replied with attitude. “I know this will be really comfy!”

Aalia has throwing me a pile of thick Lycra, a Zentai suit for me to wear. It was black and covered my from head to toe in luxurious soft spandex.

“Hey what is in the hood,” I quizzed my devious girlfriend as I started to pull my head into the suit?”

“This is the nearest I can give you to what I had to wear today Greg,” responded Aalia. “You’re feeling the extra padding around the face and mouth and there is also extra padding around the ears. The idea is simple: If I’d added a gag and ear plugs to your head before you put on that suit, you would no longer hear anything once sealed into it.”

“I’m glad it has eye holes,” I laughed.

“Yes, but semi opaque eyes holes Greg,” laughed Aalia. “You’ll really struggle to see anything.”

“Ah, I see what you mean,” I responded as my head fitted snuggly into the built-in hood and the rear zipper was pulled up tight.

Aalia then approached holding a leather corset:

“If you’re going to experience exactly what I had to go through today, you’re going to be corseted,” explained Aalia.

“That’s no problem,” I replied, holding on to the heavy boned leather while Aalia starting the slow and painful lacing process.

I was doing my best to be smug while Aalia was doing her best to break my torso in two. She tugged and tugged onto I was about to pass out, even if I refused to show that I was in trouble here.

“I don’t have a grey business style dress for you to wear Greg,” explained Aalia. “I do however have this French maids uniform, which will look fantastic on you!”

Aalia was clearly enjoying herself as I allowed her to pull the heavy black satin dress over my head. Next came the thick leather belt and the cuffs, which now held my hands tightly by my sides.

“This isn’t so bad!” I teased.

“See how you feel in four or five hours,” grumbled Aalia. “Anyway, wait there, I’m off to fetch a Burqa!”

I knew I had bitten off more than I could chew this afternoon. I was not only covered head to toe in a thick Lycra Zentai suit but now my hands were held tightly at my side and my vision was now non-existent by the eye-mesh of the Zentai suit and the eye-mesh that covered the face of my Burqa. I was still not going to show Aalia that I was in any trouble at all so I followed her about the house, playing at being her maid as she cleaned around the house:

“Greg, would you go downstairs and watch some TV,” screamed Aalia who was clearly pissed off at me playing at being her lap-dog:

“But mistress,” I continued to play the game. “I’m here to interrupt for you and I can‘t do that unless I’m with you!”

Aalia just turned and laughed before taking hold of my Burqa clad arm:

“Your services are not needed Greg,” she explained. “Just like my services were not needed this morning, I’m going to take you somewhere to wait on me!”

I knew exactly where I was going as Aalia dragged me across the yard, passed the pool and into her stable block. The first cell was open so I was matched straight inside and the inner and outer doors slammed shut. This is where I spend the rest of the afternoon until Aalia came to check on me:

“Well are you still comfy?” she sarcastically asked.

“Actually this gear is really comfy thank you,” I laughed in response.
“I don’t believe you hissed Aalia as she stormed off, slamming the outer cell door closed behind her.

Again I waited for another hour or so until Aalia was back again:

“Right come-on you,” she demanded, pulling me to my feet and dragging back towards the house. “I suppose I’ve got to release you from that gear to enable you to eat?”

“I guess so,” I replied planting the pad over my face into her mouth as the Burqa came off:

“Umm, that is nice,” complemented Aalia as the wrist cuffs were unlocked. “You can now at least remove your hood but the rest stays on until bed time!”

We had an enjoyable meal even if my innards were being squeezed to death under the pressure of the corset. I didn’t complain once as we cleared away the plates and at one point, I even pulled the hood back over my head:

“Come here you sexy thing,” I called out, grabbing Aalia and dragging her towards the bedroom.

That’s how our evening ended, in bed and a session of love making. I did finally lose the maid’s uniform, corset, bondage belt and all-over Zentai suit. I must admit that the suit stayed on for most of the session as the crotch zip provided ample room for the required job!

The next morning, we were woken by the sound of the alarm on my iPhone:

“Is that the time already,” complained Aalia as I peeled myself from the bed:

“Yeap, it sure is,” I laughed in response, heading for the unsuite. “You don’t need to get up Aalia as I don’t require your services today!”

Aalia then rolled over to go back to sleep while I prepared myself for another day at my new work! As I left house I explained to Aalia that I would call her later and ask her to put on the GPS collar. She grunted something in response, which I ignored and then headed out to her BMW and the driver, waiting to take me into town. I easily entered the courthouse this morning using my pass and headed for the office but the door was locked:

“Ah good morning Greg,” welcomed Sharon who was wearing her official court uniform and veiled as yesterday. “The girls have arranged for you to have a separate office so they can remain unveiled.”

Sharon then led me down past some open and therefore empty cell block:

“We don’t use these cells anymore Greg,” explained Sharon. “You’re office is a little small but you’ll find it perfect for your needs!”

Sharon had just led me into an open cell that had its’ bunk removed and replaced with a desk and chair.

“I’m sure this will be very comfortable Sharon,” I laughed. “Right, I’m going to first test the software installs so I’ll call you later when I’m ready to test the system on some life collars.

Sharon gave me her extension number and was left in the open cell to test the software installation.

It was a little after eleven when a red Burqa entered my office (cell):

“I see you have you own office!” laughed the judge.

“Yes your honour, a promotion already!” I teased.

“Well as long as you’re comfortable Greg,” explained the judge. “Those girls are a little funny and I suppose it is my fault for not enforcing a veiling rule at the office but since they are an all-female team, I like to relax the rules.

“I can assure you your honour, I’m very happy down here as long as that door remains open!”

We both laughed and I continued with my work until lunchtime. I was therefore a little after one when I called Sharon:

“Hello Sharon speaking,” she answered the phone.

“Hello Sharon, it’s Greg,” I announced. “That’s the software ready to test but for some reason, I can only get a fix on the test collar that I think Nicole is wearing.”

“Ah did you lock it around Aalia’s neck this morning?” asked Sharon.

“No Sharon,” I replied. “I said that I’d call her when I was ready to test the GPS collar.

“That will be the reason, explained Sharon. “For the collar to start transmitting, it requires to be locked in place!”

Once I’d sorted that out, I called Aalia:

“Hi-ya sweetheart,” I opened the telephone conversation. “What are you wearing today?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aalia replied sarcastically.

“Actually yes,” I replied. “We need to test the collar so I need to you to place it around your neck.”

Aalia asked me to hold on while she fetched it. About twenty seconds later the system bleeped and I could see the collar was now reporting Aalia’s exact location.

“Right, that’s it on Greg,” explained Aalia who came back to the phone.

“I can see that sweetie,” I replied. “I can also see that you’re at home according to my computer screen.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Aalia continued her sarcasm. “Anyway Greg, how long have I got to wear this and how the fuck do I get it off?”

I then laughed down the phone:

“There is only one answer to both those questions honey,” I explained: “You can’t get the collar off until I get home with a key!”

“Oh fuck,” came the reply on the other end of the phone.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” I quizzed.

“Don’t you sweetheart me Greg,” grunted Aalia. “I felt like a little leather today and slipped into my favourite leather catsuit with built in high heels and a hood. If I can’t remove the collar, I can’t remove the catsuit!”

“Poor little Aalia,” I teased on the phone. “You are therefore stuck until I get home. Surely you can pull the hood down, I asked?”

“No Greg, that’s the other problem,” explained Aalia. “I’ve locked the zip and the padlock and two zipper ends are trapped below the collar, which I’ve obviously locked on far too tightly!”

I continued to laugh as Sharon (I think) entered my office (cell):

“Okay honey, see you later,” I laughed. “Don’t go too far because I’m watching!”

“What is so funny Greg,” asked Sharon.

“Oh just Aalia,” I continued to laugh. “She was feeling a little kinky this morning and is wearing an all-encompassing leather catsuit, which she now can’t remove due to the steel collar.”

Sharon and I then began laughing as we headed towards the canteen and lunch.

“Can I let you into a secret Greg?” asked Sharon on the way up in the elevator.

“Of course you can Sharon,” I replied.

“Nicole is in a worse state right now,” Sharon opened her heart. “She is right now locked in a cage at home, wearing nothing but the collar and a sleeping Burqa.

“What’s a sleeping Burqa,” I asked as we reached the top floor.

“It’s a type of sleeping bag,” Sharon continued. “Well a sleeping bag with a built-in hood with only a mesh to enable limited vision. The bag is zipped at the feet and I’ve padlocked the bag shut so there is no way for Nicole to get out, never mind the fact she is also locked in a cage.”

“It sounds like you two are even more kinky than Aalia and I I laughed as we chose our lunch from the counter.

Sharon and I did however continue our conversation through lunch. It was still weird watching how she ate from behind the veil that fell from her face:

“I’ve no idea why you would chose to come here and be forced to veil Sharon,” I continued getting to know this mysterious girl?

“Like you said before Greg,” explained Sharon. “I am kinky and love to wear masks at home as part of my kinky life with Nicole. This way I get to wear masks all the time and in public!”

“I see,” I replied. “I know how erotic that is, myself.”

Oh shit, I’ve opened Pandora’s Box now!!!

“So you know what it is actually like to veil in public Greg,” quizzed Sharon.

I then had no option but to tell her about the various times that I’d gone outside in Kumar, dressed as a girl and wearing a Burqa.

“Fuck me, you and Aalia are even kinkier than Nicole and I,” replied Sharon.

Anyway, it was time to head back to my cell (I mean office) and check on the testing process.

“I hear we’re ready to move to the next stage of the proof of Concept,” I heard the judge open the conversation, entering my office!

“We sure are your honour,“ I smiled in response, knowing that this project was going my way.

“Yes we are your honour, explained Sharon as she entered my office behind the judge.

The judge then explained what she wanted:

“Greg I’d like and you and Sharon to head south tomorrow. I’ve arranged for you both to have access to our small courthouse in the fishing port of Amrac,” explained the judge.

Sharon and I then asked some questions around the proof of concept and what the success factors would look like. That done, Sharon and I were to prepare two laptops and twenty collars to travel with us tomorrow until this time next week.

“Sharon, before I forget, can I have a collar key to release Aalia?” I asked.

“Sorry Greg,” explained Sharon. “As a contractor, you will not be allowed a key but if you bring Aalia over to my place after six, I’ll unlock the collar myself.”

That all agreed, I headed home to Aalia who by now was in a really bad mood:

“Where’s the fucking key to this contraction,” she screamed at me, pointing at the shiny steel collar encircling her entire neck.

“Darling, that is no way to greet your man,” I grunted in reply. “I don’t have to key as I’m not allowed to as a contractor of the court and not a fulltime employee. As soon as I get changed, I’m going to take you over to Sharon’s and Nicole’s apartment, where you’ll be released from the collar right away.”

“I’m not going to their apartment,” screamed Aalia in response. “I’m not going near those two dykes!”

“Well if that is the way you feel Aalia, I hope you like that outfit because I’m heading to Amrac tomorrow for a few days so you‘ll be stuck in it!” I laughed.

That really sent Aalia over the edge. In the end we arrived at Sharon and Nicole’s place at a little after six-thirty. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, while Aalia was covered head-to-toe in the all-encompassing black satin Burqa (not forgetting the leather catsuit below):

“Hello, you must be Greg and Aalia,” came the German voice, hidden behind a bright yellow Burqa. “Please come in, Sharon is expecting you.

“Ah welcome,” came the familiar voice but not so familiar looking.

Sharon was not veiled or covered in any way! She was wearing a short floral print summer dress, with her long blond hair waving down to well below her shoulders.

“What’s wrong Greg?” Sharon asked.

“You are the first female (other than Aalia of course) that I’ve seen without a veil, since coming to Kumar,” I acted surprised.

Aalia then thumped me in the ribs:

“What’s wrong honey?” I asked.

Sharon then laughed:

“When at home and with friends, I see no reason to be veiled,” explained Sharon. “You’re also not a Kumarian man and I’m not a Kumarian woman so according the law of Kumar, I do not need to veil in your company while not in public!”

“Seems reasonable,” I replied, “but what about Nicole?”

“Ah, don’t worry about Nicole, she veils 24/7 these days so we don’t expect anything less from her,” laughed Sharon. “Anyway, you’re here to have your collar removed Aalia!”

Aalia then began removing her heavy black satin Burka:

“Umm, I love your outfit,” explained Nicole. “Can I touch the leather?”

Aalia agreed and Nicole coo’d as she rubbed her hands all over Aalia’s leather clad body:

“Here Nicole, you unlock Aalia’s collar,” demanded Sharon as she handed Nicole the special electronic key.”

Some the collar was free from Aalia leather covered neck:

“Would you like a coffee?” asked Nicole.

I agreed and sat down opposite this very beautiful blonde (Sharon).

“Would you like a coffee Miss,” Nicole turned towards Aalia:

“I’d love one, responded Aalia as she sat down beside me and placed her leather clad hand on my knee, showing Sharon that I was hers.

“Oh shit,” Aalia suddenly piped up! “I can’t have a coffee! I forget to bring the keys for this suit and as it’s locked on, it isn’t coming off!”

We all laughed as Sharon, Nicole and I enjoyed a cup of coffee. As Aalia and I headed home for the evening, Nicole asked if we’d come round again soon and finally Sharon reminded me that an official car would pick me up around eight tomorrow morning for the trip south.

 

A Side trip in Kumar:

“Do you have to go?” asked a sleepy Aalia in an automatic reaction to my alarm going off.

“Do you want my company to win this contract,” I replied. “Or would you prefer that I just go back to England?”

“Surely Sharon can do the training in Amrac and you could control things back at HQ,” Aalia continued to complain.

I ignored her this time and got up. After pulling on my suit, I was ready for the day ahead so after a light breakfast, I kissed Aalia goodbye and headed out to meet Sharon in the white Mercedes S-Class:

“Good morning sir,” introduced the driver. “Miss is in the back and if you join her, I’ll put your bags in the truck!”

I thanked the driver and climbed into the back of the Mercedes:

“Good morning Sharon,” I opened the conversation, staring at the shrouded black figure sitting in the back seat. “I assume you are Sharon, behind that tent?”

Sharon just laughed:

“Who did you think it would be?” she teased. “Don’t worry I’m wearing my court uniform below this tent as you called it!”

We both settle dinto the two-hour drive south on good roads to Amrac in the south. As we approached the outskirts, Sharon started to explain what would happen when we got there:

“Greg, I doubt the female court officials will be glad to see you. They’re a weird bunch, just like the girls back in Kumar City but this bunch go that little bit further.”

“I’ll just have to win them over Sharon,” I tried to lighten the conversation as we pulled up outside the Amrac court house.

We then entered the courthouse and showed our passes to the receptionist who asked us to wait. The driver would be taking our bags straight to the hotel but Sharon and I would spend today, preparing the proof of concept. It was then a female court official, wearing the same uniform as the girls back in the Kumar court came out and whispered to Sharon.

“Greg, as I expected, the all-female staff are not happy that you are here,” explained Sharon. “If you can wait here, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Sharon then headed off with the female court official, who I thought was extremely rood whispering in my company. I only had to wait ten minutes until another court official arrived:

“Good morning Sir, my name in Rama,” explained the veiled girl with a district Indian accent. “I’ve no idea why the others refuse to work with a man but as I’m not from Kumar, I’d be delighted to work with you to see this project a success.”

“Well thank you Rama,” I replied as I followed Rama past the reception desk. “You can call me Greg.”

Rama led me to a rather large and luxurious office:

“This office belongs to one of our most senior judges Greg,” explained Rama. “She is on holiday right now so you may use her office. I’ll be working right outside so if you need anything, please press the call-button on the phone.”

And so I settled into another days work preparing the software for the first victim. It was a little before lunch when Sharon called me to explain that she was about to fit a collar to the first girl to be given bail this morning:

“I’ve already logged her details into the system Greg,” Sharon confidently reported. “Can you just check them and make sure the collar is registered as soon as it’s locked around her neck?”

I agreed and by three o’clock, Sharon had fitted ten collars to girls given bale to return to court for one reason or another. It was therefore a surprise when Sharon then arrived in my office:

“That’s us Greg,” she enthusiastically reported the end of another working day. “Time to go to the hotel, our driver is waiting.”

As we checked into our hotel, it was clear that Sharon and I had joining rooms. This was evident when Sharon quickly appeared in my room as I was removing my shirt:

“Do you never knock,” I teased, turning to face Sharon who was now out of her Burqa and simply wearing the court uniform.

Sharon just laughed and made some smutty comment about my six-pack or lack of it in my case!

“So are you allowed unveil in a colleague’s hotel room,” I smiled, approaching the veiled English girl in a court uniform.

“I think so,” replied Sharon as she lifted the Niqab from her head, revealing a black Lycra hood below:

“I always wondered what you wore below the veil,” I teased. “It really suits you!”

Sharon‘s head was covered in a tight Lycra hood. She had an open mouth but her two eyes were covered in a thin mesh:

“You try having to wear it!” Sharon complained, unzipping and throwing the now empty hood at me.

I caught the Lycra hood and held it to my face:

“Go on Greg, try it on!” Sharon continued to push.

I accepted her offer and slipped the tight Lycra over my head and pulled down the rear zip.

“Here Greg, add this,” Sharon laughed as she approached and pulled the official court veil over my head.

“It’s not that bad,” I teased from behind the official working veil! “Anyway, you told me last week that enjoyed masking in public so this should be easy for you!”

“It suits you Greg,” laughed Sharon. “Hey maybe I could get you a court uniform and then the girls would have to work with you!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Now my closest colleague and not just my girlfriend wanted me to cross-dress and be forced to veil in Kumar.

“Yeah, and you can call me Gina!” I replied sarcastically.

“Actually that might just work Greg, sorry Gina,” laughed Sharon.

“No fucking way,” I grunted as I pulled the veil from my head, followed by the Lycra hood:

“Greg, leave them on, the mask and veil really do suit you,” teased Sharon.

I just stared back at my blonde colleague and suggested we prepare for dinner.

“Can we just order room service Greg,” pleaded Sharon? That means that I don’t have to veil again tonight? “It is also so much easier to eat when I’m not fighting a Niqab!”

We agreed and the food came in less than 30 minutes. A male steward delivered the trolley to my room, while Sharon hid in her room until he was gone. We then sat down and enjoyed our meal that first evening in the hotel. Sharon and I were back at the courthouse the next day when we hit our first challenge:

“Greg, could you please come down to the cells?” asked Sharon from the other end of the telephone line.

“Will the others not mind?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about them Greg,” Sharon replied. This is a serious problem, which will cause the project some delays!”

When I arrived in the cell block, I found Rama and Sharon struggling with a female prisoner:

“What up girls?” I asked.

“This prisoner has also been sentenced to wear the mask of shame,” explained Sharon. “The problem is the collar doesn’t fit.”

“Here let me try,” I suggested but the girls were right, the steel GPS collar simply would not fit over the neck of the hideous plastic hood. “Okay it isn’t going to fit but the Kumarian court requirements stated a certain diameter,” I continued. “It is clear that we need a second collar to fit the mask of shame or even better, we create a new mask of shame with a belt in GPS.”

The poor girl who was being forced into the mask of shame was obviously gagged as well. She MUMPTHED in discomfort as Rama and Sharon fought to get the steel collar around her neck:

“I’m afraid it is back to the cells for you girl,” laughed Sharon as the poor victim was led away.

Back at my office I set-up a conference call with my office in London. This included Sharon who came to my office for the call and the judge who was in her office in the Kumarian HQ courthouse:

“I’m so sorry your honour, we didn’t expect this problem,” I explained.

“It’s no problem Greg,” replied the judge. “We gave your company the measurements and we didn’t think to include a collar large enough to fit the mask of shame.”

My boss back in London agreed to have ten larger collars moulded tonight and shipped to Kumar on the first flight in the morning. Sharon and I would therefore have them by early evening.

“That should solve the immediate problem,” I tried to upsell. “I’m also sure we could also mould a new mask of shame, which could include a GPS transmitter.”

“I think that is a great idea,” explained the judge. “These old plastic masks are a little old fashioned and require to be thrown away far too often. Some new steel masks would really suit our requirements better.”

I agreed to discuss some ideas with my office and we would have some sample masks shipped out within a week or two. We also agreed to therefore extend the proof of concept to include a limited study at the Kumar City Court. This was good news for my company, because these proof-of-concepts were all paid for and the more the Kumarian government bought into the project, the more likely they would be to award us the full contract and therefore the better chance I had to spend more time in Kumar.

By the evening of day two in Amrac and just before Sharon and I were supposed to head back to the hotel, reception called to say that a large package had arrived. Back in the office, Sharon and I took delivery of five new larger steel collars:

“I suppose we will have to wait until tomorrow morning to try these out for size Sharon,” I quizzed, not expecting any staff would be around to fit one of the new collars to a staff member.

“Not sure Greg,” replied Sharon. “Let’s take one down to the cells and find out!”

It was as expected; the cell area was empty and all the staff had all gone home and all the prisoners had been moved back to the jail for the evening.

“Nothing more we can do tonight,” I commented.

“Well we could still try it out Greg,” responded Sharon.

“I suppose I could get you into a mask of shame Sharon and try the collar out,” I teased.

“You don’t know how to work the equipment Greg,” laughed Sharon, “but I do,” she continued. “How about I put a mask of shame on you and we try out the collar?”

I couldn’t believe what Sharon was suggesting but I was also intrigued about what it would be like to wear the mask of shame.

“Come on Greg, it would only be for a few minutes, while we test the new collars,” Sharon continued to plead.

“Okay Sharon, let’s get this over with,” I grunted.

I followed Sharon to another area of the day-cell (court) area. Sharon then opened a cupboard and lifted out a front and back of the hideous black plastic masks. She also picked up a ‘U’ shaped tool and plugged it into the electrical socket:

“Okay Greg, if you hold this front piece over you face, I’ll hold the back piece and as soon as I slip over the adhesive tool, it will be sealed in seconds,” explained Sharon.

It was then I noticed this front piece of the mask had a large penis gag inside:

“Can I not have one without a gag!” I complained.

“Stop moaning,” Sharon responded, holding the back and the ‘U’ shaped heating mechanism. “This will make our experiment more exciting!”

With those words, I held the mask up to my face and opened my mouth to accept the penis gag. Sharon then pushed home the rear section and started the process of heating the mask and therefore bonding the two halves together.

“Right that’s now done,” explained Sharon. “Now let’s lock the collar around the neck of the mask!”

I MUMPTHED a response telling Sharon to go-a-head while taking hold of the mask of shame now locked around my head and giving it a good tug.

“There is no use pulling at it Greg, it isn’t coming off,” laughed Sharon as she fitted the collar and pushed home the lock.

I MUMPHED a response again while Sharon explained we should go and check a terminal to ensure the GPS transmitter was working. I guessed this was a ploy to keep me locked in the mask of shame for as long as possible. Anyway, while I wasn’t happy having to wear this hideous black plastic mask, it was sealed around my head until Sharon removed it. Five minutes later, we were back in the test office and ensuring the collar was transmitting my location:

“Well that all work’s,” explained Sharon.”

Again all I could do was MUMPTH into the gag of the mask of shame. It was then my mobile phone rang and I could see it was Aalia from the caller-ID. I was about to abort the call when Sharon grabbed the phone, and answered it on speaker mode:

“Hi Aalia, its Sharon,” she answered the phone.

“Hi Sharon, is Greg there?” replied Aalia.

“He is Aalia but he can’t talk right now,” laughed Sharon as I started MUMPTHING my complaints:

“We’re testing the new collar on a mask of shame at the moment,” Sharon continued to tell Aalia. “Greg is my test subject so he can’t talk right now!”

“You mean Greg has a mask of shame locked on his head Sharon?” Aalia continued to ask Sharon questions.

“He sure has Aalia and it really suits him,” laughed Sharon in response.

There was then a pause on the end of the phone:

“I wish I was there to see that,” laughed Aalia. “You should leave it on him Sharon! I was forced to wear one for two weeks so I think Greg would benefit from some little first-hand experience!”

“I’m not sure I’d get away with that Aalia,” laughed Sharon. “I think he has a good idea right now what it is like. I’ll ask him to call you back when his mouth so full.”

Both girls laughed and the call ended.

“Right Greg,” explained Sharon. “Let’s get you back down and the mask removed.”

I therefore followed Sharon back down to the court cells and we entered the same room, where the mask was fitted. It was then Sharon admitted that she’d forgotten the key to the collar so she had to go back to the office:

“Stay there Greg,” instructed Sharon. “I’ll be back in five minutes!”

While Sharon was gone, I had a chance to look around this Kumarian government facility. Normally a hive of activity during the day, the downstairs cell area was now deserted. The room that I currently waited for Sharon was clearly the preparation area, where Kumarian ladies who refused to follow the laws according to Kumar and wouldn’t veil while in public were prepared for their sentence. This meant the large room had shelves along one wall, with an array of black plastic masks, just like I wore right now. On another shelf was shrink wrapped plastic bags with orange Burqa’s awaiting as the veil of choice in the government facility. It was at the bottom of those shelves that I found an open package with a bright orange prison uniform hanging out. I couldn’t resist it; I had to try it out! Lifting the bright orange suit from the shelf, I pulled the thick nylon material over my masked head and smoothed out the rest of the all-encompassing dress. I’d worn plenty of Burqa’s before now so this was no different than the others as I stared out from behind a mesh panel in front of my eyes. My opportunity to surprise Sharon was now a plan, a plan was about to cause me a great deal of pain.

I decided to head across the corridor and scare Sharon as she came back to where I was supposed to be. This plan meant I exited the room and headed across to the room on the other side of the corridor, an empty cell to be precise. The heavy steel cell door opened out so I pulled over the door as much as I could, because I didn’t want it lock myself inside. I realise now that this prank was really stupid because within five minutes a guard returned to the room across from me, to be scared shitless by me practically jumping her. What happened next was a daze as the guards lightning fast reaction with some Arabic shouting caused me to collapse in a heap as the full force of a tazor was released on me. That is all I remember until I heard Sharon’s voice and slaps on the face:

“You stupid, stupid fucker Greg!” she repeated over and over again.

There wasn’t a lot I could say as my mouth was still packed by the large gag, built into the mask of shame. I tried to move my arms to sit up and it was then I realised that they wouldn’t move. Both wrists were locked together in a pair of hinged handcuffs:

“Don’t try and move Greg,” demanded Sharon. “You’ve been tazored and you’ve probably worked out that you’ve been handcuffed. I’m now locked in this cell with you because the guard is away to fetch a senior officer before they decide what to do with you!”

That got my attention and I tried hard to sit upright, not an easy task with my arms pinned behind my back. I then stared at Sharon, who was still hidden behind her veil and mask. I was also still wearing the Burqa, which I tried to shake off with no success:

“No point trying to get out of that Burqa Greg,” explained Sharon. “You’ll by now have noticed that the hood part is elastic all over. What that means that you’ll be unable to remove it without the use of your hands.”

Sharon then began to laugh:

“Don’t think I’m removing the Burqa for you,” Sharon continued to laugh.

It was then a senior prison officer arrived at the cell, unlocking and opening the door. She clearly spoke excellent English:

“So what have we here,” she asked Sharon.

“I’m very sorry ma’am,” Sharon began to explain us both out of this situation. “We’ve been testing the new GPS collar and because Greg didn’t know how to use the bonding tool, he very kindly agreed to test the mask of shame. I forgot the key to the collar so I had to go back to my office to get it so that I could free him.”

You could have heard a pin drop in that cell as the senior prison officer thought about what Sharon was telling her:

“I’m not sure Miss,” she explained. “I need to talk to a judge so he’ll have to wait here until I get through to her.”

“Can we at least remove the cuffs and Burqa?” asked Sharon.

The female officer thought about her response again:

“I don’t think so,” she finally replied. “You can stay here with him if you want but this man will wait in this cell until I’m told what to do by the judge.”

“Right,” Sharon got serious. “This is ridiculous! I’m going to call the judge back in Kumar City!”

Sharon got up and stormed off, leaving me and the prison officer in the cell. There was still no way that I could communicate so she also left the cell, locking the door behind her. I had no choice but to sit on the wooden bench and wait for someone to return and release me! This was going to be one of the longest hours of my life! At one point I got up and paced the tiny holding cell, willing for someone to return and let me out. How stupid was I? Why did I pull on this stupid Burqa? All of these questions simply got me more frustrated.

At one point, I heard Sharon’s English voice from the other side of the door:

“Greg, I’ll be with you in five minutes,” she called from the other side of the cold steel door.

Again with no way for me to communicate, I was left standing in front of the locked door, on the wrong side of course! I hadn’t long to wait until Sharon was back and the sound of the key being turned in the lock, flowed by the CLICKING sound of the mechanism releasing the closed door:

“Come on Greg, hurry up,” demanded Sharon as I left the cell. “No time to wait so I’m getting us out of here!”

But where was Sharon taking me? I was still shrouded in the bright orange Burqa and handcuffed, not forgetting the mask of shame that was sealed around my head. Without arguing, I followed Sharon out of the back of the court house and into the waiting car. I still wanted to know where I was going and what was actually happening but protocol in Kumar meant a silent ride in the back of the Mercedes. Who was I kidding, I couldn’t talk anyway! We clearly were not heading back to the hotel and soon we pulled up outside a typical Middle Eastern house, with high walls protecting a modest interior. As Sharon knocked on the heavy door, a lady clad in a black Burka answered the door with a Kumarian accent, speaking broken English:

“You must be Sharon,” she ushered us inside. “And you must be Greg.”

I nodded in reply as I followed Sharon and the other Burqa covered lady inside this typically large Kumarian house. We then stopped and Sharon turned to face me:

“Greg, I spoke to the judge in Kumar City and she suggested we get the hell out of the court and come here,” Sharon explained. “This lady will help remove your mask of shame.”

Again I nodded in response as Sharon started lifting the orange Burqa off my head.

“Follow me, please,” announced the black shrouded lady.

We entered a workshop where I saw the all-important U-Shaped tool that should release my head from the mask of shame. First of all Sharon unlocked and removed the GPS steel collar. The other lady then placed the U-Shaped tool over my mask and instructed me to stay still as the heat built up around the seal on the mask, hopefully, releasing the two halves. Of course I couldn’t lift my hands to my head because I still had my wrist locked in the hinged handcuffs:

“Just a few minute more Greg, I promise,” reassured the lady. “I’ll then see if I have a key for those cuffs.”

Thank goodness I would soon be free, or so I hoped. I then heard a faint click and the U-happed tool was lifted from my head, followed by the rear half of the mask:

“There you go Greg,” she commented as the front section was pulled from my face, including the massive gag that had filled my mouth for the last few hours.

“Thank you so much,” I said. “Thank you; I really do appreciate your help.

The black Burqa clad lady told me it was no problem but she would see if she had keys for my handcuffs:

“You’re very lucky Greg,” explained Sharon. “The guards in the court were preparing to have you locked up for the night in the female prison.”

“They couldn’t do that!” I replied.

“They could do what they wanted to you Greg,” Sharon laughed. “I’m not sure we should go back to work there tomorrow so I’ll have to check in at HQ before we leave for work first thing.”

It was then the lady in the black Burqa arrived back:

“Here we go Greg,” she said as I was instructed to turn around but soon my hands were free of the hinged cuffs. “You’ll need to take these back to the court in the morning as they belong to the State.”

Sharon then thanked the lady and we were on our way back to the hotel for the rest of the night. Aalia laughed so much when I told her the story of our night but tomorrow was Thursday and we were due to travel back to Kumar City tomorrow evening and a long weekend. Aalia told me that she was looking forward to seeing me on Thursday night and we talked about what we’d do during the weekend, which included a holiday Monday. The next morning, Sharon appeared in my room, free of the mask and veil:

“Good morning Greg,” she said as she came through the adjoining door. “I’ve spoken to HQ and the judge has told us that we should back to the court and finish the project, where no harm would come to us.”

“That’s great Sharon,” I responded as I got ready for my last day in this dump of a depressing town.

That Thursday was nothing special. We fitted the new modified and larger GPS collar to a few unfortunate girls who would be spending the weekend wearing the mask of shame. Sharon completed the training of the local guards and police, while I completed the programming of the computer system. At around 4PM, I was just finished packing up when Sharon appeared in my office, followed by two guards, clearly holding her with her hands behind her back:

“Greg, I’ve been arrested for freeing you last night,” explained a clearly upset and crying Sharon.

“What!” I replied.

“Sir you are under arrest,” came those shocking words from the other guard, holding a pair of hinged handcuffs in her hand. “Please turn around and place your hands behind your back!”

I stood in shock from what I was hearing:

“What am I under arrest for!” I demanded in a serious tone, refusing the turn around and be restrained.

“Please sir turn around and place your hands behind your back,” the guard started raising her voice! “You’re under arrest for escaping from this facility last night and stealing court equipment!”

Still in shock I allowed the guard to handcuff me and escort Sharon and I to the court room above. We were led to the dock and a full court. The dock was a small area with three seats behind bars. The judge, a lady wearing the typical red Burqa read out our charges. I was being charged with escaping custody last night and stealing court equipment, namely the mask of shame, handcuffs and orange Burqa:

“How do you plead?” she called out.

I stood in horror of this situation:

“Not guilty!” I replied.

The judge then turned to Sharon and ready out two charges: (1) helping me to escape last night and (2) stealing the same court equipment.

“How do you plead?” she called out.

“Not guilty,” replied Sharon without hesitation.

The judge then spoke to the court officials (all female) before turning towards Sharon and I:

“Sharon did you not escort this man from a court cell last night and take him to a facility outside the control of this court to be freed from the mask of shame and handcuffs?” asked the judge.

Sharon then started a long a precluded response to the judge, trying to set the scene and the justifiable reasons for her actions before the judge cut her off:

“A YES or NO answer is all I require!” demanded the judge.

“Yes I did leave this court last night with Greg,” your honour.

The judge then turned to me:

“Greg did you willingly leave this court last night with Sharon while handcuffed and secured in the mask of shame?” asked the judge.

“Yes you honour but with justifiable reasons,” I replied.

The court went quiet again before the judge spoke:

“Then you both left this court facility, without permission and with court equipment,” responded the judge so you must be guilty!”

“But your honour,” replied Sharon. “We work for the court so we have permission to come and go as Court employees. Greg also had no say over the removal of the court equipment because the mask of shame was sealed on his head and his arms were locked behind his back by the handcuffs, not to mention his inability to then remove the prison Burqa!”

Again the judge whispered to her court officials:

“I’ve heard enough,” she hollered! “Can the defendants please stand up?”

Sharon and I looked at each other. Our hands still cuffed behind our backs before rising to our feet and turning towards the judge:

“Sharon, you have accepted that you led this man from court custody last night,” the judge began to sum up. “Greg you have also accepted that you willingly left his court facility last night by this woman. Granted you had no say over the court equipment but never-the-less, you were locked in a cell by one of my guards and there you should have stayed. I therefore have no option to find you both guilty; have you anything to say?”

Without waiting for me, Sharon jumped straight in:

“Your honour!” Sharon let rip. “Greg and I have been testing a new court computer system for this past week. Last night I had no option but to use Greg as a willing prisoner to test the new GPS collar. As a result we might have taken this proof of concept a little too far but we’re not guilty of breaking any court rules so this court is ridiculous and I therefore demand that I speak to the senior judge in Kumar City!”

The judge then looked at me:

“I’ve nothing more to add your honour,” I spoke up. “Sharon has put our case to you extremely well!”

“Very well,” replied the judge. “There might have been some misunderstanding last night but never-the-less Sharon, the senior officer on duty locked Greg in a cell that you unlocked to let him go, without permission. For that I’m going to sentence you to spend this holiday weekend as a guest of this female prison. Greg you seemed far too keen to try out court equipment last night and not only willingly left your cell with Sharon but taking court equipment with you. I therefore have no option but to sentence you to three days also. I should be transferring you to a male facility but after discussing this case with my staff, we all feel that you should also spend this weekend in this facility. Guards take them down!”

“This is fucking ridiculous!” screamed Sharon.

The judge then demanded us to stop:

“For that outburst young lady, you can spend your three days gagged in the mask of shame,” the judged yelled!

Sharon and I were then dragged down the stairs from the dock and very quickly locked into the same holding cell, still handcuffed:

“What the fuck is going on here Sharon?” I demanded.

“I’ve no idea Greg,” replied Sharon. “This is ridiculous! They owe us at least one telephone call so I’m going to call the judge back in HQ!”

We then had no option but to wait in that cell, still handcuffed until we were taken to the interconnected all female prison to serve our three-day sentence.

An unexpected weekend in jail

Time passes very slowly when anxiety takes hold of your life! Not more than an hour ago, Sharon and I were preparing to head home for a long weekend after four days in Amrac, a strict Muslim town in the south of Kumar, where the laws of Kumar took a whole level under strictest Purdah. In the last hour, Sharon and I had been arrested and sentenced to three days in prison. Both of us have been remanded in the court jail, awaiting transport to the adjoined female prison but before this would happen, Sharon knew that she’d soon be forced to wear to mask of shame and therefore a gag for her sentence. I was on the other hand lucky, I had reluctantly accepted my fate and avoided the mask of shame that was part of the reason Sharon and I were now in this mess! We had been sitting on the hard wooden bench, locked within the court cell when finally the senior guard that arrested us, unlocked and entered the cell:

“Sharon, can you please follow me?” she politely demanded.

Sharon got up and without even saying goodbye; she let the cell, which was locked behind her, leaving me to ponder what was now happening to my colleague. Ten minutes later, Sharon returned wearing the familiar orange prison Burqa and clearly having had a mask of shame locked onto her head.

“Greg, would you please follow me?” requested the senior guard in perfect English.

As I exited the cell, I was told to stand still, while the heavy door was locked again and Sharon safely inside. I was then directed across the corridor to where the mask’s of shame would be installed on their victim:

“Surely you are not going to put a mask on me?” I started to panic after a tester yesterday afternoon. “I accept that I sentenced to spend three days in your custody but I was not sentenced to three days in the mask of shame!”

“Hold on,” grumbled the court official as she picked up the phone and spoke to someone in Arabic.

The phone call went on for a few minutes while I waited in anticipation of at least avoiding the plastic mask for a weekend.
As the officer hung up, she turned to face me:

“You are 100% correct Greg, you haven’t been sentenced to the mask of shame,” she explained. “You do however have an opportunity to make one phone call before I take you up to the prison. I’ll dial any number you want but I’ll need to hold the phone to your ear because you’re not getting out of those handcuffs!”

I asked the guard to call Aalia, which she did and held the phone to my ear:

“Aalia, I have to be brief so please listen and don’t interrupt,” I requested as I heard her gorgeous voice on the other end of the phone. ”Sharon and I were arrested this afternoon for leaving the court cells last night. We’ve already been to court and as a result, we’ve been sentenced to three days jail time!”

“Oh shit,” I heard Aalia’s immediate response. “So I suppose that means I’ll not be seeing you this weekend?”

“No,” I replied. “It would be nice if you at least visited me?”

The guard then demanded that I hang up:

“Honey, that’s my three minutes up,” I explained to Aalia. “I need to go.”

At that point, the guard put her gloved fingers on the receiver and the line went dead:

“Okay follow me!” she demanded.

I was led back to Sharon’s cell and told to wait while Sharon was removed (silent) from the cell. We were then instructed to follow the single guard, which we did:

“Are you okay Sharon?” I enquired as we walked slowly behind the court official.

Sharon mumbled a response from behind the orange Burqa and nodded her head:

“Shut up Greg or you’ll be gagged,” yelled the guard.

We stopped at a large steel door. The female court official pushed a buzzer and the door electronically slid open and we were led into a sort of airlock. As the first door closed with a CLUNK, the inner door slid open and we followed the guard into a reception area:

“Ah-ha, we’ve been waiting on you two,” laughed another female, wearing the now familiar official uniform of a dark blue trouser suit, Niqab and Lycra mask below.

Along one wall were empty holding pods with Perspex doors, allowing a clear view from the large reception desk:

“Put her in pod one and him in pod two!” demanded the receptionist.

The court officer then led Sharon to the first Perspex door, turned the handle and opened the door before shoving Sharon inside, slamming the door closed. It was my turn to go inside the next empty pod and soon I was staring at a mirrored image of me sitting on a wooden bench wearing my orange prison Burqa. The Perspex was clear on the outside but mirrored on the inside so the receptionists could see in but I couldn’t see out. At one point I thought I heard Sharon’s pod open and close but I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t long to wait until it was my turn:

“You must be Greg?” asked the female behind the official uniform.

“Yes Ma’am,” I replied.

“My name is Shireen and I will be your personal prison officer this weekend,” the official explained from behind the familiar mask. “As you can imagine we don’t get many male prisoners in here so I’m afraid this is going to be difficult for us both.”

“I understand,” I replied. “I just want to do what is needed to see this three-day sentence through.”

“That’s good,” replied Shireen. “Can you please follow me?”

I got up, which wasn’t easy with my hands still handcuffed but without a complaint, I followed Shireen out of my pod. As we turned right, I could see Sharon’s pod was empty:

“Has Sharon gone far?” I asked.

Shireen then stopped and turned towards me:

“We do not talk about other prisoners in this facility Greg so you must forget about Sharon until your release on Tuesday!”

“Hold on,” I started to complain. “I was given a three-day sentence. Today is Thursday so three days takes me to Sunday!”

“We don’t release prisoners on weekends of public holidays Greg so I’m afraid you’ll be here a little bit longer than originally sentenced,” explained Shireen.

“That’s not fair,” I replied as we turned into a small room.

“I don’t think you’re going to get a say in what’s fair Greg,” laughed Shireen. “I need you to change behind that curtain and put on the prison uniform that has been laid out.”

I then turned to face Shireen:

“I’d love to cooperate Shireen but I’m a little tied-up here,” I tried to add a little humour to the situation showing Shireen my cuffed hands.

Shireen then laughed:

“I’m glad you’re entering this situation with the right spirit,” explained Shireen as she spun me around and unlocked my wrists.

I then slipped behind the curtain and started to remove my cloths. It was then I realised that that had left me a female prison uniform:

“Hey Shireen,” I called from behind the curtain. “This is a female prison uniform!”

“What did you expect Greg,” laughed Shireen from the other side of the white plastic curtain. “This is a female prison and anyway, I heard you like wearing a Burqa so you’ll be right at home in here this weekend!”

What choice did I have so I started the process of dressing? First I pulled on a pair for rather large black stretchy pants, followed by a sort of sports bra made of the same stretchy material. It felt hideous having to dress in this but again, what choice did I have? Next came a bright red Zentai suit with built in mask, feet and gloves. I pulled the suit on, which was clearly a few sized too small but again I didn’t complain and slipped my head into the hood, with two mesh eye coverings and an open mouth so at least I could eat.

“Are you nearly done?” called Shireen.

“All done!” I called, pulling back the curtain.

“If you place your personal belongings in this box, we’ll get them catalogued and they’ll be safe until your release,” asked Shireen as she handed me a plastic box and picked up a clipboard to record my personal effects. “By the way, I can no longer tell that you’re a guy under that suit!”

“Yeah all I need is some balloon’s and I could have given myself a nice pair of tit’s,” I sarcastically replied.

Shireen continued to record all my cloths, watch, mobile phone and wallet, including its’ contents before declaring us done:

“Right turn around so I can cuff you?” demanded Shireen as she picked up the hinged handcuffs.

I did as I was told and soon my wrists were secured (tightly) in the handcuffs. Shireen then picked up another package from the many shelves and opened out a bright orange prison Burqa:

“I believe you’re already acquainted with this?” teased Shireen as she pulled the polyester material over my head and flattened out the Burqa.

“You’re enjoying this Shireen!” I tried to make light of the situation.

I was then led back out into the corridor and through several more electronic doors before I arrived in a small cell block with eight closed cell doors, four on either side:

“This is our special unit,” explained Shireen. “I think this is the best place to house you away from the female prison population. Sharon is next door, not that you’ll be seeing her this weekend except for recreation time!”

Shireen then looked up at the CCTV and called out number D-2 and the far right cell door slid open.

“Right in you go,” requested Shireen.

Without being told twice, I stepped inside the tiny cell and as soon as I was through the door, Shireen called out for the controller to closed D-2. The heavy steel door slid closed and locked with a loud CLUNK!

I then turned to face the closed door, still handcuffed. A small hatch in the middle of the cell door opened:

“If you reverse up to the door, I’ll unlock your hands Greg,” requested Shireen.

Again, keen to be free of the cuffs, I did as I was told and soon my hands were free:

“You can remove your Burqa when in your cell Greg but never remove your prison suit,” expanded Shireen. “That rule is final and if you do, even to sleep at night, you’ll be punished severally by putting you into a much more uncomfortable uniform! You’ll be given a fresh prison uniform each morning when you’re taken for a shower but until then, you MUST keep that suit on!”

I explained that I understood before Shireen closed the hatch and left me to explore my new accommodation. The cell was brightly lit and very small with a toilet, wash-hand basin, single bunk and a table & chair; all of which were bolted to the wall and I guessed, designed by Americans from the Discovery programmes I’d seen on TV. Other than that, there was nothing else for me to do but sit in the tiny cell and wait for whatever came next.

Time does go slow when you’ve nothing to do but wait, and wait, and wait! I sat in that tiny cell for all long time until I heard the outer door open to the small cell block. I quickly got up and walked over to my cell door and peered out through the small perplex window, my only view outside my tiny windowless cell:

“Sharon, can you please come to your door!” I heard Shireen call out.

I then heard the sound of the small hatch being opened on Sharon’s cell door, next to mine:

“Here is your dinner,” explained Shireen. “I’m sorry but it isn’t going to be very nice from that syringe but there is little option but to go eat of go hungry!”

I knew Sharon couldn’t respond with the gag on the mask of shame to blame for that. The cell door hatch then slammed closed and it was my turn next:

“Hello Greg,” said Shireen as she opened my hatch. “At least your dinner will be a little more appetising than Sharon’s!”

“Thank you Shireen,” I replied as I took hold of the small plastic tray. “Are you not going to come in and join me for dinner?”

I could hear Shireen laughing from behind her mask and veil:

“Maybe later Greg,” she continued to laugh. “You are due some exercise tonight so once you’ve finished your meal, please pop on your Burqa and be ready for a walk outside?”

“I look forward to it,” I continued to tease this clearly interesting girl.

Dinner wasn’t bad for prison food. I little bland for my taste but I guess nothing to what Sharon was having to put up with next door. I took my time to eat and soon I heard a strange voice at Sharon’s door, asking her to hand back her tray before turning around to be cuffed-up. I stood staring through the tiny Perspex window of my cell door as Sharon was led out in her Burqa for this evening’s exercise. She turned to look at me but there was no way for her to communicate with me:

“Eyes forward!” yelled the prison guard.

It was then my turn so I quickly donned the Burqa and prepared for Shireen’s arrival.

“Hello dearest,” I teased. “Are we going for a walk now?”

“We are,” replied Shireen, “but first can I please have your tray back?”

Doing what I was told, I handed the now empty tray through the cell door hatch.

“Thank you Greg,” responded Shireen before asking me to turn around and prepare to be cuffed (hands behind my back).”

“You don’t need to handcuff me!” I tried to relax the situation.

“Prison policy I’m afraid,” explained Shireen. “All prisoners go nowhere in this facility without being handcuffed!”

I again accepted my fate and turned around for Shireen to lock ridged handcuffs on me. I could feel her tugging and when I turned around, I could vaguely see Shireen (through the mesh of my Burqa) holding onto a red type of leash, attached to my handcuffs, now binding my arms behind my back. On her command, the cell door slid open and I waited to be directed outside.

“You’re very relaxed about this prison sentence,” commented Shireen as she led me out of the small cell block.

“I’m not happy about being in here,” I replied. “I’d prefer to be back in Kumar City with Aalia my girlfriend, no disrespect to you!”

“None taken,” Shireen responded as she guided me through the myriad of locked doors, which all open electronically via some sort of central control centre. “I’ll try to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.”

“That’s nice, I appreciate it,” I continued to be friendly to a kind prison officer who was clearly doing her best to make my stay here in jail as nice as possible.

It was then I spotted a Burqa clad prisoner locked in some sort of Perspex pod. She came over to the clear door and tried to call out to me but she was clearly gagged and handcuffed:

“Is that Sharon?” I asked Shireen.

“It sure is,” replied Shireen. “Her personal officer isn’t as nice as me and as it is up to us what type of exercise you get, it is clear that Sharon’s personal officer has just dumped her in that pod for an hour.”

“Yeah but she has left Sharon handcuffed, so there is no way she can do any exercise in there,” I acted concerned.

“I’m afraid it isn’t our concern Greg,” replied Shireen as we exited the building into a warm Kumarian evening.”

The prison had a type in internal garden, surrounded by a high wall and barbed wire, not to mention the bright yellow lights that shone down on us from all around the perimeter.

“So what would you be doing at home if you were off duty right now?” I tried to enter into a conversation with this girl who was in control of my life right now.

“Oh not a lot,” replied Shireen. “Probably at home with my parents, trying to avoid the man that I’m being forced to marry.”
“Why do you want to avoid him?” I continued prodding.

Shireen then stopped and we sat down on the bench, with her still having a tight grip on my leash.

“He wants me to give up work, start a family and live under strictest Purdah,” explained Shireen in a somewhat frustrated voice.

“That’s not good,” I tried to show some sympathy. “I assume you don’t approve with your veiling laws in Kumar?”

“I don’t mind veiling,” replied Shireen, “but I do object to being forced to gag, wear clothes that severely restrict my movement and accept multiple veils that practically blind me.”

“Yeah, the way I am right now and I’m a guy,” I laughed.

“But Greg, you broke the law,” replied Shireen.

“No I didn’t,” I responded. “The girls in that court house hate me (a guy) working there and they were desperate to find something to pin on me!”

“I did hear something about that Greg,” replied Shireen as she put her right gloved hand on my Burqa covered knee. “I couldn’t believe what happened to you and Sharon but I’m afraid I have my job to do! Anyway, what would you be doing right now if you’d been at home with your girlfriend?”

“We’d either be out having a meal or going to the movies” I came back at Shireen. We might even have stayed at home, cooked a steak and sat down in front of the TV.”

“But would you have forced your girlfriend to veil?” asked Shireen.

“Not in the house unless Aalia wanted to be veiled and restrained,” I laughed.

There was then a silence.

“Do you mean that your girlfriend choses to be veiled and restrained?” Shireen seemed shocked.

“Yes sometimes,” I started to explain. “I do not force Aalia to veil while at home. While outside she has to veil because she cannot afford to be caught again. But at home I like to see her figure and her big beautiful dark eyes, not forgetting her smile. Being veiled or wearing a Burqa means that I’d miss that aspect of our relationship.”

Shireen started to bubble:

“I wish Kumarian men were like you English,” she cried.

“It’s okay,” I tried to comfort Shireen, even leaning my Burqa covered head on her shoulder. “Not all Kumarian men are like that, we just need to find you a nice man that doesn’t demand the strictest Purdah on you.”

I could only image Shireen smiling behind her veil and mask before announced that it was time to go back to my cell:

“I think that I will enjoy our walks this weekend,” I tried to break down more barriers.

“I’m working all weekend so I’ll be back tomorrow,” explained Shireen as she led me back to my cell.

Once there, Shireen followed me into my cell before uncuffing my hands:

“I shouldn’t do this this,” she said as my Burqa came off, followed by her veil.

With the black mask sharing at me and an open mouth, Shireen started to kiss me. I was a little shocked but went along with it:

“Umm, I’ve always wanted to kiss a westerner,” explained Shireen. “The reports are right; you are a much more romantic and caring breed. I’m sorry but I need to go now. There is a sleeping Burqa in that bunk box and remember, never remove your suit or you’ll be sorry.”

With that, this strange girl left my cell, calling for the door to be closed and locked. In the box next to my bed, I found the sleeping Burqa, a lightly padded sleeping bag with a large ring-pull zip at the bottom and a built-in mask with heavy mesh covering around the face area. I was eager to give it a go but first I need to brush my teeth and take a leak. Once done, I laid out the sleeping Burqa, pulled open the bottom zip and started to climb in. It was a little awkward but a lot of fun! Once my head slipped into the built-in mask I had to find a way to close the zip. Remember that my arms were now inside the sleeping Burqa, just like a sleeping bag so I had to manoeuvre my hands until I could grab hold of the large zipper ring-pull and close the zip until I was sealed inside the sleeping Burqa. This was an excellent accessory and I had to get Aalia and I one of these back home. This is where my problem started because I was horny, horny as hell and I wanted to just pull down the zip on my Zentai prison suit and play with myself but that would then cause its’ own problems so I tried to relax as best I could, until sleep finally took over.

Friday started with a shock as I heard banging on my cell door:

“Wake up you lazy shit,” I heard an unfamiliar voice in broken English on the other side of my cell door!”

I scrambled to try and get out of my sleeping Burqa but under the pressure of this torrent of abuse coming from the other side of the cell door, I struggled to grab hold of the zip pull:

“You have one minute to come to the door,” she screamed!”

“Please hold on, I can’t get out of the sleeping Burqa?” I pleaded for common sense.

It was then the cell door slid open and a female guard entered the cell:

“Get up, eat and be ready for your shower in thirty minutes,” she grunted in a serious tone!”

She then left me to gather my thoughts and try to start my Friday but where was Shireen, the nice prison guard? Breakfast over and the nasty female guard was back at my cell door:

“Tray!” she yelled!.

“Okay,” I replied. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist!”
“Burqa and come here to get cuffed up,” she continued her demands!

As with normal protocol, I pulled on the orange Burqa and reversed up to the cell door:

“Hey, take it easy!” I cried as the rigid handcuffs were snapped hard around each wrist and tightened up too far. “There is no need to be so rough!”

“Enough complaining or I’ll gag you,” were her next requirements before demanding that I follow her to the shower room.

As we entered the shower room, I was directed through and Perspex door, before it electronically closed and my handcuffs were removed:

“You’ve 30 minutes to wash and shave,” called out the nasty guard. “Everything you need is in there and a new clean suit for you to wear so please just leave the one you’re wearing by the door, along with the used towel!”

With that, I was alone to shower and shave, which was a pleasant experience, especially being able to remove the Zentai prison suit for the first time since arriving in the prison last night. As usual I was taking more time than allowed or this nasty complaining bitch could be bothered with:

“Are you ready yet?” she called out.

“Nearly,” I replied but clearly I wasn’t as I’d still to slip into the clean prison suit, which was black instead of the red one I wore last night.

As I pulled it on, I realised that this particular suit was different. Instead of having two mesh coverings over each eye, this suit had two pads, which meant I’d be unable to see.

“Hey, I can’t see in this suit!” I called out to the guard waiting impatiently behind the Perspex door.

“That’s just tough,” she yelled back! “Now hurray up or you’ll have more to worry about than just not being able to see!”

I ignored her but decided to play along and simply pulled up the rear zip until it reached my neck. I then found that there was also a zip at the top of my now covered head (except for the open mouth). Once pulled down, both zips met behind my neck. I was nearly ready except for the Burqa, which I had to find blindly.

“What is keeping you?” yelled the guard.

“I can’t find the Burqa because I can’t see!” I called back.

I then heard the locked door open and felt the guard grabbing hold of me:

“Hands!” she screamed, tugging at both wrists until they were securely locked behind my back.

I could feel the Burqa being pulled over my head but it didn’t matter how it fell as I couldn’t see anything anyway. With the leash firmly in my guard’s hands, I was pushed through the prison towards my cell (I think). I could hear a door opening and the guard yelling out:

“Recreation; I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” and then the door slamming closed.

I could only imagine that I was now locked inside the same Perspex pod that I saw Sharon in last night. As I walked away from the door, I felt a yank on my handcuffs. I then realised that the stupid bitch had locked the leash in the door, so I was stuck. I then turned around and yelled back:

“Come back here you stupid bitch and release my hands,” I yelled!

As suspected, I was ignored and my thirty minute recreation time was spent leaning up against the door with my hands locked behind my back. It wasn’t long until the door opened and the nasty voice demanded:

“Back to your cell!”

“It would have been nice if you had at least not locked the leash in the door,” I complained.

“Shut up and get a move on,” she grunted as I was shoved back inside my cell.

“Cuffs,” she yelled, demanding that I reverse up to the door to have my handcuffs removed. “Now remember, you can take off your Burqa but you must leave on the suit!”

“That’s crap,” I yelled back, pulling off the Burqa blindly, throwing it on the cell floor. “I can’t fucking see in this thing so I’m pulling off the hood!”

I pulled the hood zip up and eased the spandex material from my face, looking straight at the prison officer on the other side of my cell door:

“Put you mask back on!” she yelled.

“Go fuck yourself!” I replied, heading back towards my bed.

“Put the mask back on or!” she screamed.

“Or what you grumpy old cow,” I called back, sitting on my cell bunk.

I could then hear her muttering on the radio in Arabic. It was then a group of female prison officers appeared at my cell door in riot gear. This was going to be interesting I thought as I was yelled at again to put on my mask and reverse up to the door:

“This is against any human rights,” I called out. “I’m prepared to put up with your laws but I’m not prepared to sit in this cell blind all day!”

It was then the hatch on the cell door opened and something was thrown through, filling my cell with smoke. I began to cough as I inhaled the sweet fumes and then my lights went out.

I’ve no idea how long I was asleep but I awoke in the dark again so I expected I was once again wearing the built in hood of my prison suit. I then realised something was really wrong as I tried to lift my hand to find out what was going on. My hands were pinned by my side in some sort of leather restraint. So were my ankles and something also filled my mouth. I was now tied to a bunk (I think) blind and gagged. How long would I be left like this?

I had to wait hours for my cell door to open:

“Greg, what have you done?” I heard the familiar voice of Shireen.

I could only MUMPTH a response but soon I could feel the gag being unbuckled from behind my head and a large sponge ball being pulled from my mouth:

“Thank you Shireen,” I opened my side of the conversation. “Can you please free my hands?”

“I’m sorry Greg, I’m not permitted to do that,” replied Shireen.

“But I’m blind in this suit!” I responded.

“I know Greg,” Shireen stroked my spandex covered face. “I’d love to remove your hood but they’ve fitted you with a steel collar and I don’t have the keys to unlock it.”

Shireen was now rubbing her gloved hands over my spandex covered body.

“That feels nice,” I tried to see where this would go.

“I’m glad you like it Greg,” responded Shireen. “I’m not wearing my veil.”

I could then feel her tongue enter my mouth.

“I’ve got you and there is nothing you can do to stop me,” teased Shireen.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you even if I was free,” I tried to see what would happen next.

We began kissing again and this time her hands reached down towards my crotch.

“Are you horny Shireen?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” she replied. “Maybe this is why my husband-to-be wants to keep me veiled and bound? I like having you veiled and bound!”

Shireen then pulled down the crotch zip of my prison suit and pulled my dick from my pants:

“Oh my,” coo’d Shireen. “He is happy to see me!”

I could then feel Shireen prepare to climb on top of me, which she did:

“Oh, yes, oh yes,” she called out as she slid up on down on my shaft. “I like, I like, I like!”

Was this rape? No it couldn’t be as I was enjoying myself. I was bound hand and foot to my cell bunk and completely blind but I wouldn’t have stopped Shireen doing what she wanted as I got fucked by my personal prison officer. Soon she was screaming out for an orgasm, which came shortly before I blew my load. As Shireen came off her adrenalin induced high, she started to apologise:

“I’m sorry Greg, I’m so sorry,” Shireen started to cry. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Calm down Shireen, It’s okay,” I tried to relax the situation. “Was I complaining, did I say NO at any time?”

“It’s not okay,” Shireen continued crying.

She was sitting on the small bunk beside me so what use I did have of my right hand, bound in the leather cuff, I touched Shireen, trying to get her to realise I was cool with what had just happened:

“Please kiss me?” I asked Shireen.

After some silence, I felt Shireen approach and our tongues started to go again.

“I’m so sorry Greg, I have to go,” explained Shireen. “I will be back later to feed you but until then I’m so sorry but I’ve got to gag you again.”

“But I need to take a leak!” I pleaded.

“You’ll need to hold it in a little longer,” said Shireen as she shoved the sponge back into my mouth and buckled it up from behind.”

I could feel her kiss my on the sodden sponge before fixing up my crotch zip but soon I was alone again, bound to my cell bunk until the lovely Shireen returned.

I waited for another hour or so until my cell door opened:

“Great news Greg,” explained Shireen as she came bounding into my cell: “You’re to be released!”

Shireen then unbuckled and removed my gag.

“What do you mean released?” I asked, trying to pull myself, unable to do so because of the leather cuffs.

“This facility doesn’t release prisoners at the weekend or on public holidays,” Shireen continued, now unbuckling the leather cuffs from my ankles, then my wrists. “Someone from Kumar City has demanded that we release you!”

“What about Sharon?” I asked.

There was then some silence:

“Sharon was released this morning Greg,” Shireen let the cat out of the bag.

“So why wasn’t I released this morning?” I demanded.

“Because of your outburst at shower time,” replied Shireen. “If you hadn’t lost your temper, you’d be home in Kumar City right now. As a result, you’ll be taken back to your hotel and your driver will pick you up first thing in the morning.”

“That’s fantastic,” I replied. “I’ll miss you.”

There was then a silence before I could feel Shireen kissing me again but this time I could put my arms around her.

“I’m about to go off shift tonight Greg so I’ll take you back to your hotel,” explained Shireen.

“And I can order us some room service,” I teased.

“That would be nice but first I need to handcuff you and get you to reception for release,” Shireen helped me up and turned me around to install the familiar handcuffs, before pulling the Burqa over my head.

I followed her out of the cell (blind) and back through a myriad of electronic doors. Finally we arrived at reception:

“I’m going to unlock your collar first and then your wrists Greg,” explained an unfamiliar voice. “I then want you to go behind the curtain and change back into your won cloths.”

“With pleasure,” I replied.

Once behind the curtain, I was able to remove the Burqa and prison suit. I could see once again and soon as I was dressed on my suit, the same suit that I arrived in last night.

“I’m ready,” I called out, pulling back the curtain.

“I believe officer Shireen is taking you back to your hotel Greg,” asked the female officer?

“I think that’s correct,” I replied.

“I’m going to handcuff you again for her safety,” explained the female prison officer who now held up a pair of hinged handcuffs.

I didn’t complain as I turned around and offered my arms to be restrained. That complete I was led out of the small room and deposited again in a reception pod. Shireen soon returned and we left the prison in a dark Toyota land cruiser. As normal in Kumar, nothing was said on the journey back to my hotel. Shireen then explained something to her driver in Arabic and she dragged me out of the 4×4, (along with a small hold-all) which left as soon as the door was closed:

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I’ve told my family’s driver that I’ll be call when I’m ready to go home,” replied Shireen.

“Will he tell your dad?” I asked.

“Maybe,” replied Shireen. “Anyway, we need to get you out of the cuffs as we can’t walk through the hotel with your hands restrained.”

Shireen then used a key to unlock and remove my handcuffs. Soon we were in my spacious hotel room.

“Do you permit me to unveil Greg?” asked Shireen.

“What do you mean DO I PERMITT,” I replied! “You’re a free woman so you can unveil in my company if you want to!”

Shireen then pulled the official veil from her head and then fiddled with the zip on the mask that covered her entire head:

“Here let me help you,” I offered my support.

Boy was I in for a pleasant surprise when I finally pulled Shireen’s mask from her head. She was a beautiful Indian girl with massive dark eyes and long brown hair, falling well below her shoulders.

“You look gorgeous,” I complemented my guest as I spun her around for a kiss.

“Thank you Greg,” replied Shireen as she continued the passion.
“Let’s order some dinner and then I’d like to take a shower and change,” I suggested.

“That would be perfect Greg,” replied Shireen. “I’ve brought some cloths to change into so can I join you?”

Did she really need to ask? Anyway, we ordered food and told room service to deliver it to the room in an hour. I headed for a shower but you can imagine my surprise when a naked Shireen followed me within minutes.

“My family would probably stone me to death Greg if they knew I was in here with you,” explained Shireen as we showered together.

“Maybe in Afghanistan,” I replied “but surely not in Kumar?”

Shireen just looked at me with her big eyes:

“Greg, you’ve no idea what goes on behind closed doors in this fucking country,” Shireen started to shed a tear.

I simply put my arms around her and we hugged, despite my cock rising to the occasion.

Shireen exited the shower first and after drying herself off, she headed out to the main hotel room to get dressed, allowing me the space to get dried of and getting changed into a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt. As I entered the hotel room, I was confronted with Shireen wearing a dark Red Indian silk dress over black leggings:

“Fuck me Shireen, you look beautiful,” I praised my special friend.

“Well thank you good sir,” she replied, while starting to dry her hair with a towel.

We kissed again and then the knock came from the door:

“Room Service!”

Shireen quickly scurried into the bathroom to avoid veiling and I welcomed the room service guy who placed out the two meals. As soon as he was topped, he left the room and I gave Shireen the all clear to come out. We sat and ate a wonderful meal together and chatted:

“You have a girlfriend here in Kumar?” she asked.
“You know I do,” I replied. “Aalia is home in Kumar City and I doubt she would be too happy with what is going on here right now. Why does it concern you because you also have a boyfriend Shireen?”

Shireen just looked straight into my eyes (again) melting my will:

“Yeah but my parents chose him and to be quite frank, I dislike him because he is like every other man in this fucking country,” replied Shireen. “Nazeer is not a bad man but he does everything his bloody father demands of his eldest son and that includes his attitude towards woman. On the other hand, you Englishmen respect women!”

“We do Shireen,” I responded. “I have struggled with the way woman are treated as second class citizens in Kumar and while I have to say your veiling laws do turn me on sexually, I do not think they should be mandatory while outside or in a man’s company.”

Shireen then approached and we started to kiss again. This led us towards the bed and I flopped down, with Shireen lading on top of me. She then picked up a very long black silk scarf that had been lying on the bed:

“These long scarves come in very useful,” teased Shireen as she approached me.

I thought Shireen was about to blindfold me but instead she started winding the extremely long black silk scarf around my head, covering my face from my nose down and still leaving about four feet of silk dangling from my neck:

“I do like veiling a man,” laughed Shireen as she started kissing me through the thick silk. “In fact I really enjoyed fucking you in jail while you were tied down in your cell, it drove me wild.”

“I’m glad you got good use out of me,” I teased in response.

Shireen then went for her bag and the handcuffs that were used to restrain me while in her custody:

“Can I put these on you Greg?” Shireen asked.

I nodded and I was told to roll over and place my hands behind my back. Soon I cuffed and in Shireen’s custody again!

“Are you comfortable Greg?” asked Shireen.

“I am,” I replied.

“We’ll soon change that,” Shireen laughed as she used the two remaining ends f the long scarf to wrap around my eyes (blindfolding me) and the last two ends were pulled into my mouth and double knotted, gagging me.

The scene then became frantic as Shireen pulled off my shorts and then her leggings (I think) because soon she was on top of me and we were fucking like a pair of mad animals. Shireen was screaming in Arabic as she exploded, followed shortly by me:

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she announced, obviously heading off to get cleaned up.

All I could do was lie back and MUMPTH into my gag. It was then the scene got very ugly!

I heard the hotel room door burst open and two men rushing in, shouting and screaming in Arabic. I could hear Shireen being punched followed by her screams but there was nothing I could do. I then felt a hand grabbing the silk that covered my face but as the gag came out and the blindfold came off, I saw a fat ugly bastard standing over me:

“Who the fuck do we have here?” he said in English.

He then raised his fist and the last thing I felt was the pain of his fist meeting my head. I passed out on that first punch!

 

Greg’s weekend gets a whole lot worse!

When I finally came round, I was still in the hotel room my hands were still cuffed behind my back and the long black silk scarf was hanging around the lower part of my head, covering my face and neck. My left temple throbbed from the earlier punch and as I tried to gather my thoughts on what had just happened, my thoughts came back to Shireen. Where was Shireen?  There was also the question on how I was going to get out of the handcuffs without keys? I used my fingers to feel for the key holes, which would not be found on a pair of hinged handcuffs, if Shireen had locked them on me professionally. Thank goodness she hadn’t! I could feel the tiny keyholes but where were Shireen’s keys? I scrambled off the bed but Shireen’s handbag and holdall were gone. ‘Shit’ I thought to myself! How the fuck was I going to get out of this mess? As I thought long and hard about calling reception there was a knock on the door:

“Hello Guest Services!” the male voice called. “Are you okay Sir?”

Again I though hard about ignoring the knock but what the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t escape these handcuffs without help!

“Hello Mr Greg, are you in there?” came the voice again.

“Yes, I’m here and I need help,” I finally broke my silence.

The well-dressed man in the hotel uniform then used his pass key to enter my room and the look on his face painted a thousand pictures when he saw me, a semi naked European with his hands cuffed behind his back and a mass of black silk covering his lower face:

“Are you okay sir?” he asked.

“No not really,” I replied. “I’ve been attacked and my friend has been kidnapped!”

The guy just stood in front of me:

“Hold on and I’ll call the manager,” he replied.

After making a quick phone call in Arabic, the female manager in her corporate black Burqa with the hotels embalm in red, embroidered on her forehead entered the room and the male left:

“I’ll be outside sir,” he said as he left my room.

I thanked him then the female manager asked if she could sit down on the sofa in my room and I agreed:

“Sir, may I call you Greg?” asked the Burqa clad manager.

“Yes Ma’am,” I replied.

“You came here with Shireen from the prison?” asked the female manager.

“I did,” I responded.

“Yes, I know of Shireen’s family,” the female manager continued. “I noticed her father and her Fiancée were here earlier. Greg, I need to be honest with you: It is not acceptable in Kumarian culture for a female to have a relationship or let’s call it an affair with another man once her parents have chosen a suitable husband. Shireen will have brought great shame on her family and I suspect it was her future husband that punched you.”

I then looked directly at this Burqa covered polite but all business woman:

“Why have you not called the police?” I asked.

“We have two options Greg,” she explained. “ONE: I can call the police and they will start to ask a lot of really silly questions, which most probably will cause you to be deported for having an affair with a Kumarian who has been chosen for marriage or TWO: We can forget about this whole episode and you can go home to Kumar.”

I thought carefully about my response. My head was saying GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE but my heart was SAYING ENSURE SHIREEN IS SAFE!

“I’ve got an idea,” I suggested an alternative approach. “How about I don’t call the police but you take me to see Shireen at her family home? Once I know she is safe, I’ll forget all about this stupid episode and I’ll go home quietly!”

The Burqa clad female just sat there is silence:

“Okay but I need to make a phone call,” she explained. “I’ll go back to my office and I’ll return here in ten minutes.”

I smiled in response to at least moving slightly forward.

“Before you go, can you do something about these handcuffs?” I asked.

The female manager just laughed:

“I think we can solve that small problem,” she continued to laugh; holding a small key ring with handcuffs keys hanging from her gloved hand.

I thanked the female manager who then came over and used the keys to unlock my wrists. Taking the handcuffs with her, she left my hotel room. I was then able to remove the scarf and survey the damage to my face. As I cleaned myself up, the phone rang:

“Hello Greg is that you?” asked Sharon on the other end of the phone.

“Yes Sharon it is, how are you?” I replied.

“I was released this morning but was told you’d be spending the day in jail for kicking off this morning but I hear they have now released you?” asked Sharon.

“I did give the guards a little trouble this morning Sharon but things are still not good down here,” I explained as I started to tell Sharon about the story around Shireen.

“Shit, that’s terrible,” responded Sharon. “I’m going to call the judge and see what she suggests; I’ll call you back in five.”

“Please don’t be so hasty Sharon,” I tried to slow things down. “I’ve made a deal with the hotel manager who is going to take me to see Shireen at her family home. As soon as I know where she lives, I can make arrangements to get her out of that hell-hole!”

Sharon was clearly concerned for me but agreed to wait until she next heard from me. I then got a chance to call Aalia, who was worried sick as she had heard I was due for release this afternoon but had heard no news of me. I of course didn’t tell her the entire Shireen story but I did explain the fact a female guard brought me back to the hotel (in handcuffs of course) but before she had time to release me, her jealous husband-to-be had barged into my hotel room, knocked me unconscious and kidnaped the girl.

“Greg, why do are you so concerned about this girl (Shireen)?” asked Aalia. “She is a Kumarian national and there is nothing you can do!”

“Aalia,” I began to explain. “I’m a big softy and I’m concerned Shireen’s family might punish her for something she didn’t do so I’m keen to ensure her family know that nothing happened between us!”

Aalia still wasn’t happy but understood that I’d head straight back to Kumar City after I checked on Shireen. It was around the same time I hung up that the female manager returned to my hotel room:

“May I come in Greg?” she asked as I answered the door.

“Of course,” I replied.

“I have talked with Shireen’s father who has agreed that you can visit Shireen but he has led down some strict instructions”, explained the manager.

“Yes and what are they?” I enquired.

“I have to take you to their home myself and I’m afraid you will be handcuffed and blindfolded,” the Burqa clad manager set down Shireen’s father instructions.

This meant I’d have no idea where Shireen lived but at least I’d get to see her or would I?

“When we get to Shireen’s home, will you remove the blindfold and handcuffs?” I asked.

The manager stood silent for a little longer than made me comfortable:

“I’m sure we can lose the blindfold but I’m afraid you’ll probably remain handcuffed until we’re back at the hotel,” she explained.

I negotiated to ensure I wasn’t handcuffed or blindfolded until I was in the car on route so after putting on a clean shirt, I was escorted out to a waiting minivan by the hotel manager but as soon as we were safely on route to Shireen’s, I was instructed to place my hands behind my back so that the hinged cuffs could be fitted. Once my hands were secure, the manager wrapped the extremely long black silk scarf around my entire head, covering my face completely:

“Can you breathe okay Greg?” asked the female hotel manager.

“Yes thank you,” I replied. “Will this trip take long?”

I was told we’d be in the car for less than ten minutes. As soon as we arrived at Shireen’s home, I was led out of the car, still handcuffed with me head completely covered.

“Can anyone see me like this?” I asked in a panic as I got out of the car.

“No Greg, we’re in a private driveway,” the female manager reassured me.

As we approached the door, I could hear and number of people talking in Arabic:

“So you want to see my daughter Shireen?” asked this man’s voice.

“Yes Sir,” I replied. “There has been a massive misunderstanding here. Your daughter Shireen was required to take me back to the hotel by her employer.”

“So why were you handcuffed and wearing a scarf?” he continued his questioning.

I was going to have to come up with something good if I was going to get out of this mess!

“It is very simple,” I replied. “Shireen was instructed that I remain restrained as I am now for her safety and to ensure I couldn’t remove the Blindfold to protect her modesty according the laws of Purdah and Kumar!”

“I see,” he replied inviting me inside.

Again I could hear him talking to the hotel manager in Arabic.

“Greg,” I’m going to leave you here,” explained the female hotel manager. “Shireen’s father will organise a taxi to take you back to the hotel after you’ve seen Shireen.”

This scared me a little but I was I no position to argue:

“What about these handcuffs?” I asked.

Again I heard the two of them talking in Arabic.

“I have the keys to your freedom,” explained Shireen’s father. “I will release your hands after you’ve met with my daughter.”

I thanked Shireen’s father for his generosity and said goodbye to the female hotel manager. The front door then slammed closed and I could hear Shireen’s father talking to someone else in Arabic.

“This is Tasnim, Shireen’s younger sister,” explained Shireen’s father. “She will take you to see Shireen.”

“Please come with me,” explained the new female voice.

“Thank you Tasnim,” I replied.

I complete darkness due to the silk that was wrapped several times around my head; I was led through what must be an enormous house by this stranger, Shireen’s younger sister. We finally stopped and Tasnim explained:

“Shireen is in here,” explained Tasnim. “As soon as I take you inside the room, I will remove your blindfold but my father has the keys to your handcuffs so I cannot release your arms.”

I told Tasnim that I understood and the door opened. I could then feel the massive bundle of silk being pulled from my face and soon is rested in a heap around my neck and lower face. I saw Tasnim in a bright red Burqa standing right in front of me:

“That’s a bright Burqa,” I tried to make light of the situation.

“Do you really like it?” asked Tasnim. “I prefer bright colours to those old boring black and blue Burqa’s!”

As the mass of silk fell from my face, I could see a shrouded (blue Burqa) figure, kneeling on the floor of what was clearly a bedroom:

“Is that you Shireen?” I asked.

The blue shrouded figure just nodded in response.

“Tasnim, is Shireen gagged?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Tasnim.

“How can I talk to her if she is gagged?” I asked in frustration.

“Hold on a minute,” Tasnim grumbled as she approached Shireen and fiddled underneath her Burqa. “Okay she can talk now so I will leave you two together for twenty minutes.”

I thanked Tasnim who scurried out of the large bedroom, closing and by the sound of things, locking the door behind her.

“Greg, are you okay?” asked Shireen in a tearful voice.

“I’m okay Shireen,” I responded. “I am however very worried about you. Have you been hurt?”

“I’m fine Greg,” replied Shireen. “I’m so sorry you got punched by Nazeer.”

“It’s okay,” I replied rushing over to put my arms around Shireen who still kneeled on the floor in front of me. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I’d love to put my arms around you but as you can see, I’m still handcuffed.”

“Greg, I can’t see a thing,” explained Shireen. “I’d also love to stand up but my father has put me in heavy shackles and manacles and they are connected together so I can hardly move!”

“Have they blindfolded you Shireen?” I continued to find out what was under Shireen blue Burqa.

There was silence for a minute:

“I’m wearing my punishment dress under this Burqa,” explained Shireen. “Every family has a punishment dress that they force their daughters into when they have misbehaved. Mine is made of heavy rubber and covers me from head to toe! I’m cooking in here but there are no eye holes so I’m blind and I’ve been told that I’ll be forced to wear the punishment dress for another two days.”

“That’s terrible Shireen,” I replied. “I’ve explained to your father that nothing happened between us and this has all been a big misunderstanding!”

“I appreciate your attempts Greg but I doubt my father will listen to you a westerner,” Shireen started to cry.

I then knelt down on the floor in front of Shireen and rested my head on her shoulder:

“It’s okay my dear,” I will try and make arrangements to get you out of here as soon as possible,” I explained my plans.

Shireen started to really cry now!

“Greg, I have brought shame on this family,” Shireen bubbled. “Nazeer has told me that he will not marry me and my father is furious!”

“But Shireen, you didn’t want to marry Nazeer,” I tried to make light of the situation.

“You are correct Greg but here in Kumar family is the most important thing,” Shireen continued. “I have brought so much shame on my family!”

I then told Shireen that I would fix this. As I knocked on the door, Tasnim returned and opened the door:

“Is that you finished Greg?” she asked.

“No Tasnim, I demand to see your father down here right now,” I requested in a serious tone!

“Okay, give me a few minutes to get him,” replied Tasnim.

I returned to Shireen as Tasnim closed and locked the heavy wooden bedroom door.

“What are you going to say to him Greg?” asked Shireen.

“I’ve no idea Shireen but I’ll start with demanding that he removes your bonds right now!” I replied.

It was just then the key turned on the door and in walked Shireen’s father, followed by Tasnim:

“My daughter Tasnim said you wanted to see me Greg?” Shireen’s father opened the conversation.

“Yes Sir, that is correct,” I replied. “I thought we had established that this was all a misunderstanding so why is Shireen being forced to wear a punishment dress and bound hand and foot?”

Shireen’s father just looked straight at me in complete contempt of my western values:

“Son, you have a lot to learn about Kumarian culture,” he started. “No matter what happened or didn’t happen, the fact is that Nazeer, the boy I had chosen for Shireen to marry has dumped her and therefore brought great shame on this family and me especially!”

“Sir from what I hear,” I continued pleading. “Shireen is a respectable Kumarian girl. She abides by all your veiling laws and therefore lives under the laws of your household and Purdah. Nazeer was demanding that Shireen give up her employment and live under even stricter laws, where she would become Nazeer’s property and no longer the bright girl you’ve brought up so well!”

I think that got Shireen’s father thinking. He stood with his hand held up to his mouth for at least a minute before coming back at me:

“Son, are you married?” he asked.

“No sir!” I replied.

“You have seen my daughter Shireen without a veil, haven’t you?” he continued his questioning.

“I have,” I replied, keeping my answer brief and to the point.

“Did you like what you saw?” he dropped a humdinger of a question.

“Yes, Shireen is beautiful,” I replied without hesitation.

“Then it is settled you shall marry Shireen,” he stepped in. “Tasnim, take Greg down to the cellar until we work out what to do here.”

I was shocked at what had just happened here. I had little time to react as Shireen’s father stormed off and left Tasnim to deal with me. She did what her father asked but before taking me to the cellar, she pulled the mass of silk over my face once more.

“Greg, I’m so sorry screamed Shireen,” as she could hear me being dragged off to await my fate.

The door to Shireen’s room was closed and locked behind me as Tasnim directed me blind through the large house and down some stairs.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” laughed Tasnim as she guided me along the corridors.

“This is kidnapping Tasnim,” I replied. “You might be having fun but I’m sure it is against the laws of Kumar.

“So what,” replied Tasnim as she pushed me into a room and pulled a door closed behind me.

“What about this scarf and my handcuffs?” I yelled.

I heard nothing more but Tasnim’s footsteps as they left my vicinity. Where the fuck was I? I had to get rid of the scarf that was blindfolding me so I pushed my face up against the cold wall and manoeuvred my nose until the silk finally slipped from my eyes but still covered my face. I was locked in a stone room with a heavy wooden door. Along one wall was a single bed and on the end wall was a toilet and wash hand basin. Along the opposite wall to the bed was an iron ring in the wall with two manacles hanging from a chain. This in affect was a prison cell, a dungeon! What the fuck was I doing here? Why did I come here to see Shireen and when would I be released? Loads of questions I wanted answered but the reality of my situation was clear:

    1. I was still handcuffed (hands behind my back);

 

    1. The long black silk scarf was still hanging around my neck and because there was so much silk, it covered my face, veiling me and

 

  1. I was locked in a basement cell in the house of a girl that I was fond of but I certainly didn’t want to marry!

It was getting late into the night when I finally heard footsteps outside my basement dungeon. I had been lying on my side on the bed, trying to get comfortable which isn’t easy when your hands are locked behind your back with hinged handcuffs and breathing is laboured due to the mass of silk covering my nose and mouth. The bolts finally slid back and a female in a black satin Burqa stood in the open doorway:

“Are you okay Greg?” asked Shireen from behind her veils.

“Not really,” I replied. “I’ve been locked in these handcuffs for hours now! My arms are killing me and I want out of this place!”

“I’m so sorry,” responded Shireen, coming over and sitting down on the bed beside me. “I will go and see if I can find some keys to the handcuffs but there’s no way I can get you out of here until my dad goes out. Can you hang on in here tonight?”

“Surely I will have been reported missing by now?” I continued to try and escape this situation.

“I suppose that will have happened by now Greg,” replied Shireen. “The problem is that you are not the most liked person in this town so I doubt the police will ever put in any effort to find you.”

The reality of my situation was really starting to scare the shit out of me:

“Will you help me escape Shireen?” I started to beg.

The Burqa clad girl just sat, looking at me from behind her mesh screen:

“Do you want to escape?” she stupidly asked.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing:

“Shireen, you are a lovely girl and I’m really, really fond of you but I’m in love with Aalia who is back in Kumar City wondering where I am and no doubt starting to panic!” I explained.

Shireen started to cry:

“Greg, I thought you would want to marry me,” she bubbled. “I’ve lost Nazeer because of you and I have brought great shame on this family so what am I supposed to do now?”

“Shireen,” I’d love to hug you right now,” I tried to comfort this clearly screwed up girl. “But I’m a little bit tied up right now.”

“Well let’s see if you change your mind,” responded this clearly disturbed young lady who pushed me down until the bed.

Shireen started to play with the scarf that semi covered my face. The long mass of silk was first of all untied before being re-wrapped around my head, covering my complete face and then being tied off in my mouth, effectively gagging me. All I could do was MUMPTH in response to another attack as Shireen pulled off my shorts and helped herself, fucking me until she came. I was now desperate to come myself but Shireen got off:

“Poor little Greg wants an organism but he can’t have one unless I help,” teased Shireen.

I could hear water running and then the gloved fingers of my capture touching my still erect penis.

“If you say YES, I will let you come,” Shireen continued to tease.

How the fuck could I respond; I was gagged? I wanted out of here and fast so I had to comply so I started nodding. Shireen started playing with my cock even harder until I finally exploded.

“Was that nice?” she asked in a low sarcastic tone.

Again all I could do was nod.

“I’ll be back in the morning darling,” explained Shireen. “Enjoy the rest of your night but forget escaping because you’ll remain my personal prisoner until we marry in a few weeks!”

With that Shireen was gone, the door was bolted and I was left handcuffed, veiled, blind and still gagged in this basement dungeon. It was therefore a very long and painful night as I tried to get comfortable. I’ve slept in handcuffs many times but with the silk covering my face, breathing was difficult but I guess I did drift in and out as the hours passed. I had no concept of night and day because no light entered the basement dungeon. It was therefore two pairs of footsteps and the bolts being pulled back that got my attention:

“Good morning lover,” Shireen bounced into the cell.

“Good morning soon-to-be brother-in-law,” greeted Tasnim.

“We’re here to release your hands and offer you breakfast,” explained Tasnim. “If you give us any trouble, Shireen here has a tazor and will not hesitate to use it, it that clear?”

Again, all I could do was nod as one of the two girls helped me up and finally after hours and hours, the handcuffs were gone.

“Leave the scarf in place until you hear the door bolts closing Greg is that clear,” demanded Tasnim.

I nodded in response and the girls left me alone to remove my veil, blindfold and gag. It was good to finally get the use of my hands again so I made short work of the silk and in front of me was left a tray of eggs, toast and coffee. I was starving so I made short work of it. As more footsteps approached I heard knocking the cell door:

“Greg, have you finished your breakfast?” asked Tasnim from the other side of the door.

“Yes Tasnim,” I replied.

“Good boy,” she set out her next instructions. “I want you to wrap the scarf around your head again and only when you’ve done that will I enter your cell. I’m going to handcuff you and take you upstairs for a shower!”

I called out when I was ready and Tasnim entered the cell and handcuffed me again. I was then led out of the basement and up several flights of stairs to carpeted corridors. Finally I entered a room that smelled of perfume.

“You’re now in Shireen’s bedroom Greg,” explained Tasnim. “She has gone to work and I’m going to free you so that you can take a shower. I have the tazor so any trouble and you’ll be sorry, is that clear?”

“Tasnim, I’m to marry your sister in a few weeks so why would I hurt you,” I started to play along.

I then felt the long scarf come away from my face and standing in front of me was a beautiful young Indian girl that I’d not seen before:

“I glad to hear that,” replied Tasnim as she gave me a tight hug.

“Be soft Tasnim,” I complained as her tight grip pulled on my sore arms. “I’m still handcuffed here and that hurt!”

“I’m so sorry,” replied Tasnim as she unlocked the handcuffs. “Remember, I have the tazor here.”

Tasnim told me to go and take a shower and she would find me something to wear for the day. I was told she had left me some of her father’s razors and shaving foam so I had as long as I wanted to get cleaned up. The shower was wonderful and while I badly wanted to get out of here, I knew that I had to play along until my chance came. I exited the ensuite with a towel around my waist and Tasnim still unveiled standing in front of me:

“Should you not be veiled Tasnim?” I asked.

“I suppose I should,” she replied. “Anyway, you’ll be family in a few weeks so what does it matter anyway?”

“I guess not,” I replied. “So what do you want me to wear today?”

Tasnim just laughed, making me feel rather uncomfortable.

“Shireen tells me that you like wearing female cloths Greg,” teased Tasnim.

“Only because I had little to no other choice when I was in Shireen’s jail,” I started to panic.

“Anyway, my sister has always had a thing for weird men so I’ve left out some thick black tights and a padded bra to start with,” Shireen continued to dress me.

I pulled on the thick black opaque tights and satin bra with large gel packs in both cups.

“Okay here is your dress for the day,” laughed Tasnim as she handed me one of the punishment dressed.

I was a little excited to try this but I knew that I’d be handing over my freedom for the day. Nevertheless, I started pulling my arms into the heavy rubber, sliding my hands into the built in gloves:

“I’ll need a little help here Tasnim,” I called out as I started to pull my head into the built in hood.

Tasnim answered my request for help and after putting down the tazor, she approached helping me pull my head into the built in rubber hood.

“Hey this hood has no eyes!” I complained.

“Now you know what Shireen and I had to put up with when we were kids,” explained Tasnim as she pulled the mass of rubber down my smooth tights covered legs.

The skirt on the dress was tight and would clearly cause me to hobble rather than walk.

“How often were you forced into this type of dress?” I asked Tasnim.

“Not as often as my sister,” replied Tasnim. “I hated the punishment dress and avoided being punished but Shireen seemed to crave long terms in the dress and would spend many a weekend locked in the basement with her arms manacled to the wall, just where you’re going right now!”

“Please Tasnim,” I begged. “I’ve spent long enough down there!”

It was no use as I could only feel Tasnim pulling my arms behind my back and locking them into the hinged cuffs once again. I was then dragged back through the house and down to the basement.”

“Shireen will be home in an hour or so,” explained Tasnim. “I’m going to unlock your wrists and then you’re going to allow me to pop them into the manacles on the wall! Failure will mean 1,000 volts!”

I complied and soon my arms were stretched above me head and I was therefore bound to the stone wall.

“This should also keep you quiet,” laughed Tasnim as she stuffed a ball gag into my mouth and buckled it behind my head.

That complete, I as left alone in the basement dungeon to my own thoughts, which typically were questions around how the fuck did I get myself into this situation? Time was once again slow, very slow! Being manacled to the stone wall, standing for so long was a complete drag but then I suppose I was in drag, wearing the bra and tights below this heavy rubber hobble dress with tight skirt, built in gloves and the hood that left me blind. My jaw also ached after a short time due to the enormous sponge ball that filled my mouth. It was however a relief when I finally heard footsteps out the dungeon:

“Good afternoon Greg, how are you?” asked Shireen as she unbolted and opened the cell door.

I could only MUMPTH into the ball gag, which Shireen soon unbuckled.

“I’m hot and uncomfortable Shireen,” I responded. “I am however glad you are here. If we are to marry in a few weeks, I’d really like to spend some quality time with my fiancée.”

“I’m so glad you’ve come round to my way of thinking Greg,” replied Shireen. “I’m going to release your hands in a minute but first I’m going to put your ankles into some shackles and once your hands are free, I’m going to add some manacles to your wrists. I don’t want you to run away!”

“The bondage is not necessary Shireen,” I tried to find a way to escape this mad woman. “I am yours and I want to see you, touch you and learn all about the gorgeous girl that I’m about to marry.”

Shireen clearly ignored my pleas as she locked heavy shackles around each ankle, which left only a foot of chain to hobble me even further. Once my arms were free from the wall, I didn’t resist as Shireen locked similar heavy manacles around each wrist, pinning my arms behind my back once again. I was then led (very slowly) blind through the house and upstairs:

“I hear you’ve already been in my bedroom Greg?” asked Shireen.

“Yes my dear, I was here this morning when Tasnim brought my upstairs to shower,” I replied. ”I have to say that it is a very nice room.”

I could feel Shireen’s arms around me, and then a soft kiss on my lips through the mouth hole on the built in hood of the rubber bondage dress.

“Umm, that’s nice,” I teased. “Could you please take this dress off as I’d really like to see my wife to be?”

“That means that I’ll have to release your hands Greg,” Shireen thought very carefully about her safety.

“Yes, that is true Shireen,” I tried my luck. “You can still keep the shackles on so I’ll not be going anywhere!”

“I suppose you’re right,” replied Shireen. “Are you not enjoying the bondage dress?”

“The dress makes me feel so horny,” I continued to push my luck! “I’d still prefer to see the most beautiful girl in the world and be able to hold her in my arms.”

That was enough for Shireen who started the process of releasing me, starting with my arms and then the sticky job of getting me out of the rubber dress.

“You do look lovely today,” I complimented Shireen who was wearing a bright yellow silk blouse over white silk Indian trousers. Keeping to the silk theme, Shireen also wore a white silk scarf loosely around her head and folded under her chin taking the two silk ends around her neck and falling across her back.

“You do know how to please a girl,” responded Shireen, coming in for another kiss.

This led to us falling on the bed and kissing even more. Shireen accepted my advances and we started making out but it never led to sex as I was still wearing the thick opaque tights and my ankles were still shackled.

“Do you mind me keeping you restrained Greg?” asked Shireen as I lay on top of her.

“Do I have a choice?” I answered Shireen’s question with a question of my own.

“I know you don’t have a choice Greg,” responded Shireen.  “But it seems like you enjoy being my submissive!”

“I would prefer it if you allowed me some freedom Shireen,” I continued to play along. “If your will is to keep me bound then so be it!”

Shireen started to kiss me again before flipping me over on my side and picking up the heavy manacles to lock around each wrist, once again holding my arms behind my back.

“I do like it when you’re helpless,” teased Shireen. “When you saw me last night, I was restrained in these heavy irons but my father attached the ankle chain to the chain between my manacles, just like this.”

It was clear Shireen had just padlocked me into an iron hogtie.

“It really runs me on to see you so bound,” continued Shireen who now plucked the long white silk scarf from her head before wrapping it around mine, blinding me once again.

“I’m here to please you my love,” I responded.

It was then I heard Shireen moaning. Shit she was playing with herself!

“Greg, you make me so horny,” Shireen continued to rise. “If I was in government, I’d reverse the laws of Kumar and force men to veil and be subservient to woman in this country.”

Shireen’s moaning got more frantic as she came. As soon as she was finished, she slid up on the bed beside me and switched on the TV. The news had just come on and the headline was about me, the English man who had gone missing in Amrac last night. Aalia was interviewed in tears. She was complaining about the police down here doing nothing to find me:

“Is that your girlfriend Greg?” asked Shireen.

“It certainly sounds like Aalia,” I replied. “If you could please remove my blindfold I can confirm it!”

Shireen simply pulled down the silk, leaving me able to see but a mass of soft scarf still wrapped around the lower part of my face.

“I can only tell you Shireen that the Burqa clad female being interviewed on TV sounds like Aalia my girlfriend but I cannot be sure because of the thick black satin shroud that she is wearing,” I explained.

“I suppose you’d like to get home to see her?” Shireen questioned.

“No Shireen, you are the only girl for me now,” I replied, trying to build up Shireen’s confidence because I needed her to free me before I could escape.”

“You’re so nice to me Greg,” responded Shireen, placing another passionate kiss, this time through the soft luxurious silk that covered my lower face. “Umm, I just love kissing you through that silk veil!”

It was then we heard voices and footsteps coming towards Shireen’s room. She quickly pulled the silk scarf over my face, blinding me once again.

“You should be veiled while in his company!” demanded Shireen’s father in a stern voice.

“But father, Greg is blindfolded, manacled and shackled so he can neither see nor touch me,” explained Shireen, trying to get out of the mess she was now in.

I could feel Shireen get off the bed and then the hands of her father testing my bonds.

“Sir I respect your laws in Kumar but if I’m to marry your daughter in a matter of weeks, I need to get to know her,” I tried to defuse the situation.

“You know nothing of our laws in Kumar,” yelled Shireen’s father who started punching me!

“Father, calm down,” screamed Shireen. “You will hurt him!”

“Enough girl,” screamed Shireen’s father.

It was then I heard the first slap and Shireen falling to the floor.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” I started to yell with absolutely no way to offer Shireen any support.

I then felt a kick in my stomach, which sent me flying off the bed. I’d been lying on my side due to the iron hogtie so I’d no way to defend myself. I’d also no way to protect myself as I fell to the floor.

“You are not fit to be in this country never mind marry my eldest daughter,” Shireen’s father yelled even more, kicking me again in the stomach and then once in the head.

I tried to pull away but the link between my ankle chain and the chain between my shackles was too tight, not to mention the silk scarf that covered my entire face.

“You are nothing but English scum,” he continued ranting and kicking.

I could take no more. Shireen was yelling at her father to stop:

“You’re killing him father,” Shireen yelled. “Please stop, you’re killing him!”

He didn’t and as expected, my lights finally went out!

Greg’s recovery was slow!

This time I didn’t come round quickly, it fact I remained unconscious for nearly two weeks but that was at the request of the doctors and staff at the Kumar City central hospital and their drugs that kept me sedated while my body healed. Finally one morning nearly three weeks after the beating that nearly ended my life, the doctors finally reduced the drugs that kept me asleep and therefore allowed me come around in my own good time:

As my eyes opened I had no idea where I was. All I could feel was the pain in my head, arms and legs. It was then I remembered the severe beating that Shireen’s father had given me and how I’d passed out while still shackled hand and foot in Shireen’s bedroom. There was something wrong with my head, it felt tight and it was as if I was wearing a mask because I was looking through two eye holes. I tried to speak but only a muffled groan came out but then I realised that something was stuck in my mouth, preventing me from speaking. I then lifted my hand towards my face. My hand was bare and as I touched my face, I could feel some sort of bandage. I frantically moved around, feeling the rest of my head and it was clear my entire head was covered in a bandage. What the fuck had happened to me? My mouth was next: I could feel a breathing tube sticking out beyond the bandage wrap but it was attached to some sort of plastic mask that covered my nose and mouth. I could then feel the drip tubes passing into the mask and I assumed into my nose. It was then I heard the faint nose:

“Mr Greg, you’re awake!”

I then saw a female figure in a white all-encompassing Burqa approach, grabbing my hand away from my face:

“Please Sir,” demanded the nurse. “Your face is in a mess as you took quite a beating so please leave it alone!”

I tried to talk again but then nothing much came out:

“Please Mr Greg,” the Burqa clad nurse continued. “You cannot speak! Your jaw has been broken in the beating and we’ve immobilised your entire head. Here is a note pad if you want to communicate.”

The nurse handed me a small note pad and a pen, placing it into my right hand. I simple wrote: WHERE AM I, HOW DID I GET HERE & HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN HERE?

“So many questions,” replied the nurse. “You’re in Kumar City Central Hospital. You’ve been here for nearly three weeks and you were brought here in an ambulance from Amrac, where you’d been held prisoner.”

I thought about that for a minute but my head ached and I was slow to recollect what had happened to me before I was beaten to unconsciousness.

“Take it easy Sir,” the nurse knew I was having problems thinking straight. “You’ve really had a bad time of it and you need to get better. I’m going to call your girlfriend and let her know you are awake.”

Girlfriend, shit I thought to myself. I hope the nurse meant Aalia because I never wanted to see Shireen again! I badly wanted to be able to speak so how difficult would it be to remove the bandages that engulfed my head? I again lifted my hands towards my head, searching for something to tug. It was then another Burqa clad nurse came running over, shouting at me in Arabic. I’d no idea what she was saying but as she grabbed my hands, pulling them away from my face I felt the tight grip of leather cuffs securing both wrists to the frame of the bed. The nurse called for assistance because I was clearly getting agitated. Soon my arms and legs were secured in tight leather cuffs, holding me to the bed I’d been lying in for nearly three weeks. They left me alone to gather my thoughts. At one point a nurse arrived to take blood. I hated needles but I had no option but to allow the needle to go in and retrieve the red stuff she wanted for tests. There was little communication because few seemed to speak English. As I lay there waiting for the next interaction, I saw two tents entre my private room talking in Arabic. One was clearly a senior nurse in white and the other was wearing a black all-encompassing Burqa:

“How are you feeling my dear?” came the most welcoming words from Aalia.

Again I could only MUMPTH into the tube that kept me from verbally communicating:

“Take it easy Greg,” suggested Aalia. “You nearly died and the doctors and nurses here in Kumar have worked hard to get you this far.”

I waved my right hand, which was secured to the bed by the leather strap.

“Do you want a pen and paper?” asked Aalia.

I nodded in reply so Aalia handed me the pen and small note pad, which was tough to hold in one hand that was secured via a tight leather cuff to the bed frame: CAN YOU AT LEAST RELEASE MY RIGHT WRIST PLEASE?

“Sorry Greg, no can do,” replied Aalia. “I heard you tried to remove your bandages so the bondage is there for a reason!”

CAN YOU REMOVE YOUR BURQA?

“Hold on and I’ll see,” responded Aalia.

I then heard Aalia talking to one of the nurses and then the sound of the door to my room closing. Aalia then removed her black tent, revealing the gorgeous girl I’d fallen in love with: YOU ARE A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES I wrote as I looked up at the Middle Eastern beauty in a silk blouse and tight blue jeans.

“Do you really mean that Greg,” asked Aalia in a serious voice. “I here you were all set to marry another girl!”

AALIA I WAS KIDNAPPED BY A MAD GIRL AND HER FATHER THEN BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ME I wrote as I panicked!

“I know Greg,” replied Aalia, sitting on the bed beside me. “I heard all about it from Sharon and I was worried sick. The mad girl SHIREEN did save your life by using a tazor on her own father and then calling for the emergency services. I heard how you were manacled and shackled (just how you like it) but I do believe the whole sad episode wasn’t your fault.”

THANK YOU SWEETHEART. YOU ARE THE ONLY GIRL FOR ME!

“That’s really nice to hear Greg,” responded Aalia, planting a kiss on my bandaged covered forehead.

WHAT DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE?

“Quite a lot,” explained Aalia. “Your arms and legs should now be fully recovered from being pulled out of their sockets from the force of the beating while manacled and shackled. Your head took the worst of the beating and I’m afraid your jaw was smashed. The surgeons have repaired it but only time will tell and that’s why your head is covered in bandages.”

HOW LONG WILL I BE HERE?

“I’m not sure Greg,” replied Aalia, “but I will find out.”

WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO SHIREEN AND HER FATHER?

“Shireen‘s father is now in prison awaiting trial,” Aalia continued. “What happens to Shireen is up to you!”

UP TO ME?

“Yes Greg,” Aalia went on to explain. “Shireen wasn’t responsible for your kidnapping. While she wasn’t entirely innocent, she did call for an ambulance so at some time in the next day or two, the judge will come to see you and ask you to either press charges or drop any further action. It is clear that Shireen was badly treated by her father and it was about to get even worse at the hands of her fiancée NAZEER so it is up to you!”

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Aalia just smiled as she read my notes and slowly rubbed her hand on my bandaged covered head:

“I’d probably let the case drop Greg,” she replied. “I do hope that you never want to see her again?”

THAT’S FOR SURE HONEY I wrote in reply.

Over the next few days the nurses released my bonds and I accepted the fact my head would have to remain bandaged. The judge did come to see me and apologised for the situation that nearly killed me. Sharon also appeared with Nicole and she brought me up to speed with the proof of concept. She also explained that the steel masks-of-shame had arrived two weeks earlier and they had been a massive success. The Kumar department of justice were so pleased with the project, they had placed a massive order with my company and my boss was flying out in a few days to sign the contracts. It was therefore not a surprise when a blue Burqa was removed one afternoon to reveal Victoria, my boss:

“Jee Greg, you look shit,” she opened the one-way conversation.

As I picked up a fresh note pad I simply replied: I LOVE YOU TOO VICKY! ARE YOU ENJOYING HAVING TO WEAR THE BURQA?

Victoria just looked down on me:

“I’ve no idea why woman in this country take this shit,” Vicky was clearly pissed off. “I hate wearing this thing but hey-ho, I’m heading back to London on tonight’s flight so all things equal, I’ll be back to normal as soon as I step on that plane!”

SO ARE THE CONTRACTS ALL SIGNED?

“Well despite your kidnapping and near death experience Greg, you’ve done a fantastic job down here,” Victoria went on to explain. “I signed the biggest order in the history of our company this morning and it’s mostly down to you! Your bonus this month will reflect your hard work and the Managing Director has asked me to offer you the position of head of middle east operations. If you accept, we’ll post you in Kumar City for at least the next two years but if you’ve had enough of it here, we will find you an equally fitting promotion back in London.”

I’M HONOURED VICKY I wrote in reply. It was clear what my answer was and after recovering in hospital here in Kumar I would go back to London for a month to make the arrangements for my relocation to Kumar. During Aalia’s next visit, I brought her up to speed and she was delighted that I’d be staying in Kumar:

“Will you stay with me?” she asked.

WILL YOU HAVE ME, I wrote in reply hopping that Aalia would simply allow me to move in with her on a more permanent basis.

 

The days turned into another two weeks as I built up my strength stuck in the Kumar City hospital being tube fed the most horrible gunk I’d ever tasted in my life. I suppose I should be grateful to be alive but I was now getting bored lying in hospital. It was at the end of week seven when the male doctor entered my room:

“It’s time to remove your bandages Greg,” he announced.

Over the next thirty minutes the doctor (assisted by a white Burqa clad nurse) worked on the bandages and therefore the mask that had covered my head for so many weeks:

“Not bad doctor,” praised the nurse.

As the feeding tube finally came out of my mouth, I was able to speak for the first time in weeks:

“Can I see?” were my first words.

The nurse fetched a small mirror and held it up so I could see. I was shocked to see my face was clean shaven just like my head after so many weeks under the bandages. I lifted my hands and my skin felt so smooth:

“Shit, I look ten years younger,” I started to cry.

“Greg, it does look good but I can assure you that you have a long way to go,” explained the doctor. “You will need to protect your face for another month or two, which means I’m going to ask to remain as our guest here in Kumar because I don’t want your face exposed to the dry air in an aircraft.”

I thought about that for a minute while studying my new face:

“Why have I no hair doctor?” I asked.

He just laughed at me:

“We have given you some drugs to ensure your facial and head hair doesn’t grow,” replied the doctor. “We need to give your new face time to recover so I’m going to continue prescribing the drugs for at least three months.”

It was then a black Burqa entered my room:

“Great news Greg, I can take you home,” announced Aalia.

“Not before you learn how to keep Greg’s new face safe,” responded the doctor. “The nurse here will show you both what to do.”

The nurse then appeared back in my hospital room with a large box. She turned towards Aalia:

“Will you help me?” asked the nurse.

“Of course,” replied Aalia as they both opened the large cardboard box.

The first thing they removed from the cardboard box was some long surgical gloves, which were made of the same material as the bandages the doctor had just removed. As I held out my hands, the nurse slipped one glove onto my right hand and Aalia slipped the glove onto my left:

“Hey I can’t move my fingers!” I complained, realising that my fingers and thumbs were now bound tightly together.

“That’s the idea,” responded the nurse. “We’re going to take the care of your face very seriously Greg and we don’t want you fiddling with the protective head covering.

“I don’t think these gloves will be secure enough nurse,” Aalia joined in.

“That’s where this special roll of tape comes in Aalia,” laughed the nurse in reply to Aalia’s concerns.

The nurse then demanded I put my arms behind my back and while I complained bitterly at the ridiculous suggestion, Aalia quickly grabbed both wrists, allowing the nurse to wrap several coils of the special tape around each wrist, binding both behind my back.

“Hey girls, this isn’t fair!” I moaned again.

Both Burqa clad girls laughed as the nurse retrieved the next item from the box. The nurse lifted out a small plastic sealed pouch with a picture of a white balaclava on the packaging. The balaclava was white, just like the F1 racing drivers wear but made from a type of surgical bandage. There was a hole for the mouth and a postage slot to see through.

“Aalia, you will use one of these each day,” explained the nurse. “I’ve left forty in this box but you can get more if needed. If you open the packaging and peal out the mask, you’ll see that it is damp with special ointment to help Greg’s skin recover from the surgery.”

I again moaned as the nurse pulled the extremely tight mask (balaclava) over my head. It was freezing cold and after some tugging, my head was sealed:

“I can’t go outside wearing this!” I continued to complain.

The nurse then looked over at Aalia:

“I agree Greg,” replied the nurse. “I am worried that the mask gets dirty so I recommend that Aalia pulls some tights over your mask to keep it clean underneath.”

Both girls laughed again as Aalia pulled a brand new pair of black tights from her handbag:

“A lady always comes prepared,” she laughed, opening the package.

Aalia pulled the black Lycra material from the packaging and opened out the panty part, before pulling the tights over my bandaged covered head. My vision went dull but the material was thin and I could still see fine:

“Let me fix this,” laughed the nurse as she took hold the empty legs, pulling them behind my head and wrapping them twice around my neck:

“This is worse,” I replied. “If I go outside now, I’ll look like a bank robber!”

“That’s where the Shemagh comes in Greg,” replied Aalia as she pulled what looked like a very long brown scarf from her large handbag. “Loads of men wear these in Kumar Greg so you’ll fit right in and protecting your face at the same time!”

I just sat there with my hands bound behind my back and allowed the two girls to take control of my life:

“You have thought of everything to keep me veiled just like you Aalia,” I teased before getting dressed.

“Greg we have discussed your convalescence in detail with Aalia,” the nurse started to open up. “If it wasn’t for Aalia and her willingness to assist in your healing programme, the doctors wouldn’t be signing you out of the hospital.”

“You couldn’t keep me in here longer than I want to be here,” I sarcastically pushed back on the nurse.

“Under the laws of Kumar we could,” replied the nurse in a matter-of-fact tone. “As our patient we reserve the right to keep you here until we feel you are well enough to go home. If that means holding you against your will or even restraining you, the laws in Kumar allow us to take reasonable action to ensure your compliance.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” I replied as Aalia finished fixing the Shemagh around my face, leaving only my eyes showing.

“You’ve done an excellent job Aalia,” praised the nurse. “Would you like me to release Greg’s hands now?”

“Oh yes please nurse,” I quickly got my say in before Aalia.

The nurse ignored me and turned towards Aalia:

“I don’t think that will be necessary nurse,” replied Aalia. “As you said, Greg needs to look after his new face and therefore it is in his own best interest to ensure it heals so I think I’ll keep his hands where they are; and therefore out-of-reach of his face!”

“Well then, I think you’re now ready to leave Greg!” announced the nurse.

“Here, let me place a jacket over your shoulders Greg,” explained Aalia. “Now no one will know that your naughty little hands are bound out of reach.”

The nurse said goodbye to us and explained that I’d need to return to hospital in two weeks to check on my progress.

“I can’t wait nurse,” I sarcastically replied as Aalia laid me out of the hospital and to her waiting BMW. It was embarrassing working through the hospital with my hands bound behind my back and the Shemagh covering my head. I guessed that I’ve have no option but to get used to this attire as I tried to heal from my ordeal.

As usual, the drive home was in silence except for the odd pointing at men in the street who were also wearing Shemagh:

“You see Greg, you’ll fit into Kumarian culture fine,” whispered Aalia. “Look at all those men wearing a Shemagh?”

I leant over and whispered in response:

“Ah my dearest Aalia, how many are being forced to wear one by their dominant wives or girlfriends?” I whispered in response.

“More than you think,” Aalia replied in a very quiet voice.

We soon arrived back in Aalia’s courtyard. As we entered the house, Aalia removed her Burqa revealing a white blouse, black leather mini-skirt and dark stockings or tights:

“Did you dress like that to get me going Aalia?” I complemented my girlfriend on her appearance.

“Why do you like?” teased Aalia as she approached. “I’d love to kiss you but the Shemagh is going to get in the way!”

“You could always remove it,” I responded, longing for a passionate kiss.

Aalia started to un-wrap the long scarf that hid the masks below.

“That’s an interesting look,” Aalia continued to tease, referring to the tights that covered the white bandage mask below.

“I assume you’re going to take the tights off my head,” I continued to demand more freedom.

“I’m not sure Greg, what’s it worth,” replied Aalia who was clearly in a kinky mood today.

“You’ll get a kiss,” I continued to sell Aalia on the idea of pulling the tights that blurred my world from my head.

I obviously did a good job because Aalia un-wrapped the legs from around my neck and pulled the tights off my head, freeing my mouth to engage hers. It was wonderful to be back home again, even if I was still in this weird country (Kumar). We continued kissing for quite some time until we heard the doorbell ring. Aalia went over to the remote:

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s Sharon and Nicole,” I heard the familiar English accent on the other end of the intercom.

“Hold on a second,” replied Aalia. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Aalia clearly had to put on her Burqa, even if it was for the short trip to the front gate to allow people in that she knew. Aalia was being careful these days not to get caught without her Burqa as the outcome would be severe if she was caught by the authorities. Soon she was covered in the black tent that she’d worn today but then she approached, pulling the tights over my head again:

“Hey, what are you doing Aalia?” I complained as Aalia wrapped the empty legs around my neck.

“Just doing what I can to protect your face,” replied Aalia as she tied off the feet, far too tightly I might add.

Within a few minutes, three Burqa’s arrived back in the large kitchen:

    1. The satin black Burqa was clearly Aalia and she soon removed it, revealing her sexy outfit.

 

    1. The second bright blue Burqa was Sharon. Her long blonde hair was soon free from the tent, revealing a tight pair of blue jeans and tight top, revealing her large globs.

 

  1. The third bright red Burqa must have been Nicole but she said nothing and didn’t attempt to take her tent off.

“Don’t you look fantastic Greg,” announced Sharon as she approached, throwing her arms around me.
“I’d love to return the hug Sharon but I’m a little tied up right now,” I sarcastically responded.

“For your own good,” replied Sharon. “Aalia has told me all about the requirement for you to wear masks continuously so your face can heal from the surgery.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t stretch to keeping my hands tied behind my back,” I continued moaning.

Aalia then turned towards Sharon:

“If you two are staying I’m sure Nicole can take off her Burqa,” suggested Aalia.

“Okay,” replied Sharon. “She is a little bound up underneath, just how she likes it but I’m sure Greg and Nicole can amuse themselves in front of the TV while we prepare a little light lunch.”

With that Sharon pulled Nicole’s bright red Burqa off, revealing a fantastic sight underneath the tent. Nicole was dressed to impress today. She was wearing a multi-coloured outfit of Lycra and PVC. First of all there were the bright blue opaque tights and black PVC straightjacket that kept her arms folded in front. The jacket was tight, very tight and the crotch strap disappeared under a red pleated mini skirt. Nicole arms folded through a built-in loop on front and buckled at the back. It looked wonderful, she looked wonderful but communication was going to be a problem! Nicole’s head was covered in a Lycra hood, just like Sharon and her colleagues wore to work. It had the obligatory twin mesh eyes and an open mouth but today Nicole’s mouth was stuffed with a massive red sponge ball with a leather strap reaching around her head, buckling at the back, just like the rest of her outfit:

“Do you like Nicole’s outfit, teased Sharon?”

“Oh yes Sharon, very much,” I replied. “Could you remove her gag so that we can at least talk to each other?”

“Not a chance,” replied Sharon. “Nicole likes her bondage and until lunchtime, she remains gagged!”

Aalia then led the pair of us through to the living room, where the TV was switched on and MTV selected.

“Enjoy yourselves,” laughed Aalia as she left for the kitchen and lunch.

As we sat on the large leather sofa, Nicole decided to snuggle up to me. She looked up at me, MUMPTHED into her gag then rested her head on my shoulder. I lowered my head and kissed her Lycra covered head:

“Would you like me to try and unbuckle your gag Nicole,” I suggested. “My hands might be bound but if you lower your head towards them, I might be able to unbuckle the strap.”

Nicole looked up at me again and shook her head:

“That’s okay Nicole,” I reassured her.

We continued watching TV and Nicole continued resting her head on my shoulder. It was just over an hour when Sharon and Aalia arrived back in the living room:

“Don’t they look sweet Aalia,” commented Sharon in your Essex accent.

“They sure do,” replied Aalia. “I suppose I need to get those tights off Greg’s head or I can’t feed him?”

“It’s a real pity Aalia,” teased Sharon. “I think they look great on him!”

“I know,” replied Aalia. “I’ll need to find something else to replace those tights going forward. I need to protect the bandage mask so I’ll have to come with something more suitable than just tights.”

“I have an idea,” suggested Sharon. “I keep a spare work mask in my handbag; it would do the job perfectly!”

As we entered the kitchen, Sharon picked out a spare work mask from her hand bag and Aalia un-wrapped the tights from my neck and pulled them from my head. Sharon then pulled the black Lycra mask over my head and after smoothing out the soft Lycra material, she pulled closed the rear zip.

“That’s better,” announced Sharon. “I’ll get more when I’m in work next week and bring them round.”

Aalia thanked Sharon for her generosity and finally Nicole’s gag was removed. It was clear that Sharon and Aalia had already ate because the next thirty minutes was used to feed us:

“Why don’t we go out for a walk Sharon and leave these two here,” suggested Aalia as the final forkfuls of food were shuffled into Nicole’s and my mouth by our respective mistresses?

“That’s a great idea,” replied Sharon. “But what will we do with these two?”

“We can put them in my dungeon,” laughed Aalia in reply.

“That will not be necessary,” I tried to butt in.

“Yeah but it could be fun,” Nicole entered the conversation in her wonderful German accent.

“That’s settled,” explained Aalia as the two girls led Nicole and out to the poolside cell block.

We were pushed into one cell and the inner bars slammed shut. Aalia and Sharon told us to enjoy ourselves before the outer door was locked shut.

“So what do we do now?” asked Nicole.

“Well if you allow me to free your arms from that straightjacket, you could untie my hands,” I replied in a hopeful mood.

“That’s not going to happen Greg,” replied Nicole. “I love this jacket and I don’t want out of it!”

“I guess there is little else to do but sit down on the bunk and get to know each other,” I moved the conversation on.

During the next three hours I heard all about Nicole and how she met Sharon on a Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt to Kumar City three years earlier. Nicole spent the next three days playing with Sharon and after a transfer to Kumarian Airlines; they were able to spend much more time with each other in Kumar City. Nicole explained that she was naturally submissive and being gay, both girls settled down into the perfect lifestyle.

“So Nicole,” I stated to dig a little deeper. “You love having to wear masks in Kumar and you also allow Sharon to keep you tied up most of your free time?”

“That’s correct Greg,” replied Nicole. “I assume that you enjoy the same?”

“There is no hiding the fact I love been tied up and being forced to veil like the girls in Kumar,” I opened up. “I do however enjoy forcing Aalia into veils and keeping her bound!”

“Yeah, Sharon allows me to tie her up regularly,” responded Nicole. “It just seems that I’m the one in our relationship that spends the majority of the time in bondage and veiled, even in the house.”

Nicole and Sharon clearly live a fascinating life and one I’d love to get to know better when I return to Kumar next month on a more permanent basis.

“So Greg,” Nicole really started to dig. “I hear you don’t just like to veil like a girl but you like to dress as a girl?”

“That’s a little personal Nicole,” I responded. “I’m not gay you know?”

“I know you’re straight Greg,” replied Nicole, trying to dig deeper while keeping me calm as the conversation took a turn: “Most guys who cross dress are straight and I’ve always wanted to meet a guy that allows his girlfriend to feminize him.”

“I’m not sure FEMINIZE is the right word,” I went really red behind the Lycra mask. “I so enjoy making Aalia happy and as she loves it when I’m dressed as a girl so therefore I’m cool with that desire of hers because I benefit from it also.”

Nicole and I continued chatting until we heard the outer door open and our two dominant women standing on the other side of the inner bars, without a Burqa or veil.

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” asked Aalia.

“Nicole is good company,” I replied.

“I told you that they’d both still be restrained Aalia,” laughed Sharon. “Nicole loves that jacket and there is no way she’d allow Greg to unbuckle it!”

Both Aalia and Sharon laughed as they opened the bars:

“Time to go home Nicole,” explained Sharon.

We both got up and headed towards the open bars. Like any gentleman, I let Nicole exit the cell first to have the gate slammed in my face:

“Not so fast Mister,” said Aalia in a stern voice. “You and I have a lot to talk about so I’ll be back in ten minutes after saying goodbye to Nicole and Sharon.”

The outer cell door was once again slammed closed and I was sealed inside the cell on my own again. At least my imprisonment only lasted five minutes this time as Aalia soon returned. She entered the cell and sat down on the bunk beside me:

“Greg, I like Sharon and Nicole,” Aalia opened the conversation.

“That’s not what you said when we first met them,” I replied.

“That was then and today is now,” responded Aalia, who clearly had something on her mind. “I’d like to incorporate a little more of their lifestyle into our day-to-day lives.”

“Like what bits?” I questioned.

“I love keeping you bound Greg,” explained Aalia.

“I know you do darling and I guess that’s why my hands are still tied behind my back now,” I teased. “What more do you want from me?”

“Very simple Greg,” Aalia opened her heart. “When we’re at home together, I want you dressed as a girl and restrained in some way.”

“All the time sweetie?” I was shocked at what I was hearing.

“Yes, why not,” responded Aalia who put her arms around me and gave me a kiss through the mouth hole on the mask I was wearing.

I just accepted the very nice kiss and then looked straight at the girl I’d fallen for on the first day of this prolonged holiday.

“I’m not sure if that would work for us,” I replied. “I also like being the man in our relationship. I want to take my girl out and spend time with her like any normal couple. You also enjoy being veiled and bound so if you keep me constantly tied up and veiled, I’d have no chance to return the favour.”

“That’s true Greg but can we find a compromise?” asked Aalia who was clearly thinking about something.

I thought for a minute before responding:

“How about, I agree to do what you want at least two nights a week (after work) and at least one weekend per month,” I started my negotiation? “I then have the opportunity to keep you veiled, masked and bound at least one night a week and one weekend per month?”

Aalia was much quicker to respond:

“Okay, that seems fair but I’d also like to invite Sharon and Nicole into this arrangement,” Aalia continued her negotiation.

“I see no problem with that Aalia,” I set my stall on that one. “I’m happy to involve those two but at no time does this mean you and I getting sexually involved! I’m a simple creature and I can only deal with one female at a time in my life!”

Aalia smiled and held me tight:

“I love you Greg,” she cooed.

“I love you too Aalia,” I responded. “Now be a nice girlfriend and untie my hands?”

Aalia planted another kiss on me and we got rather excited before leaving the cell and heading back to her bedroom to make love. During our passion, my arms were finally freed and I spent the rest of my first night home from hospital in my lovers bed, with my hands free but my head still covered in the thick bandage that not only veiled me but protected the skin below as I healed from the beating I’d taken at the hands of Shireen’s father.

 

Greg’s Holiday in Kumar Comes to an end:

My first full day of convalescence at Aalia’s set a new routine as I neared the end of my holiday in Kumar. Each day started with Aalia helping me get rid of the bandage mask that covered my entire head. It slipped easily from my skull but I couldn’t get used to the bald head below. I had a good head of hair and looking at myself in the mirror each morning just wasn’t right. There was one benefit to these drugs that kept me bald; I no longer had to shave, which took at least ten minutes off my daily routine each morning. As soon as I was clear of the shower and completely dry, Aalia took great pleasure in pulling the fresh bandage mask over my head. She said I looked good under the mask but I guess she was just turned on at the simple fact I was having to veil like her! Next I got dressed and like most mornings (not all), Aalia had selected a female outfit for me to wear. On that first morning (like most), I slipped into a pair of silky smooth pants and a bra (both black) the black opaque tights normally followed and finally a skirt and blouse or a dress. On the first Monday of my convalescence, I was wearing a black skirt and red silk blouse with the obligatory black Lycra work mask that Sharon had given me on my first day out of the hospital. I had gotten used to the mesh eye coverings and the wonderful soft female clothing when Sharon arrived on her way home from work. I had been sitting on the sofa in the living room when Aalia and Sharon entered:

“Doesn’t he look cute in that skirt and blouse Aalia,” teased Sharon as she entered the living room? “Nicole has said she would love to spend some time with Greg when he’s cross dressed!”

“I bet she would,” replied Aalia in a slightly jealous tone. “He does look cute but he’s mine!”

“He sure is Aalia,” replied Sharon. “Anyway, the judge heard all about your situation Greg and she has issued you with ten work masks. She also explained that she may pop round to visit you, especially as you’ve agreed to stay in Kumar on a semi-permanent basis.”

“That will be nice,” I sarcastically responded.

Aalia made some tea and coffee and the three of us sat chatting for an hour.

“So how is Nicole?” I asked.

“She’s fine Greg, thank you,” replied Sharon. “She is in the States at the moment on a long haul. I hope to see her back on Friday night as we’ll have a whole weekend together.”

“Nicole was telling me last week when we were forced to spend some time together in the cell, that you also enjoy bondage Sharon,” I started to get personal.

“What’s your point Greg,” asked Aalia. “Is that not getting a little personal?”

“I suppose it is darling but I think Sharon might like to spend some time in your cell block with the girl she loves,” I continued. “How about you bring her around on Saturday afternoon Sharon and allow Aalia and I play a little trick, which will get the pair of you some jail time?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” laughed Aalia. “Are you up for that Sharon?”

That all agreed, Sharon headed off home for the evening.

“I think it is time I put you into a little bondage Greg,” smiled Aalia who returned to the living room with a pair of handcuffs hanging from her right hand.

“If you insist,” I teased, standing up and turning around to allow Aalia to lock my hands behind my back.

“You’re being very cooperative tonight Greg,” praised Aalia as she spun me around and kissed me on the lips.

“Why not,” I replied. “I love being your little sissy slave as it almost always ends up in the most fantastic sex!”

Aalia just laughed and pushed me down on the couch before we kissed passionately for at least another fifteen or twenty minutes.

As with most evenings now, Aalia fed me while I remained handcuffed. She enjoyed being in charge and my first week of convalescence ended much the same as most nights, in bed with Aalia and I making lov into the wee small hours.

 

Saturday was to be special as Sharon and Nicole were coming around. Today I was dressed in the usual black bra, pants and Lycra tights but Aalia had persuaded me to slip into a tight red sweater dress that barely covered my arse. She said that it complemented my black legs and head. Aalia however wore the black leather mini skirt and white blouse that I loved so much. She wore black tights this time and head a long black silk scarf wrapped around her neck in a tight band, allowing the ends to fall half-way down her back. She looked gorgeous and she knew it. Shortly after lunch Aalia persuaded me into a prison set of handcuffs and leg irons. The chain was long enough to allow me a certain amount of freedom but my hands were still pinned behind my back, just the way Aalia liked it and I suppose my favourite loose bondage position.

When Sharon and Nicole finally arrived and there Burqa’s were removed, both were wearing tight black mini dresses. Nicole’s hands were handcuffed behind her back, just like mine except she had no leg irons attached:

“You look better in a dress than I even imagined Greg,” cooed Nicole as she stood right in front of me.

“He’s mine,” Aalia butted in. “Anymore remarks like that and you’ll end up spending some time in my jail cells!”

“I was only being nice to him,” replied Nicole. “I’ve always wanted a man in a dress with his hands out of reach!”

That was enough for Aalia, who marched Nicole out to the pool side cell block and locked her in one of the dark cells. I followed slowly (as fast as the chains would allow) to find Aalia locking Sharon’s hands behind her back in a pair of hinged handcuffs:

“Are the comfortable Sharon?” asked Aalia in a sympathetic tone.

“Are they supposed to be comfortable Aalia?” teased Sharon in reply as she tested the tightness of the cuffs.

“I suppose not,” responded Aalia as she led Sharon to the cell that held Nicole.

“We have a little friend for you Nicole,” teased Aalia as Sharon was pushed inside. “Enjoy yourselves and don’t do anything that I wouldn’t! Sorry I forgot your hands are both cuffed so I doubt you’ll be doing much.”

With that Aalia slammed closed the inner bars, followed be the outer cell door.

“How long will we leave them in there?” I asked as we headed back to the main house.

“I’m sure they could cope with an entire evening and night in the cell Greg,” replied Aalia.

My afternoon remained fairly uninteresting as I sat around the house, dressed as a girl with my hands and ankles cuffed. At around seven, Aalia freed my hands and feet and after we had eaten, we brought both prisoners back to the main house and fed them:

“You can’t keep us like this!” complained Sharon.

“Are you not enjoying yourselves?” I teased.

“It would be better if we were free of the cuffs.”

“I’m sure it would” responded Aalia. “There are still loads you can do when you both are handcuffed, you just have to use your imagination!”

We popped them back in the cell after dinner and just before bedtime we returned to see both girls cuddled up on the small cell buck with their hands still cuffed behind their backs.

“Would you like to lose the cuffs?” asked Aalia as we stood behind the locked inner bars.

Both girls were over to the bars in a shot so Aalia and I freed them both. We said our goodnights and then we left Sharon and Nicole locked in the tiny cell for the rest of the night. When we finally let them out on Sunday, both were happy to be free but really seemed to enjoy their time in captivity.

About a week after, the judge finally came around. As she pushed the buzzer and Aalia answered:

“Hold on your honour, I’ll be there in a second,” Aalia responded to the red Burqa standing outside the entrance of her walled home.

“Honey the judge can’t see me wearing this dress,” I panicked, referring to the short sleeved satin summer dress Aalia had persuaded me into today.

“You go upstairs and I’ll let the judge in Greg,” Aalia seemed happy for me to get dressed in my own male cloths while she pulled on a bright blue satin Burqa to welcome the judge into her home.

I therefore slipped upstairs and quickly removed the dress. I wasn’t worried about the black opaque tights Aalia had given me to wear, nor the silk pants but I did remove the black padded bra, before slipping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading back downstairs, with my head still covered in the black Lycra work mask that protected the bandage mask below:

“Great to see you’re up and about Greg,” greeted the judge.

“Thank you your honour,” I replied bowing my head in this presence of this senior Kumarian official. “I hear the pilot went well and you’re now going into full project roll-out.”

“That’s correct Greg,” responded the judge who by now was sitting on a chair by the large kitchen table while Aalia made tea and coffee. “Your new metal design for the mask-of-shame has also been so successful, I’m about to place an order for 1,000 units.”

“I haven’t seen the finished article your honour,” I explained.

“I have one in the car, hold on and I’ll ask my driver to bring one in,” replied the judge who now got up to retrieve a steel mask-of-shame.

By the time the judge in her bright red Burqa finally returned, Aalia had placed the tea and coffee on the kitchen table. The judge handed me the brightly polished stainless steel mask:

“It really does look exceptional your honour,” I explained. “I designed this over the phone so there is bound to be some improvements that I could make.”

I opened the mask, which hinged from the left hand side, closing around the head and locking on the right hand side:

“This is the version without the built in gag,” I commented.

“Yes Greg,” replied the judge. “The gag you designed screws into the mask from the inside so once the mask is locked on the wearers head, they can’t remove the gag.”

The mesh eyes looked evil and they were silver to match the stainless steel finish. Despite the mask being metal, it was surprisingly lightweight. I held the mask up to my head to see what it would be like to wear:

“Go on Greg, try it on,” suggested the judge.

I lifted the mask away from my head and smiled at the judge.

“Go on Greg, try it on,” Aalia entered the conversation.

“Hold on a second until I remove this Lycra mask,” I responded, setting the steel mask on the table while I removed the thin Lycra mask I’d been wearing all day.

As soon as my head was free of the Lycra work mask, I lifted the stainless steel mask-of-shame to my face. I pushed my face into the mask and positioned it correctly, aligning my open mouth and the two mesh coverings with both my eyes. I held the rear piece, ensuring the mask didn’t lock shut:

“This is excellent,” I complemented myself on the design. “It is very lightweight and yet if I close the back, I’d have no way to remove it.”

Aalia stood up and placed her hands on the cold steel:

“It looks awesome your honour,” she complemented.

“They have proved very successful Aalia,” the judge continued. “There is around fifty out there in general circulation and the GPS receiver tells us exactly where all are at any given moment.”

“Have any ever gone missing or been removed?” I asked.

“Not yet,” replied the judge” “We warn those wearing them that if they are found tampering with the mask, they will automatically receive a three-month sentence locked inside the mask.”

“I wonder what that would be like,” teased Aalia as she played with the mask, which was still loosely held on my head.

It was then she pressed the two ends, causing the locking mechanism to engage with a spine chilling CLICK!

“What are you doing honey?” I panicked.

“Don’t panic sweetheart,” responded Aalia. “I’m sure the judge has a key on her.”

“Actually I don’t Aalia,” explained the judge. “We have strict rules about keys going into general circulation but if you bring Greg over to the courthouse in the morning, I’m sure we can unlock the mask.”

“You mean that I’m stuck in this thing until tomorrow?” I continued to panic.

Both Aalia and the judge started laughing.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” the judge continued laughing while holding a cup of tea under her Burqa.

“I know he will survive your honour,” replied Aalia. “I think it is good that Greg experiences his own creation.

After another half-hour, the judge said her goodbye’s and left Aalia and I to enjoy the rest of our afternoon.

“Could you not take me over to the courtroom now?” I asked.

“No chance,” laughed Aalia! “I actually like the mask so go upstairs and put your dress on again!”

There was no point complaining as I headed back upstairs, wearing the stainless steel mask-of-shame to take off my male cloths and to put the satin summer dress I’d been wearing all day so far. When I finally returned to the kitchen Aalia was just hanging up the phone:

“I’ve just spoken to Sharon honey,” explained Aalia. “She said if we go over around ten in the morning, then she’ll unlock the mask.”

“I suppose that’s good,” I replied sarcastically.

“Well she did demand that you wore a Burqa and came dressed as a girl,” replied Aalia who by now was free of her Burqa and smiling from cheek to cheek.

“How could it get any worse,” I moaned in response as I tried to pull the stainless steel mask from my head, which obviously was a pointless task, especially as I designed the bloody thing in the first place!

“She could force you to wear the mask for much, much longer!” laughed Aalia in reply.

“And I bet you’d love that?” I came straight back.

Aalia just smiled and approached rubbing her hands all over the stainless steel mask that was now secured around my head.

“Since you’re now officially my little sissy prisoner until tomorrow when I take you to the court house to see Sharon, let’s get you into some more appropriate female clothing and bondage,” teased Aalia as she continued to tease.

I was therefore led upstairs and into the spare room:

“What to get you to wear today?” Aalia continued to tease as she rummaged through the wardrobe.

“Honey, I’m not sure this is possible” I started to have an idea.”

“What?” responded Aalia as she turned away from the wardrobe to face me.

“Do you have a straightjacket,” I asked? “I’ve never tried one and Nicole’s really looked interesting!”

“Of course I have a straightjacket,” replied Aalia as she rummaged some more until she found what she was looking for: “How about this straightjacket dress?”

Aalia had pulled a long black dress from her collection. I could see the arms were a lot long with leather straps hanging loose.

“Umm, that looks interesting,” I replied.

“Okay Greg, go-a-head and slip into a bra and I’ll get this ready for you,” explained Aalia as she started fiddling with the dress.

I went straight to where I’d dropped the black satin padded bra earlier. Once ready I walked up to Aalia, who was still sorting out the dress for me to wear:

“Okay dearest,” Aalia started to explain the process.” This dress is made of a special type of stretchy material that is much heavier and stronger than Lycra. I’ve opened the dress at the back via the rear zip but as you pull it on, you’ll need to negotiate the built in bodice and therefore find the two holes for your legs. This means there will be no way for you to pull the dress over your head once sealed inside.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” I responded as I started to step into the tight dress and pull my arm into the never-ending sleeves.”These sleeves are very tight!”

“Ah, you’ve just found the wrist cuffs,” Aalia continued to explain. “If you pop your hands through, you‘ll find you fingers sealed within built in gloves that hold your fingers tight together.”

Aalia was correct! Both hands were now held immobile inside tight gloves. This meant she had to now help me into the rest of the dress so Aalia pulled the tight stretchy material over my body until the high collar met the thick neck of my stainless steel mask-of-shame. Aalia then tugged at the rear zip until it was all the way up, pulled the dress even tighter around my body.

“You’ll now realise Greg that this dress has a built in corset,” laughed Aalia.

“I should have thought of that before offering to wear it,” I laughed.

Now that I was sealed inside the tight dress, Aalia used the leather buckle on the collar to close the dress about my neck:

“Right fold each arm,” requested Aalia from behind.

As soon as I complied, Aalia soon had both arms puled very tight as she spun me around:

“This is a little different from the average straightjacket,” laughed Aalia as she kept tugging on my arms. “The leather straps buckle at the front so here we go.

Aalia kept tugging at my self-induced hug until both my right and left arm buckles were tightly secured. The final strap was also on the front of the dress and it looped around my folded arms heading them even tighter and ensuring there was no way I could pull be arms other my head.

“How does that feel Greg?” asked Aalia who was now standing in front of me, admiring her handy work.

“Umm, really tight and safe,” I teased in response. “What do I get if I escape from this dress?”

Aalia just started to laugh again:

“There is no way on this earth you are going to get out of this dress,” she continued to joke. “Let’s however make this interesting. If you can escape, you get to keep me prisoner all next weekend but if you don’t escape, I get you to wear the dress again tomorrow when we go over to the courthouse.”

“What choice do I have?” I replied.

“Not a lot,” laughed Aalia. “So that deal is all set so let’s take you over to the cell block and pop you in somewhere safe to try and make your escape from my dress.”

“You said nothing about me spending the rest of the afternoon in one of your cells,” I complained.

“And again, what say do you have on the matter?” laughed Aalia as she started to drag me towards the poolside cell block.

The dress was very tight around the legs so my trip to the poolside cell block was more of a hobble but soon Aalia had me locked inside one of her cells so I could now begin my attempts to escape the bondage dress. Within minutes off entering the cell, I was sweating from my efforts to escape the straightjacket dress. The harder I tried the more frustrated I got. How the hell could a simple dress hold me so tight? There was also the stainless mask-of-shame that was stuck on my head until tomorrow morning but the way things were going right now, I’d be wearing this dress tomorrow to see Sharon at the court house. I struggled for a while, then rested for a while. At one point the outer cell door opened and Aalia popped her head inside:

“I see you’re still wearing the dress,” she laughed. “Will you now accept that it is escape proof?”

“No fucking way,” I grunted in reply. “I’m going to get out of this fucking thing if it kills me!”

“Suit yourself,” responded Aalia who slammed the outer door shut and left me to continue my struggles.”

I fought on for another hour or two before Aalia returned:

“Do you give up Greg?” asked Aalia as she approached the bars with a tray of food.

“I suppose I’ll have to,” I replied. “I have to say that this dress is fantastic and I’ now looking forward to having to wear it tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear that Greg,” Aalia smiled from cheek to cheek. “I’ve brought you dinner.”

I was broken so I gave in and Aalia soon entered the cell to start the process of releasing me from the bondage dress.

“What shall I wear now?” I teased as I finally stepped out of the tight dress.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” replied Aalia who by now was exiting the cell and locking me inside once again.

“Hey sweetheart, why are you leaving me in here?” I called out.

Aalia ignored me and shut the outer door. I therefore sat there on my own eating dinner through the hole on the mask-of-shame that was too small to push an average sized fork of food through. Dinner was therefore a slow process! She finally arrived back at the bars to collect he tray:

“Here Greg, you can wear this Burqa if you get cold tonight,” explained Aalia as she handed me a thick black cloth Burqa and I handed her the empty tray.

“I guess I’m spending the night in here,” I replied in a tone that told Aalia that I’d given up all hope of spending the night in her bed.

“I’m not sharing my bed with you while you’re wearing that mask,” Aalia set the scene for me. “I’ll come a get you first thing and we can get you ready for the trip into Kumar City. Since you enjoyed the straightjacket dress so much, I think you should wear it all day!”

With that scene left in my mind, Aalia was off and I was left to spend the night alone in her cells. I pulled on the Burqa and climbed into bed to see if I could get any sleep while wearing it. All that happened is that I got very Horney and masturbated several times until sleeping naked was the only option.

The next morning finally came and some freedom to head back to the house for a shower. I had to use the shower head to clean my body because soaking the stainless steel mask would only get messy but it made make me think about what having to wear the mask-of-shame for long periods of time would mean for keeping clean. Soon I was dressed in a fresh pair of pants, bra and tights before stepping into the tight bondage dress and once again giving over my freedom to my gorgeous girl fired for a second day:

“Since you didn’t wear the black Burqa last night, it will do the job today,” explained Aalia as she pulled the heavy material over the mask-of-shame and fixed the cloth around my ankles before getting dressed herself:

“We’ll get brunch in town after you’re free of the mask,” explained Aalia as she called her driver to take us into Kumar City.

After entering the courthouse and waiting at reception for ten minutes, Sharon finally appeared in her court uniform:

“Hello you two,” she greeted us both. “Follow me and we’ll sort out Greg’s little problem!”

We followed Sharon into my office, which was a disused cell:

“As you can see Greg, you’re office is just how you left it,” Sharon continued. “Is he wearing a dress Aalia?”

“He sure is,” responded Aalia as she pulled the heavy black Burqa off.”

“My, my,” laughed Sharon. “He does look good in that dress. He looks so snug and tight!”

“He’ll be snug and tight in that dress all day Sharon,” explained Aalia who started to tell Sharon all about my attempts to escape.

Sharon just kept laughing as she approached with a special key to the mask-of-shame:

“Is that the key?” I asked.

“It sure is,” replied Sharon as she held it up for me to see. “Your company has only produced a small amount and each key has its’ very own serial number. We protect them because we cannot afford any keys to be lost outside the department or we end up having to recall all Masks for reprogramming.”

“I’m sure there has to be another way,” I explained. “I think I’ll call Vickie next week and see if we can develop an upgrade with an electronic system that may even incorporate the GPS.”

“That sounds very interesting Greg,” replied Sharon as she slotted the special key into the corresponding hole on the mask. “Now this special key slots into a mechanism so once engaged, I can turn the key, which then pulls back all the little locking beads that surround the seam of the mask.”

Finally the stainless steel mask of shame hinged open:

“Oh that’s better,” I thanked Sharon for unlocking the mask. “If I could just get rid of this other mask and the dress I’d really be free!”

Sharon just started to laugh again:

“Nicole has a leather straightjacket and I’ve kept her in it for thirty hours straight,” explained Sharon. “She was a wreck when I finally let her out of the cage and jacket but it was a lot of fun!”

“I bet it was for you!” I sarcastically replied.

Sharon then turned towards Aalia:

“Do you have one of our work masks with you Aalia?” asked Sharon.

“Shit, I forgot,” replied Aalia.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll go and get a fresh one,” Sharon said as she disappeared out of my office (cell).

Within ten minutes, Sharon had returned with a fresh Lycra work mask. She unzipped the rear and pulled it over my head, before pulling the zip back down and smoothing out the tight Lycra under the collar of my bondage dress. Aalia then fitted the heavy black Burqa over my head where my vision was reduced even more due to two mesh coverings over my eyes. With that all done, we thanked Sharon and headed out into the hot Kumarian morning for some breakfast:

“How am I going to eat,” I asked Aalia as we sat down at an outside table in the main square.

“I’m going to feed you Greg; don’t worry,” replied Aalia as she ordered some coffee and bagels.

We continued chatting as we waited for our food to arrive. It was strange because I no longer worried about being outside cross dressed anymore! The Burqa provided me with a safety blanket I needed and kept me hidden like all the other females in this weird country. I’d soon be going back to England so my fetish would have to be put on hold again:

“Aalia, will you miss me when I go back to England?” I asked.

Aalia just sat there, staring straight at me:

“You’re only going to be gone a month Greg, aren’t you?” Aalia questioned.

“That’s the plan,” I replied. “As long as it takes to make all he arrangements required to set-up the Middle East office in Kumar and of course find a way to rent out my flat so that I at least make a little extra on the side.”

Aalia then paused again:

“I could of course come back to London with you,” she suggested.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” I responded. “I plan to start working again tomorrow so I’ll make an appointment for you to pop along to the British embassy in Kumar City to apply for a visa.”

That all agreed, our breakfast arrived and Aalia started feeding me in between feeding herself:

“This is a little embarrassing,” I complained. “It is one thing being fed by you when we’re behind closed doors Aalia but it’s really something else out here in the open.”

“Stop moaning Greg or I’ll make you go shopping with me!” Aalia came straight back at me.

“You’ll probably make me go shopping anyway,” I sarcastically replied. “You love it that I’m dressed as a girl below this Burqa and you’ll do whatever you can to keep me this way as long as you can.”

Aalia just laughed:

“You know me so well honey,” replied Aalia. “Now that we’re finished breakfast we can go shopping!”

And that’s how I spent the rest of that morning. Aalia dragged me around shop after shop after shop in Kumar City. I was struggling to walk in the tight hobble dress and with my arms folded in front I was kept permanently frustrated under the heavy black Burka, that meant I slowly cooked like a boil in the bag piece of meat. It was mid-afternoon when Aalia finally called for her driver to pick us up. I was therefore so glad to be off my feet and on my home to the relative comfort of the air-conditioned house. I knew that I’d not be free of the bondage dress until much later but I did hope that Aalia would at least remove the heavy black Burqa. Once back at her house and in the cool air of the kitchen, Aalia removed her Burqa but left mine in place:

“Come on sweetheart, please at least remove the Burqa,” I pleaded? “I’ve been cooking in it all morning!”

“Stop your moaning Greg or I’ll put you in a rubber Burqa before locking you in a cell and turning off the A/C,” replied Aalia is a serious voice.

“You’re such a cruel girlfriend when you’ve got me all tied up,” I sarcastically continued my complaining.

“Right, that’s enough,” responded Aalia who now dragged me out of the kitchen, past the pool and then inside the cell block. “I’ll show you what a real Burqa is like!”

Aalia then approached her cupboard of goodies and removed an enormous mass of thick black rubber.

“Come on sweetie,” I tried to get out of this. “You don’t have to be so cruel!”

Aalia ignored me as she pulled the black cloth Burqa from me and then without a word, yanked the extremely heavy rubber over my head, pulling the rubber Burqa down until it reached my feet:

“Right come with me boy,” she demanded before pushing me into the same cell I spent last night in.

With me standing just inside the cell, I watched as the bars slammed closed, followed by the outer door and finally I heard the sound of the air conditioning shutting down. If I felt hot now under the weight of the heavy rubber Burqa how would I feel in a couple of hours? One thing was clear, I was about to find out! To try and keep sane, I sat on the small cell bunk and did little to use up any energy and therefore make my situation even worse. Aalia did this to me some months back when I was forced to spend hours inside this very cell wearing a leather bondage dress. This however was much, much worse! The straightjacket dress was heavy in itself and then there was the thick bandage mask that covered my entire head except my eyes and mouth. If that wasn’t bad enough, I was wearing the Lycra work mask to seemingly protect the bandage. This Lycra mask had an open mouth but the eye holes were covered in thin mesh to protect the female wearer’s modesty. And then there was the extremely heavy rubber Burqa! Even as I sat in the heat of the afternoon in Kumar, no air moved around the cell. Yes I started to sweat and I just couldn’t stop! There was also the need to take a piss. I hadn’t been to the bathroom since before going out this morning and there was no way I could even get to my penis at the moment, never mind direct him towards the toilet. My discomfort therefore built as I sat waiting for Aalia to return. BY the time she did finally come for me, I was in shock! The pain in my bladder was unbearable and I was soaking under the rubber Burqa:

“Are you still alive in there?” asked Aalia as she opened the outer cell door.

She was referring to the fact that I continued to lay there, on the cell bunk, motionless!

“Are you okay Greg?” she asked again, this time unlocking and opening the inner bars.

“Not really, I whispered in reply. “I’m cooking in here and I very, very, very badly need to take a piss.

“Okay, sit up and we can fix that,” replied Aalia as she helped me to sit and then to stand.

As my feet hit the floor, Aalia pulled the now very sticky rubber Burqa from my soaking dress below:

“I think you’re a little over cooked!” laughed Aalia.

“You don’t say,” I whispered sarcastically in response, urging Aalia to release my arms so that I could escape the dress.

With some difficulty, Aalia some had me out of the dress and excused herself to go and put on the A/C to cool down the cell. As she slipped out, she pulled the inner bars closed but left the outer door open. As I took my well-earned pee, I could feel the cold air from the A/C finally starting to circulate inside the cell. My underwear was drenched and I had to get out of the bra, pants and tights. I was therefore completly naked by the time Aalia returned:

“Here throw this on,” she called out from the other side of the bars before handing me another Burqa, the black one I’d worn out this morning.

“Do I have to wear this?” I asked.

“Not if you don’t want to Greg,” replied Aalia. “However you will get cold in there in a minute or two!”

“You’re not leaving me in here again are you,” I pleaded to be allowed to head over the main house and take a shower.

After some persuasion, Aalia granted me my freedom and we walked back to the house so that I could get rid of my head covering and take a long hot shower. As I exited the ensuite, Aalia was waiting for me with a fresh bandage mask, which was cool with ointment as she pulled it over my head:

“I want us to have a little fun tonight,” suggested Aalia.

“Do you not mean,” I sarcastically replied. “You want to have some fun tonight and I’m resigned to suffering some more?”

“Come on Greg, where is your spirit of adventure?” replied Aalia as she led me naked (except for the fresh bandage mask and a towel around my waist) back into the bedroom. “I’ve led out some new cloths for you.”

As I entered the bedroom, I was shocked at what Aalia wanted me to wear:

“You don’t expect me to wear that,” I started to panick, as I looked at the white satin frilly sissy dress that hung from the wardrobe handle.

“You’ll look lovely in it!” laughed Aalia.

I accepted my fate as I’d done so many times before since coming to Kumar all those months ago. First of all I had to negotiate the underwear, which consisted of a white silk pair of pants, white bra and then a full white Lycra body stocking with straps so it didn’t include sleeves. I pulled on the white pants, followed by the silk padded bra:

“Here Greg, pop these in the cups,” suggested Aalia as she handed me two large gel pads to fill out the bra cups.

“Um, thanks, I suppose,” I replied as I looked as the two mounds now sticking out from my chest.

Next I sat down to pull on the white opaque body stocking. It was luxurious and  I eased my feet into each foot before pulling up the soft cotton and Lycra material until I pulled both straps over my shoulders.

“Very nice!” Aalia continued to tease me.

“Easy for you to say, you’re a girl!” I grumped in reply.

Next Aalia opened the rear of the dress and handed it to me. I stepped into the puffed out skirt and pulled the smooth satin material over my torso and up my body, before pushing both arms through the short sleeved holes.

“Hold on pet, I’ll get the zip,” suggested Aalia as she pulled on the rear zip.

The high neck then popped up and as Aalia pulled the zipper into place, the tightness of the collar was apparent as Aalia tugged until she was happy.

“That’s better,” Aalia panted as she picked up the next two items, a pair of long silk opera gloves for each arm.

Without a complaint, I slipped each arm into the soft material until each finger entered the fingers of each glove:

“These feel good,” I said as I finished pulling on the second opera glove.

“I’m glad you like them Greg,” replied Aalia as she approached to give me a kiss. “Oh I nearly forgot this!”

Aalia then picked up the last item from the bed, a very, very long white silk scarf, which she started wrapping around my head, leaving only the eye slit in the bandage mask open for me to see through:

“I’m still missing something,” explained Aalia. “Oh yes, stupid me; shoes!”

Aalia then picked out a pair of high heeled pumps from the wardrobe and place each of my feet into each shoe. It wasn’t a surprise that once strapped on, a tiny padlock was used to secure then onto each foot, ensuring they were not coming off without her say-so.

“Right now for your arm bondage tonight,” explained Aalia as she picked up a white leather arm binder.

After being instructed to fold my arms behind my back, Aalia wrapped the open lined leather around my folded arms and then began the task of securing the buckles until my arms were fused together, folded behind my back.

“I was going to secure your ankles but I think I’ll leave them,” laughed Aalia as she stood back to admire her work!

I looked at myself in the mirror and only saw a scarf veiled female in white satin and silks staring back:

“Not bad,” I laughed. “What now?”

“I’m glad you asked that Greg,” replied Aalia with a smile on her face. “We’re going over to Sharon and Nicole’s for diner.”

“Oh no Aalia,” I pleaded. “Not like this!”

“Yes like this,” replied Aalia as she pulled the black Burqa over my head.

I had no option but to wait on Aalia who now headed to get changed herself. Once Aalia returned, she was already covered head to toe in her all-encompassing bright blue satin Burqa.

“Right, let’s go,” she announced as I was directed outside to her BMW with the driver waiting.

It was only a ten minute car ride to Sharon’s and Nicole’s place. Once there Sharon met us at the door, wearing a bright red Burqa:

“Oh its’ only you two,” welcomed Sharon in her broad Essex accent. “If I’d known it was you two, I wouldn’t have worn this bloody thing,” Sharon continued as we headed inside and she removed her Burqa revealing a tight black Channel mini dress.

“Fuck you look really cute tonight,” I teased as Aalia led me inside.

That got me a dig in the ribs by Aalia’s elbow:

“Thank you Greg, that’s really nice of you,” replied Sharon with a smile from ear to ear.

Now it was Aalia’s turn to remove her Burqa. I was even more pleasantly surprised to see Aalia all dressed up tonight in very short red satin mini dress over black opaque leggings:

“Fuck me Aalia, you also look gorgeous tonight,” I tried to dig myself out of the tiny hole I’d dug for myself.

“I’m glad you like Greg,” Aalia paraded around in front of me.

Nicole then entered the room wearing a tight black leather dress (with a built in leather hood with open eyes and a mouth), over black tights and extremely high healed, knee high leather boots. Her arms were obviously bound behind her back. The dress also had a built in corset sand was clearly laced very tight if Nicole’s tiny waist was anything to go by.

“Do I look sexy tonight Greg,” teased Nicole as she twirled in front of me, clearing showing the built in arm binder that held both arms bound tightly together behind her back.

“Yes Nicole, I like your outfit the best,” I laughed. “It’s much more interesting than the other two!”

That got me another dig in the ribs before Nicole asked Aalia to remove my Burqa.

“Fuck he looks good in a dress,” laughed Nicole from behind her leather mask.

“Umm, also feels great,” cooed Sharon as she rubbed her hands over the satin dress that covered my body and then the silk scarf that veiled my face and over the white bandage mask that protected my head.

“Hey that’s not fair,” complained Nicole. “I can’t feel!”

Aalia started to get agitated:

“Hey you two; Greg’s my boyfriend,” she piped up! “The only person that gets to touch is me!”

Aalia then started to rub her hands all over my satin covered body:

“You’re right Sharon, he is good to touch,” laughed Aalia.

I was then led into the lounge area, Sharon in front, Aalia behind Sharon and then Nicole behind me.

“I see you’re also bound,” Nicole continued the conversation.

“No kidding Sherlock,” I sarcastically replied. “I thought that having these massive jugs pushed forwards and the district lack of hands would be a slight give-a-way!”

“Now, now Greg, don’t be cheeky” replied Sharon “or I’ll have to lock you in Nicole’s cage!”

Aalia then stopped.

“Could we lock them both in the cage,” she asked Sharon.

“We might be able to Aalia,” replied Sharon. “Let’s see!”

I nervously followed Sharon and Aalia as I was led into a spare bedroom but instead of a bed in the small room, a large cage stood empty, with an open door. Nicole led the way into the cage and with some coxing, I followed. The cage door was then closed my Sharon and the lock engaged automatically.

“Shall we go and have a glass of wine Aalia,” suggested Sharon. “Don’t you two go anywhere?”

“Can we trust them Sharon?” asked Aalia.

“Of course we can Aalia,” replied Sharon. “Their hands are well and truly bound so I think they’ll be safe”

As the two girls left the spare room and closed the door behind them, Nicole sat down in the corner of the large cage that took up the entire bedroom.

“I assume you’ve spent plenty of time in her Nicole,” I opened the conversation.

“Yeah, you could say that Greg,” replied Nicole.

I then manoeuvred myself down onto my arse beside the leather clad Nicole. We chatted for around an hour before Sharon came back for us. We were led out of the cage and into the dining area of the large open planned kitchen where we sat down at the table. Aalia then unwrapped the very long white silk scarf from my head and hung it over the chair after folding it into several long strands. Sharon and Aalia then fed Nicole and I. The process took a little longer than normal but as soon as we finished the last mouthful, Sharon suggested we should be put back in the cage.

“Please Sharon, you don’t need to put us back in there,” I tried to get out of the inevitable.

“Great idea Sharon,” Aalia joined in.

We were then led towards the spare bedroom and the large cage.

“Hold on Sharon,” Aalia stopped Sharon closing the cage door. “I forgot Greg’s head scarf.”

“I’ll live without it honey!” I sarcastically replied.

“I’ve no doubt you could Greg,” Aalia sarcastically replied. “I think you look better with it though.”

I’d no option but to stand and wait on Aalia returning with the extremely long white silk scarf, which soon as re-wrapped around my head but this time it covered my eyes.

“Cone on Aalia!” I can’t see now.

“Stop moaning or I’ll pull it into your mouth and gag you too,” replied Aalia.

I then heard the cage door close and Nicole’s voice directing me to sit down beside her.

“Do you enjoy being forced to wear girl’s cloths as well as being veiled and bound?” asked Nicole.

“I do Nicole but I also like being in charge and returning the wonderful experience to Aalia,” I replied. “I’m not naturally a submissive but I do enjoy the trill of being Aalia’s sex slave when the occasion suits me.”

Nicole and I sat in the cage discussing our lives and how I would improve the Mask-of-Shame when I got back to work tomorrow:

“How will you hide your head bandages when you go back to work Greg?” asked Nicole when she realised that I’d no intention of wearing a Burqa to work tomorrow.

“I’ll probably wear the Shemagh that Aalia introduced me to recently,” I replied.

“Yeah I wish men were forced to veil in Kumar,” responded Nicole in her wonderful German accent. “I love having to veil and I know so many men also do so why not make all do it?”

“I guess because it is not required by the Muslim religion,” I replied.

“Muslim females are not required to veil either,” Nicole came right back at me.

“You’re so correct Nicole,” I retried to dig myself out of that one! “For whatever reason, the government of Kumar demands that all girls over a certain age protect their modesty so that is just the way it is. I see no reason why men should also show the same modesty but sadly that is not the law of this land and therefore I respect that.”

We continued our conversation until Aalia returned to the spare room, telling me that it was time to go home. I had hoped to have the long silk scarf at least removed from my eyes but that was not to be. I felt her reinstall the heavy Burqa before we said goodbye to Nicole and Sharon and headed back out to Aalia’s car to be driven home.

“I have a few surprises for you when we get home honey,” Aalia whispered into my ear.

“I can’t wait,” I sarcastically responded.

Back in Aalia’s house, I was led to the bedroom, which I’d done many times before while blindfolded. On route through the downstairs hall, my Burqa was removed but the scarf left in place, keeping my head covered completely in several layers of soft white silk. It was only once we reached the bedroom Aalia finally unwrapped the silk scarf. Lying on the large bed in front of me were several items of cloths:

“I think it might be an excellent idea if you dress as a local Kumarian man when you go back to work tomorrow Greg,” explained Aalia as she showed me the lightweight bright blue dress like garment.

“I’m not wearing that,” I replied. “It looks like a dress”

“It’s not a dress,” replied Aalia as she held it close for me to see it better. “Lots of Kumarian men wear these and it will allow you to blend in much better, especially when you wear it with the matching Shemagh.”

Aalia then showed me the matching bright blue Shemagh, which quite frankly just looked like a very long blue silk scarf that matched the dress.

“I’ll think about it in the morning darling but can I please have my arms back, they’re killing me,” I moaned.

Aalia then started the process of unbuckling the leather arm-binder that had held my arms bound behind my back for hours now. It felt good to get the use of my arms back and I headed off to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once in the bathroom, I stripped from the white satin dress and then the body stocking, before peeling off the white silk bra. Once back in the bedroom I was only wearing the white silk pants but Aalia stood by the bed holding a bright yellow Burqa and a smile from cheek to cheek:

“What the fuck?” I sarcastically demanded to know what she had in mind.

“It’s a sleeping Burqa,” replied Aalia. “Sharon told me you really liked this when in prison so she loaned me this one for you to try out. It’s made of the finest satin and I’m sure it is really comfortable.”

“Okay I’ll give it a go,” I replied, grabbing hold of the heavy garment and laying it on the bed to climb into.

I yanked open the zip at the bottom and pulled the Burqa over my head, which was elasticated and took a little tug before my face fitted comfortably and I could see through the mesh screen. I pulled my feet up onto the bed and without any arm holes; I pulled the zip back into place. Aalia then approached and laughed before I heard a faint CLICK:

“That’s you in there for the night now darling,” she cooed before kissing me on the forehead and heading off to get ready for bed herself.

When Aalia finally returned, she was wearing the black zentai body stocking I bought her several months early as an undergarment for her work suit:

“I know how much you like me in this body stocking,” teased Aalia as she rubbed her Lycra covered hands over her smooth Spandex covered body. “You’re stuck in your sleeping Burqa so there’ll be so hanky-panky tonight!

Aalia was right, her Lycra body stocking drove me wild but there was nothing I could do but lie there and try to get some sleep:

“Do men force their wives to wear these sleeping Burqa’s every night,” I quizzed Aalia who was now starting to relax?

“Yes, I believe quite a few do,” replied Aalia.

As sleep finally took over, I drifted off and the night passed into morning and the sound of the alarm clock, which of course I was never going to be able to turn off while stuck inside the sleeping Burqa. Aalia stirred briefly but then remember my predicament:

“Good morning honey, I forgot you were stuck in the sleeping Burqa,” she started to come round from a peaceful night’s sleep.

“Good morning you too,” I responded as I tried to slide out of the sleeping Burqa, which wouldn’t allow me move beyond the closed zip.

“Give me a second Greg and I’ll find the key,” explained Aalia as she scrambled out of bed.

There was clearly a problem because Aalia was much longer than expected to release me from the sleeping Burqa that Sharon had loaned her last night. There was little I could do to help. My arms were sealed inside with my body but I could clearly see through the thin mesh grill that covered the front of my face. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Aalia finally returned with a bunch of keys on a key-ring:

“One of these is bound to fit,” she announced still wearing the black all over Zentai cat suit that left none of her body visible; not even her eyes, which were hidden behind the two mesh eye grills that were built into the all-encompassing suit.

Soon I was free to slip out of the Burqa, which had been my haven for the night:

“I do like these sleeping Burqa’s Aalia,” I thanked her for putting me into it last night. “I think we should get one of our own.”

“That’s a great idea Greg,” responded Aalia. “Let’s get you ready for work today so come here and I’ll get the bandage mask off so that you can take a shower.”

Once free of the mask, I headed into the ensuite to take a long hot soak in the wonderful power shower. Not having to shave was fantastic but I did long to have my hair back.

“Are you okay Greg?” asked Aalia who came in to check on me.

“I’m fine honey,” I replied as I turned off the steaming hot water. “I wish I had my hair back!”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aalia comforted me as she held open a massive towel. “You’re due to go back to see the doctor on Wednesday so hopefully you’ll be off the drugs then and you hair will grow back soon after.”

As soon as I was dry, Aalia opened a fresh bandage mask and slipped it over my head:

“What do I wear under the blue man-tent?” I sarcastically asked.

“I’m glad you asked that Greg,” replied Aalia. “Normally you would wear a pair of silk or satin lightweight trousers and a shirt but I think a simple body stocking will be more fitting for you.”

“No way am I going to work with girl’s underwear below the man-tent,” I responded, starting to panic.

After a heated argument, Aalia gave in and I slipped on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, socks and a normal pair of men’s shoes before pulling on the blue tent that reassembled a dress with long arms. It was after breakfast when Aalia started to wrap my head in the blue satin Shemagh that left only my eyes visible so I was ready for work.

After kissing Aalia goodbye I was driven to the court house and despite my attire; no-one batted an eye-lid (even if I could see the eyes of most females working in the public building). Once in my office I started to make my notes about the modifications I required of the Mask-of-shame. Sharon arrived just before nine:

“Shit, you actually wore that thing,” she laughed.

“What choice did I have,” I replied looking up at Sharon who was wearing the standard court uniform. “The white bandage mask looks stupid but I can get away with this.”

The morning passed slowly until the UK came online a few hours later when I had a conference call with my head office in London and the manufacturer who was actually based in the Midlands. After lunch, the judge popped in to see me:

“Is that you Greg?” the red tent asked as she entered my office.

“I can assure you, it is me your honour,” I replied. “I’m still bald and wearing the bandage mask, so both Aalia and Sharon felt this outfit best suited my predicament.”

“Those girls look after you well Greg,” laughed the judge. “I hear you’re making some improvements to the mask of shame?”

As the judge sat down opposite me, I took her through the improvements I was making:

“The key seems very out-dated,” I explained. “I want to use the GPS and a coded electronic system to lock and unlock the mask. Using our software, I can set the mask to lock and only allow it to be unlocked at the same location by means of a coded electronic signal. This will make it much more secure and force the unlocking process to only take place at the desired location.”

“These are all excellent ideas Greg, I look forward to seeing the finished product,” replied the judge as she left my office.

By close of business on Tuesday, the manufacturer was clear on my modifications and the software developers were starting to add the functionality I required of the updated system so I left work for Aalia’s home, looking forward to losing the bandage mask tomorrow morning. By Wednesday mid-morning, both Aalia and I were on route to the hospital. I was dressed in a simple pair of trousers and a shirt with the Shemagh covering my head. Aalia wore a multi coloured floral dress but as per the laws of Kumar, she was covered head to toe in a bright blue satin Burqa that left only a mesh screen to see through. Once in the hospital, I unwrapped the Shemagh and the nurse pulled off the white bandage mask before the male doctor arrived. After examining my head in detail he was happy with the outcome:

“You’re a lucky man Greg,” explained the doctor. “The plastic surgery has gone very well and your face has healed well.”

“Does that mean Greg doesn’t have to wear the bandage mask anymore doctor?” asked Aalia.

“Yes, I am happy that Greg’s wounds have healed sufficiently,” replied the doctor. “It does sound like you like him having to veil?”

“I think you guys should be forced to veil just like us girls,” laughed Aalia in response.

The doctor and the nurse just laughed:

“What you get Greg to wear is up to you Aalia but he no longer needs the white bandages to protect his face,” explained the doctor.

As we were about to leave the hospital examination room Aalia turned to me:

“Greg, would you mind wearing the Shemagh,” she asked in a sweet voice. “I like it on you.”

“As you asked so nicely,” I replied and started to wind the soft material around my head.

We spent the rest of the morning walking around the shops in Kumar city and we even visited the British embassy to see if Aalia’s visa was ready. We were in luck and Aalia got her passport back with a one-year visa stamped so we could now buy a plane ticket for her to come back to London with me on Friday. The next stop was a travel agent and a return club world ticket for Aalia on the same flight as me.

My last few days in Kumar went very quickly. I worked on Thursday to prepare for my return, which included negotiating on some office space near the central Kumar City Court. We had dinner with Nicole and Sharon on Thursday night and by lunch time on Friday, Aalia and I were packed and ready for the seven-hour flight back to London. My company had chosen BA, which was a good idea because after leaving the ground at Kumar, Aalia was able to remove her Burqa.

 

It was now late June and the UK was warming up. It was nice to spend more time with the girl I loved and even nicer to spend time out and about with her not having to cover up in a Burqa. Eating out was our favourite part of being back in the UK. No complications caused by scarves or veils but Aalia found it odd:

“I miss having to wear a Burqa,” she commented as we passed two girls covered from head to toe in black tents, with only a postage slot for their eyes, while walking through Leister Square on our way to the Tube station.

“Do you really miss having to veil honey?” I replied. “We could pop into Tie Rack and buy you some scarves if you want!”

“Remember you have a Burqa back home Greg,” responded Aalia. “You used to wear it while talking to me on Skype.”

“So I did,” I replied. “I’ll get it for you when we get home then!”

“That will not be necessary Greg,” Aalia laughed. “You should get it for yourself because I miss you having to wear one.”

Aalia and started a new routine in London. I would go to work and she would explore the sights, sounds and smells of England’s capital city. I prepared close down my flat while I went back to Kumar for two years. I had decided not to rent it out but had agreed to allow my company to use it for staff when they came to London (for a fee of course). I found a heavy metal box to lock my Bondage toys, dress up cloths and of course my array of scarves, veils and Burqa’s.

A week before Aalia and I would leave for Kumar again, I was on my way back to London from Nottingham, where the new updated Masks-of-shame were being manufactured. I’d been away two days and I was looking forward to seeing Aalia. We had talked on the phone earlier and she explained that she would cook a meal for us and we could stay in for the night. As soon as I exited my local Tube station and made a push to get home to see my love. As I opened the door, nothing could have prepared me for what happened next:

“Hi honey I’m home,” I called out as I entered my ground floor apartment.

There was no response.

“Aalia are you in,” I called out as I headed towards the living room.

A figure in a black Burqa stood out in front of me, blocking the way to the living room:

“Hello Greg,” came the familiar voice of a girl I never wanted to see again in my life.

“Shireen, what the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I came all this way to see you darling,” replied Shireen.

I then pushed passed her to find Aalia lying on the floor: She was wearing her favourite short summer dress but her hands and feet were bound and her mouth was stuffed with a silk scarf, effectively gagging her:

“What the fuck have you done Shireen!” I started to lose my temper.

“I’m here for you my love,” replied Shireen who now approached me.

“Shireen, I made it clear to the courts in Kumar that I never wanted to see you again,” I yelled. “I could have asked then to put you in jail and throw away the key for what you did to me!”

I turned towards Aalia who was MUMPHING into her silk gag. I then knelt down to untie her hands:

“Don’t touch her Greg!” yelled Shireen who was now getting angry.

I ignored Shireen and started to pick the tight knot on the silk scarf that tightly bound Aalia’s hands behind her back. It was then the pain hit me in the back. I had no time to react but I knew that Shireen had just used a tazor on me. As I came round, I was lying on the floor starring into Aalia’s big dark eyes which had fear written all over then. I tried to get up but it was then I felt the bonds that held my hands behind my back and my feet together. I then tried to call out but my mouth was also now packed with something and held in place by a silk or satin scarf that was tied tightly behind my head. I was able to turn my head to see Shireen who was still hidden behind a black Burqa taking something out of a sterile plastic bag:

“You were going to marry me Greg,” explained Shireen as she knelt down beside me.

I could see that she had a plastic mask in her hand with an elasticated band attached:

“You are still going to marry me Greg,” Shireen said in a matter-of-fact way before slipping the plastic mask over Aalia’s face and fitting the elasticated band over her head to told the mask in place.

I lay there on the floor beside Aalia and watched as she panicked. I was helpless to do anything as Aalia’s body went limp and she lost consciousness. It was clearly my turn next as Shireen went for a second mask:

“I need to keep you both quiet until I work out what to do next,” she explained as the mask went over my nose and mouth, held in place by an elasticated band around my head.

The fumes from the mask were very sweet and very overpowering.  The room soon started to spin and as I was unable to remove the mask, I fell into unconsciousness in a matter of seconds.

 

May be continued in a sequel but Greg’s holiday in Kumar is over!

Author: Ed Kilpatrick
E-mail: EdKBound@GMail.com

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