Tuesday, July 19, 2011

'96 Months' XV

One morning after exercise, Princess Rosanna had me hanging from the pipe. On this occasion I was facing the wall with the front of my collar and waist band secured to the hooks on the pipe. My legs of course were stretched outward in an uncomfortable split. The Princess was applying the searing hot needles to my anus. She did this prior to my visits to Abdul, fully knowing that he would use me there and thus make the caning and his subsequent attentions even more painful. As I struggled with the numerous punctures, the Princess was reading a magazine concerning body art while Paul serviced her. It was her way of relaxing... reading, applying an occasional needle, receiving oral service then flipping more pages. It sometimes lasted for hours if she found the magazine to be interesting.

The body art magazine fascinated her. The next day she returned from the city with make up and the morning was spent painting my entire body. She wanted to see what I would look like as a bird. So, she worked from my feet upwards and coated me. When finished, some two hours later, she attached the small leash to my clitoral ring and led me about the house showing me off to Lantita, Paul, Paula and finally the livestock.

She had painted my feet orange. My calves and thighs red, except at the thighs she blended in various shades of green. My stomach was yellow. My back was of lighter greens with some yellow. All this was highlighted with thin white and black lines to simulate plumage. Blue was used around my eyes and lips.

The Princess was proud of her work. Lantita and the teenagers laughed and mocked me. I spent the remainder of the morning restrained in front of a mirror. Lantita remarked, as tears of humiliation ran to my cheeks, that it was a shame that the paint had to be removed. The Princess looked at me pensively and nodded.

The next day I was scheduled to visit the courthouse. Lantita washed off the body paint as I knelt for the enema. (I was always cleansed internally to show respect for Abdul). As Lantita led me to the limousine, the Princess stepped out of the front door. For the first time she accompanied us into the city and during the two hour ride she roughly played with my intimate parts. When we arrived I was very aroused and ready for Abdul. The Princess announced she would do some shopping and meet us later.

On this visit, Abdul hung me upside down, facing the raucous audience, and caned my breasts. In this position he always grabbed my hair and pulled back to force me to arch my back and thrust out my chest. This provided the best target, he explained, and ensured that the nipples would be stroked. He swung heavily considering the sensitivity of the area. I noticed that each session was becoming progressively more cruel as the final date approached.

After Abdul sodomized me and I was hung in the courtyard, the Princess came to view me. She seemed proud of the attention I drew and was very impressed with Abdul’s work. His spendings dribbled down my thighs and the Princess smiled knowingly.

That evening, on the car ride to the farm, the Princess announced that I would be the object of a new project.

"You’re going to look even more beautiful and submissive," she exclaimed. "The canings are only for a few more months and soon you’ll forget Abdul. But you’ll never forget me, Little One. No. Princess Rosanna will forever be in your memory."


The next day after exercise, Lantita took me to the office and attached me to the pipe. Princess Rosanna was toying with an odd electrical device which made a humming noise. When she wheeled the tray between my legs the alcohol lamp and needles had been replaced with bottles of colored liquid. She held up the device. It was a tattooing needle!

"You’ll find the physical pain to be minor compared to what you’ve endured. It’s the mental anguish of understanding the permanence that will torment you. Over the next few weeks I’m going to color your flesh as I see fit. You’re going to look very pretty for me, with your jewelry and all."

As she spoke she began to run the device over my foot. Just as with the body paint, she chose a bright orange. She was very thorough. Within hours both feet were tattooed orange from the ankles down. She even did the bottom of the feet and between my toes.

She was right about the torment. The pain was nothing compared to the canings and hot needles I had endured. But the thought of the permanence of the subjugation put me into a funk. Deep down, I had always believed there would be a time when my sentence would be completed and I would be allowed to return to England. And now the body art. How could I explain it? Particularly in my profession where nurses were expected to be appear neat, clean and orderly in appearance. The ‘girl next door’ type of aura.

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