Katrina's Taming

KATRINA'S TAMING (by Eve Adorer)

I am very pleased, indeed amazed, by the praise that this fantasy, up to and including chapter 4 at least, has received. I must perhaps now hope I am not next headed for a fall! To remove that which brought abundant entirely justified criticism, the version of "Katrina's Taming" now posted up to and including chapter 4, has already been amended to remove overabundant use of, “girl-this” and “girl-that”. It seemed a good idea at the time, but clearly wasn't!!
Eve (Adorer)

Katrina now continues her remembrance of things past………….

Chapter 5 – Katrina's New Career

Jackie was as good as her word about the loan. You might think I had paid a heavy enough price for it. In one way you would, of course, be entirely right. I had undoubtedly undergone the cruellest of torture and humiliation from Jackie and her fellow pornographers.

In another way, forgive me, but you would be wrong. The price I had paid was worth it for the new girl that dawned when the twenty-six-year-old forced foetus positioned creature that had been me in the girl-cage had been re-born into the world following her twenty-four hours in that horrendously cruel womb.

I was re-born girl-girl. Before what has been referred to as my taming, I had deluded myself for all my preceding twenty-six years that I needed a man to make my life whole and worthwhile. I now knew that love can take many forms and that the standard issue boy and girl togetherness I had longed to find before my cage experience was not the only answer to a maiden's prayer, and absolutely not at all the answer for me.

These were, of course, not my immediate thoughts on my release from the cage. After such suffering it was some time before I was able to think clearly or at all.

I was housed in Jackie's country mansion and nursed by Jackie herself for many a day after my “re-birth”. It might seem strange to relate that Jackie and I were still on the friendliest of terms and continued our relationship almost as before she had organised my subjection.

In my torture, Jackie had played her role, and undoubtedly enjoyed her role, and enjoyed it all the more because she had had me as her victim.

For my part too, I had “acted” a role. I am not saying by this that there was any pretence at all about what had been done to me. But my “taming” had only been a theme for Jackie's film. What had been done to me had been chosen by Jackie to fit that theme. I had “acted” my part in it insofar as my whole life till then had been one long enjoyment of freedom and movement and irresponsibility and I was therefore perfect for “the part”.

As I have said, it might seem strange to relate that Jackie and I were still on the friendliest of terms and continued our relationship almost as before she had organised my torture. In fact that is a slight untruth. We were, it is no lie, on the friendliest of terms still. But for me now, after the cage, “friend” was too weak a word by far for what I wanted Jackie to be with me.

If there were a stronger word in the dictionary than “lover” I would use it here and repeat it endlessly. I would do anything for Jackie now. I adored her. I worshipped her. I longed for her to take me to her bed and have me, just as Jackie had longed to have me when, before my subjection, I had always spurned her desire for my body.

But, for my dismissal of her desire over all the years since our school days together, Jackie had just had her revenge, and what my every look tried to tell her about my longing, did not seem to register with her now.

You may well ask why I did not just come out with it straight and tell Jackie I loved her. You are, of course, entirely right to ask. I can only answer that I could not take the risk. I wanted a sign from Jackie, just the smallest, just the least but most significant sign, before I dare speak. My heart would have been broken beyond all hope had I spoken and been spurned. All my torture would have been as nought compared with that. I could not take the risk. I would suffer for love but I could not risk the death of all my hopes.

And now you ask why my looks did not tell her what I longed for Jackie to know. Please understand that I could not chance anything that would turn Jackie from me. I must be subtle: my heart ached, but I must be subtle. I consoled myself that it was better heartache than heartbreak.

Was Jackie aware of my feelings? I have asked that question so many times that it is no surprise that you should ask it too. I hope she was. I hope she was. I could forgive her anything. If she knew but had decided she did not care, I could forgive her even that or worse. Perhaps, truth told, looking back, I wanted her to break my heart, but it felt the opposite of that at the time: entirely the opposite.

Jackie had loaned me the money as she had promised. But a loan is a loan and needs repayment. I had no job, how could I repay Jackie's loan?

There was, of course, the film of my suffering. But somewhere along the way Jackie had decided to keep that.

Sale of the DVD and video would have repaid my debt and brought profit beyond. Perhaps you will say that by keeping me in monetary debt and having the video of my torture still in the can, Jackie was ensuring that she still had leverage over me. It is hurtful for me to have to say so but I cannot deny that it could look that way.

Jackie and I talked about my future and I was so relieved when she said that she was keeping the film that I almost leaped up and kissed her. Goodness, how I wish I had done!

Oh how I had blushed with pleasure as she had praised my facial and physical beauty and offered me a job as a model. She assured me that my money debt to her would seem “chicken feed” to what I could gain as income from modelling.

Okay, this was not to be catwalk fashion-ware I would be displaying: I would be nude or semi nude in most of the picture spreads, but Jackie knew people and there was fetish gear I would look divine wearing. I could use a false name….a website on the internet would be a must…

Jackie did not need to sell her idea to me; if it were to be for her, I would do it. She had gone on to say that it would mean travelling worldwide for months on end, but she did not need to tell me that either, I knew I would do it for her no matter what it involved……

…..I had then returned to my own apartment and the phone had begun to ring with offers of modelling assignments. Jackie had one of her managers take me on her books and I flew hither and yon to wonderful countries villages, towns and cities where I stopped in the best hotels and ate divine food.

To be totally honest, I was no model really. At least, in the beginning I was no kind of model. I was so shy of undressing before the camera and knew nothing of posing or composing my face. But, in time and with the patience people showed me, I relaxed and really enjoyed my new career.

My first photo spread was in “Pink Girl”, one of Jackie's publications for the gay-girl market. From the outset I made it a rule, and had it accepted, that I would at least keep my panties on. Nobody minded this. My physical assets were outstandingly beautiful, and the world could see all they desired to see short of the ultimate, and seemed to be pleased to be teased that way. The number of “hits” on my website certainly told that that was the way it was.

Indeed, the “tease” of my always keeping my slit covered was a marketable commodity. Advance publicity that I would be in “Pink Girl” for December 20** without my panties quadrupled sales. There was in fact only the one picture of me totally nude: totally nude that is, except for the semi-transparent dressing gown the multiple folds of which in the vital spot strategically curtained my sex.

My career was going splendidly within the year. But my love life was non-existent. Every flight that took me out of England also took me away from Jackie.

Of course I met girls who wanted me. There was a charming photographer, Mi Li, a Korean beauty, who told me she loved me and kissed me passionately. And oh how my body had responded to her lips on my mouth. My panties had filled with my nectar in an instant. I could never tell Jackie how I had longed for this girl to kiss my lower lips. Nor would I ever tell Jackie how I had masturbated afterwards in recollection of the kiss from this brown-eyed dark-haired golden butterfly, and had fingered my slit picturing this lovely little angel enjoying watching me suffer in the girl-cage for her ….

From Jackie I heard almost nothing. At least, I heard almost nothing directly. I was always aware that she, as the overall manager of the outfit I was working for one minor wing of, kept an interest in my progress. It only occurred to me much later to wonder if she would have kept me on her books if I had not been contributing at least in a small way to her profits.

I had not lost any of my longing for Jackie over the year that my modelling career apprenticeship had me almost always away from my London home. So, you can imagine how my heart fluttered when, back in London for two weeks as I was, the phone had rung and Jackie had invited me to a party at her London address.

I rushed out immediately to buy a dress and shoes so that I would not disgrace the event. I had money to spare and would buy the best. Okay, Jackie had said not to go to any bother, that it was just “a business affair” and that it was only for some Japanese girls who owned a company working in the same line as Jackie, that wanted to talk about co-operation and the wider opening of the Japanese market for Jackie's products…

It might be as boring as that for Jackie, but for me this was my chance to shine for her, to stun her, to knock her dead with my beauty, to win her love, to gain her heart…

Black was the order of the day for me. The party was to be in the early evening. I donned a black quarter-cup support brassiere that lifted my otherwise bare breasts so that they would fill superbly and excitingly enticingly beautifully the dress I had chosen. Up my superbly shapely long legs I rolled black stockings with rose flower and leaf pattern in their tops, and fixed these to my black suspenders.

I would wear no panties. I wore my hair drawn up into one very tight flat bun on top of my head.

Then I put on the dress I had chosen for Jackie. It was a black velvet dress that covered to my ankles and took on the shape of my lovely body, clinging to me as closely as I longed for Jackie to do. Its sleeves were to my wrists. It covered my upper body entirely, finished with a Chinese style collar at my neck, and it hugged my lovely smackable bum.

As I stood shoeless in it, to check its straightness in my full length mirror and that I had zipped it right up at the back and tucked the zip away from sight, the hem of this dress, my knockout dress for Jackie, was trailing on the ground.

Had I made a disastrous mistake about the size? I quickly put on my four-inch stiletto-healed sling-backs and looked again. And as I slinked toward the mirror, the whole of my beautiful suntanned black stockinged right leg was revealed by the single vent that ran from my dress' hem to my stocking tops, and I smiled at the stunningly lovely me that was in the mirror and giggled with the joy of my girlness, and blew my mirror me a silly girly giggling kiss. Only heaven or a girl could fill that dress as divinely as I did.

My impatient cab driver had rung the bell on the outside door of my apartment three long times by now and had just taken to knocking, when I opened the door and he immediately removed his baseball hat in open-mouthed honour of me, as I swept out, blushing with delight at my compelling beauty, before him.