Petalina put a comforting arm around her distraught mother, and sat her down again.

�It�s alright mummy. It�s alright. I don�t mind. I�ll do it for you mummy, I�ll do it for us, you know I will�, she soothed.

�I haven�t finished yet!� Karana shouted above the two wailing women.

Then, her words punctuated by Namatina�s continuing sobs, Karana concluded: �There is but one strict stipulation that goes with the deal. It is that, despite her masturbation devaluing her, when she is delivered up, Petalina must still be an intact virgin, otherwise the whole deal is off�.

�We have a millionaire countess who will fund this. She�ll want a DVD of it being done and regular reports on Petalina as she goes through life after.�

�You, Namatina, will go into service with the countess as her lifelong slave. Petalina will be free to enjoy life, if �enjoy� is the right word.�

�Now go. You have the phone number. We plan to start at the weekend � Saturday next. We will make preparations on that assumption. You can have time to think about it, but don�t have any alternative I can think of.�

�And, so, when you�ve also reached the same conclusion, you, Namatina, will phone, ask for me, and use the code word �red� to confirm you agree the deal. We will then come and collect Petalina and yourself, take her to where it will take place, and you will become the countess� slave, after watching it being done to your daughter�.

As the two sobbing ghost-white curly-redhead wonders rose to leave, Karana shot out two more points: �Remember, all you�ve heard is totally deniable.�

�Oh: and, when you get home, so as to mark her out as a virgin, Petalina must lose the pubes. Shave it totally smooth, and shave it twice a day after that�.

�What are you going to do to her?!� Namatina begged, as she bit her pretty lip to hold back her tears.

�You�ve been told the deal, bitch, now just get out of here!� Karana sneered triumphantly.

.

It had been good of the countess to let Petalina continue to live in the condo she and her dear momma had shared. Namatina�s apartment in the condo had gone to the countess as a contribution toward Namatina�s debts. But the countess had recognised that little Petalina needed a roof over her head until she left school: a home from which she would dutifully email the countess with a report on her sex-life every month: reports that the countess would take delight in having her slave, Namatina, read out-loud to her; though, fortunately, Petalina did not know that.

Today Petalina sat on the 15.30 train home to Barnmouth. Out of the window, she could see the River Barn�s valley in all its spring loveliness: the unfurling of the pristine green leaves on the deciduous sisters among the evergreen pines they gave way to, as the latter strode alone up the distant distinctly dark Barnwold Hills, told of the dawn of the new year, as did the trackside fields full of lambs springing over imagined obstacles as they learned to use their newborn�s legs.

The astoundingly glorious gold of her glistering cascade of complex curls might be a mite autumnal; but spring had also sprung in ghost-white pretty Petalina�s mind, and she tried not to return the bewitching smile in the sparkling almond-hued almond shaped eyes of a stunning jet-haired ethnic- Japanese girl in the seat opposite her. Yet, so pretty were this twenty-year-old�s legs, and so seductive the line that led to the bell of her skirt and the mystery between her thighs hidden by the shadow from her hem, that Petalina must pretend that she was looking out of the coach window.

Petalina had a lot to contemplate. She was returning home after an interview for an appointment as an office-girl, at the main UK factory of the world-famous Clittitass Love Toys Inc., and it had been a strange interview.

The countess had allowed Petalina to complete her time at school. The office-girl job was the first Petalina had ever applied for post school, and even though she would never now go to college and get the education that the qualifications listed for the post she had applied for, purely speculatively, demanded, her interviewer had said how very attractive Petalina was and selected her right there and then, without any reservations.

Her interviewer, Milandia Loveworthy had made some very strange comments.

Through the glass of the one-way mirror window in her ground floor office, it was possible to look, unobserved, at the factory-girls as they went about their dreadfully repetitive work.

�Psychologists have extolled the virtue of jealousy as a driving force among the females working in a factory environment Miss Goldkiss. Delivering a cause for a united focus on a figure of desire and jealousy, keeps the old �green-eyed monster� from causing the factory-girls to turn on one another. Fessenstein in her treatise �The Female Jealouside and Redress Through Focused Targeting� speaks of using a �tease-tart�.

�I want you to become this factory�s first tease-tart Miss Goldkiss. You will not find it difficult to look stunningly attractive: nature has done wonders by you. We will pay for your clothing.�

�You will not wear the factory products. I have Paris for dresses, skirts and supporting underwear, London for millinery and stockings, and Milan for shoes in mind for you; and, of course, it has to be New York for your panties.�

�Fessenstein recommends �The finest designer outfits� to convey that the wearer is either being paid much more by far than the shop-floor girls are, or that she is sleeping with the boss to get favours and, either way, is desirably unavailable: available unavailability being the key to the success in deploying a tease-tart.�

�Please don�t let worry-lines crease your brow so Miss Goldkiss. You don�t actually have to sleep with the boss, but I am not about to say �no� if you decide you would like to!� Milandia had joked as Petalina had blushed beyond English Rose.

�All you have to do is to be your lovely self. But you must never ever date any of the shop-floor girls. You are to be a �tease-tart� � what we in England also call a �clit-tease�. Apart from looking lovely at all times, all you have to do is accept a lift to and from work in my Leopard, so the girls will not only think you�re being bedded by me, but will long to sniff the leather of the passenger seat after you have just got out!�.

.

Back in the very present, Petalina�s peripheral vision told her that the Japanese doll was smiling at her, and looking to engage her in conversation.

Unable to avoid the older girls stunning eyes, Petalina lowered her head shyly as she heard her whisper: �I just love you hair.How ever do you manage to keep it so beautiful? What conditioner do you use?�

But before the conversation could be struck up, the train pulled into a station and a group of girls, over-cheery, with cherry-red cheeks from the intoxication of youth, vitality, and more than a little alcohol, ran giggling into the carriage and latched onto the pretty Japanese.

�Hey now doll: are you a cracker or are you a cracker?!� slurred the newly boarded girl who seemed to be the centre of attention.

�Me and me mates are out celebrating see�, she went on to say, as if the lovely Japanese wanted or needed to know.

�It�s me last day of freedom. Madeline and me is getting married tomorrow.only Madeline ain�t here of course, cos she�s getting drunk somewhere down-town see. And it�s bad luck to let the bride see the bride on the day before the wedding. But if you wanna come with us sweetheart, I�ll forget all about Maddy and marry you instead: alright darlin�?�

The Japanese girl giggled divinely.

�Waz you name den darlin�?� the drunken bride-to-be then insistently slurred.

�Nimoto�, the Japanese angel answered, giggling once more, with a pretty hand touch on her nose and sparkles in her eyes.

�Well you�re absolutely fuckin� gorgeous Nimoto. D�yo know that?� the tipsy girl sincered.

�Thank you�, Nimoto smiled as she lowered her head shyly.

�Bet you shave it too, don�t you darlin�?� the drunk girl then blurted out: the short distance between her unconscious and conscious minds having been hot-wired by drink.

In the instant, Nimoto looked upset, and the drunken girl was genuinely apologetic: �Sorry darlin� I didn�t mean no �urt to a gorgeous doll like what you is!�

Nimoto instinctively knew the apology was from the tipsy girl�s heart and soul. And so she looked up with her countenance showing her confidence renewed, and joined in the fun by whispering the truth; �Yes: I do�, and then giggling lovingly as she saw it was now the drunks turn to blush.

�Oh fuckin� �ell! I don�t want to fink about dat, �cept that I bloody well do! Oh bloody �ell! Wow and bloody wow!�

This stunning revelation seemed to poleaxe the tipsy soon-to-be bride, who just could not get rid of her blush, and now covered for herself by saying: �If�n you want to come and join us Nimoto.we�re off to Camford to see if we can find some student girls to shag. Them brains tarts has always got hot cracks. We�re on a bet see. We wanna see how many students we can get the knickers off this side of midnight, and me pals say I�ve gotta lick out at least one PhD, whatever one of them is.�

�Nimoto blushed crimson at this directness: �I�m sorry, I�ve got a wife at home cooking dinner for me. It�s our first anniversary�, she began. �But why don�t you ask this lovely redhead to join you, she then offered.thinking both to get rid of the attention she was getting, and sure she could defend both herself and the redhead if, as was surely to be expected, the redhead also declined the invitation. Nimoto so wanted to talk to the titian temptress, and this was a way of including Petalina in the conversation, as certainly as it assured success in subsequently including the drunken bride-to-be out.

.But as she looked up and across to where Petalina had, she assumed, sat throughout the barrage of loud but friendly badinage, Nimoto saw only an empty seat.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the next carriage but one, lovely lonely Petalina sat trying to hide her sadness. The countess may have insisted upon Petalina being �protected� as part of the repayment of her momma�s debts, but Petalina�s mind heart and very soul was still in love with love and longing for it.

.

The unfurling uncurling mint-fresh leaves were not the only sign of spring in the air. The season�s slow warming glow also saw the arrival of fresh freckles on the spectral face of the bewitching Petalina. One even teetered top edge of the siren strawberry of her seductively succulent lips.

Though to others they were astonishingly adorable, Petalina had always hated her freckles. As an even younger girl, she had tried to cover them with makeup. But now, for the greater glory of the world, she let them show.

This was the first day in her new job and her darling freckles had not gone unnoticed on the workshop floor.

For her first day as the factory�s tease-tart, Milandia Loveworthy, had had Petalina dress in a �little green number�.

The verdant pastoral pastel shade of green chosen, was a compliment to the shear glory of Petalina�s flaming tresses. Though it was long-sleeved, the top was worn off-shoulder and the supreme whiteness of Petalina�s soft skin and the intricate delicacy of her shoulder and collar bones, showed how carefully god had made her.

With her shoulders bare, there could be no brassiere, and thus Petalina�s generous portions played their appointed role in prominently propping out the clinging line of her dress� figure-hugging elasticated top, and deployed their alarming charms as she wiggled in walk and they wandered wonderfully within their tight but light restraint.

The skirt of her dress clung too to her delicious derriere and hinted that her hips were decorated, as indeed they were, by a delicately designed suspender belt.

The twice told truth of this ran, beyond the miniscule minimum of her min-dress� hem, down the outsides of her bare translucently white thighs: with the extra-long reach of these, her suspenders, kissing her stockings just above her knees where they drew their tops up in long victory vees.

Mint-green was the theme not only of her dress but also in her underwear and stockings, and the saucily slanted Panama that sloped atop her impossible curls, and the five-inch heeled slingbacks posing her lovely legs in delectable tension.

The dark rings under her soulful brown eyes hinted that Petalina had hardly slept and the answer to the cause of that god-given blessing and curse spotted its scarlet tears under her mint-green thong.

Her bleed had come on this dawn, and was a great discomfort to Petalina. Tampons were out of the question of course. She could therefore only use pads or panty-liners to soak up her sacrificial blood.

As intended by her boss, one magically majestic stroll of this wonder of nature through the throng on the workshop floor was enough to set tongues wagging.

��Ere Trish, you seen the new girl in Accounts? I wouldn�t kick �er out of bed, that�s for sure!�

�Yea. It�s not bloody fair.� Trisha Smith answered. �She goes about all hoity-toity wiv �er �air right down to beyond �er bleedin� arse, and we �as to �ave it trimmed short and wear �air nets for safety an� all�.

�I know; but she ain�t factory, she�s office, and them rules don�t apply none to office see�, Martha informed, as if Trisha didn�t already know.

�Bet you don�t know what colour knickers she�s got on!� Trisha teased.

�Coarse I do. Dey�ll be fuckin� green same as der rest of her rig-out won�t dey?� Martha responded, losing her certainty toward the end of her answer.

�But I dunno though!� Martha then mused.

�I fort you said you did!� Trisha shot back.

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