Wanda’s Little Secret – Romance in a Few Acts VI

This is another part — a continuation of the story (parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5). Familiarity with the previous parts is recommended, but not required. Although the story contains many references to earlier parts, the overall context should still be clear on its own. If you don’t feel like reading the previous parts, you can just look at the illustrations — the general meaning of the story is understandable even without the text.

Important: As usual, the story contains everything that would require a disclaimer: submission and humiliation, madness, sex scenes, tattoos, body modifications, images with provocative undertones — but overall, it’s a story about friendship and loneliness.

Adult content. 18+ only.

The story with all illustrations can be read on my Patreon.

Chapter 1

Wanda sat by the pond, watching the water. Ducks drifted in pairs.
“Not a single duck alone. Just me. What did I do wrong?”

After the emergence of Mistress Smooth, Wanda’s financial situation improved rapidly. To her own surprise, she turned out to be a natural professional — she had an intuitive understanding of people and knew exactly how to approach them. At first, wealthy women came to her, then men followed. Some sought a whip, a strap-on, or a one-time session of humiliation. Others, like Kelly, needed something deeper — an existential catharsis that combined both spiritual and physical rebirth.

The persona of Mistress Smooth almost always implied radical changes to a client’s appearance in such cases — haircuts, tattoos. Wanda deliberately trained in the latter and, over time, achieved considerable skill. Gradually, her clientele grew so wealthy and influential that she herself became both.

Despite the fact that many of her clients were genuinely beautiful women — some of whom were willing to do anything for Mistress — Wanda never allowed business to become personal. She was a dominatrix only because she was paid to be. The very idea of domination in intimacy repulsed her.

Her attempts to find a partner were brief and fruitless. First, her profession was too unusual. Second — Karina held her back. Love and guilt refused to let go. Wanda still hoped Karina would be cured, that they could start over. But Karina was never discharged.

Using her connections, Wanda gained access to the medical records — detailed notes from every session. That’s when it became clear: there was almost no hope. Karina was sinking deeper and deeper into her fabricated reality, never returning, only reinforcing it.

Out of desperation, a cold, calculated plan was born — very much in the spirit of Mistress Smooth.

Wanda enrolled as a non-degree student in the university’s psychology department. Demonstrating exceptional ability, she mastered the theory in under three years. A diploma required formal enrollment and clinical practice, but she didn’t need either: her “practice” already brought in far more money, and her knowledge was actively applied.

Eventually, she reached a conclusion: the only chance to bring Karina back was to recreate the final day of her delusional reality — and alter it, shifting her consciousness back toward normality.

“Now you’re home.” These words seemed like salvation to Wanda.

In Karina’s house, in the role of Mistress, she was certain she could pull her out of the “It” state quickly. She was wrong — cruelly wrong.

No matter what she tried, Karina kept returning to that final day. Her answers were monosyllabic. She exhibited an obsessive need for pain, humiliation, and service to her Mistress.

At least her condition didn’t worsen. Within her distorted reality, Karina remained stable. No new compulsions appeared.

Over time, three incidents stood out.

The first occurred when the black paint began to fade from her body. Karina ran outside and threw herself under a car. The driver managed to brake in time. After that, Wanda had to keep the doors locked and regularly reapply the coating.

The second happened when Karina cut her own tongue. It was stitched back together. Somehow, Wanda managed to convince her that she didn’t need a split tongue — that a whole one was better suited for oral sex, and that Mistress herself had “restored everything.”

The third incident took place a year later. Karina found a pin and a pen and attempted to “fix” the tattoo on her face, piercing the skin and filling it with ink because, in her view, the design had faded.

That was when Wanda gave up.

She stopped trying to return Karina to a human state and accepted her as a pet.

The markings on her face were removed — Wanda convinced her they had never existed. But her body had to remain black, and Wanda gradually covered it with a solid black tattoo.

Mistress gave her the pain and humiliation she craved.

Karina was completely happy.

Wanda was not.

She had gained a devoted pet, one ready to satisfy her sexually — but not a partner, not someone she loved. And Karina wasn’t insane in the conventional sense: on command, she could write an essay or convince any panel of her sanity. But she had no will of her own. She did not live — she served.

Anything outside that role was either difficult for her or simply ignored. She ate poorly at the table, but eagerly if food was placed on the floor. Eventually, she began eating from a large ceramic bowl.

Wanda felt like a lonely thirty-four-year-old woman who, unable to find a partner, got herself a dog — but couldn’t even take it for a walk.

And now she sat alone, watching the ducks.

Chapter 2

A car screeched to a stop behind Wanda. Someone cursed. A girl jumped out of the passenger seat and shouted:
— I’ll handle it myself!

She slammed the door, and the car immediately pulled away.

The girl walked over to the bench and sat down on the edge beside Wanda. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag, nervously slid one out — then caught herself and shoved it back in with irritation. Smoking here could easily get her fined.

 

She looked like a high school senior, clearly trying to appear alternative: messy black hair, dark lipstick, heavy boots. But what caught Wanda’s attention most was the print on her T-shirt — a photograph of Karina from the height of her popularity after the exhibition.

The girl took out her phone, pressed the button — and swore out loud. The screen stayed black.

She hesitated for a few seconds, thinking, then glanced at Wanda and made up her mind:
— Hi, miss… So, here’s the thing… I had a bit of a fight with my sister, she drove off, and my phone’s dead. Do you maybe have a charger… a power bank… or could I make a call… — she trailed off, waved her hand. — Whatever, forget it. Could you lend me twenty bucks for a taxi?

Wanda found herself intrigued.
— Who’s on your T-shirt?

— That’s Karina K. An alternative model and a criminally underrated style icon. She’s my idol. So… can you lend it?

Wanda smirked.
— You’re not getting far on twenty dollars. Let’s do this: give me the address, I’ll call you a taxi. And what’s your name?

— Emmy.

She gave the address.

— Nice to meet you, Emmy. I’m Wanda. The car’s already on its way. About thirty-eight dollars. If you want to pay me back — here’s my number.

— Of course I’ll pay you back! Thank you!

Emmy jumped up and nearly ran to the arriving taxi.

Wanda stayed by the pond. And, unexpectedly, she caught herself feeling a quiet warmth toward the girl.

She told Karina about it. Karina calmly replied that she was glad Mistress liked the T-shirt with her image on it.

That evening, they settled in to watch a series. Or rather, Wanda watched, while Karina worked her long tongue over her. Wanda climaxed twice — and still would have preferred something simpler: sitting together, holding each other.

Later, Emmy called.
— Sorry for calling so late… How should I return the thirty-eight dollars? Transfer, or maybe we could meet?

Wanda paused for a moment.
— You know what… there’s an ice cream place not far from you. Let’s meet tomorrow at five. You’ll buy me ice cream — and tell me about your idol. Especially since I knew her a little.

From the other end came an immediate, excited:
— Yes!

 

During the day, Wanda worked — whipping a model family man. But by five, she had finished and changed.

She walked into the café right on time.

Emmy was already there, sitting at a table, visibly nervous. Her outfit hadn’t changed much, but the T-shirt had. And again — Karina.

— Tell me! — she blurted out immediately.

— Will you buy us ice cream first? To cover those thirty-eight dollars, — Wanda smiled.

Emmy jumped up at once and soon returned with two servings. She sat down close beside her — almost too close.

Wanda began:
— I met Karina after Henry’s death. She wasn’t in the best state then. But we knew each other a little.

For the next half hour, she shared things fans could only dream of: Karina’s tastes, her habits, her relationship with Henry, what she felt when she ran from the exhibition — details you won’t find in any interview.

When she finished, Emmy looked at her, almost mesmerized.

— And you… — Wanda asked gently, — why is she your idol?

Emmy hesitated, then spoke:
— I love the aesthetic she had with Henry. It’s not like everyone else’s, but it’s beautiful. And… I know she was kind. And now she’s not okay.

— How do you know she was kind?

— I… kind of knew her. Well… she was friends with my sister, came over to our place sometimes. She was always nice. But back then she looked… normal. And then, when she moved in with Henry, she gave away all her belongings to charity. My sister helped deliver them. I think they raised over five thousand dollars. And later she kept doing charity work, even when she was already a model.

Emmy lowered her eyes.

— And there’s something I can’t forgive myself for.

She fell silent, gathering her thoughts.

— She came to our place once. Right after she ran away from the exhibition. I was home alone. I was eleven… I’d never seen people like that before, with tattoos. I… got scared. And I slammed the door in her face.

Silence settled between them.

— I apologized later through my sister. She told me Karina wasn’t angry… and that she wished for me to grow up and achieve everything I want.

Emmy let out a quiet, awkward laugh.
— I draw. I want to be an artist. Maybe a designer… a model… a tattoo artist. I want to be like her. But my family’s against it. Especially my dad. Even my sister tries to talk me out of it.

She sighed.
— They say I should go to college, become a lawyer. I’m finishing school this year… I wanted to get a haircut like hers in that doorway photo. That’s what we fought about.

They sat side by side, almost like friends now.

Wanda listened, feeling herself drawn more and more to the girl. Maybe because, through her, memories of Karina came alive again. Maybe because she liked Emmy herself. Or because her words carried dreams and ambitions that, for Wanda, had long since turned into something distant and distorted.

Or maybe it was something simpler — something almost maternal toward a girl sixteen years younger than her.

But most importantly — it was real, human connection.

Something she had been desperately missing.

Chapter 3

Wanda and Emmy became close friends. They went to the movies, visited exhibitions, spent hours in cafés. Emmy found in Wanda someone who truly understood her. Wanda, in turn, found a living, breathing human connection — something that had nearly vanished from her life.

Neither of them tried to define where their relationship might lead. They simply enjoyed being together.

But now, Wanda had work to do.

Jessie was one of those clients ready to cross the final line.
Young, beautiful — she had come almost by accident at first. She was seeing two friends at once, unable to choose, and wanted “punishment.” She probably hadn’t taken the first session seriously — more like a game, an experiment.

And Mistress Smooth gave her exactly that: light humiliation, gentle pain — just a taste.

But Jessie wanted more.
After the second session, she began to question whether she needed men at all. After the third, there were no doubts left.

She wanted to become a submissive.
And she wanted Mistress Smooth to be the one to initiate her.

When Wanda entered, Jessie was already kneeling in the center of the hotel room, her eyes lowered.

Mistress Smooth took her seat slowly.

Jessie hadn’t taken any stimulants today, yet her body still trembled faintly with anticipation.

And suddenly, Wanda caught herself thinking — Jessie somehow resembled Emmy.
She was older. More physically mature. Her gaze was different, her eyes a different color. Emmy could never be imagined in that simple white dress.

And yet… there was something.
Not innocence.
Something closer to untouchedness.

And Jessie had come here to destroy it.

Mistress Smooth began to speak.
Deep inside, Wanda wanted to stop her. To talk her out of it. To send her away.

But Jessie was unwavering.
And so was Mistress Smooth.

She always knew exactly what the client needed — and gave it to them. That was what she was paid for.

When the moment came, inevitable and irreversible, Wanda made one final attempt:
— I can see you’re not ready.

Jessie raised her eyes.
Green. Open. Almost childlike.

— Please, Mistress… I want to be smooth.

And in that instant, Wanda knew she had lost.
Just as she had once lost with Karina.

Something inside the girl kneeling before her was breaking free — and there was no stopping it.

With a tired motion, she removed her wig.
Picked up the clippers.
Held them out.

That was all it took.

Jessie nearly snatched them, smiling wide — radiant, almost ecstatic — and began shaving off her long black hair.

Strands fell to the floor.
Her body shuddered at every pass. Her scalp seemed hypersensitive, every touch amplified.

 

When the hair was gone, Jessie looked up, breathless.

But it wasn’t enough.

With cold, almost desperate precision, Wanda applied shaving foam and ran a razor over her head, bringing it to absolute smoothness.

Waves of pleasure coursed through Jessie’s body.

And when it was done, only one thing remained in her eyes:
more.

 

Wanda picked up the tattoo machine.
A single movement — quick, almost mechanical.
Less than a minute.

A letter appeared behind Jessie’s ear.

Jessie smiled — wide, bright, almost glowing with happiness.

 

Mistress Smooth stood.
Stepped closer.
Rested her hand on the smooth scalp.

— Now you will lick me thoroughly enough to return to your Mistress at least a part of what you’ve received.
After that, your will shall cease to exist.
The meaning of your life will be service.
Begin.

Jessie obeyed instantly.
Her movements were eager, devoted, absolute.

When it was over, she pulled back and lowered her gaze.

— Good girl.

Wanda gently stroked her head.

And only then did it become visible:
tears were running down the Mistress’s cheeks.

Chapter 4

Wanda and Emmy sat in the café again, looking at each other with something almost like falling in love.

— Wanda, I’ve never asked… what do you do for a living?

Wanda was ready for that question.

— I’m a private hairdresser. I make house calls. Mostly for wealthy clients, — she said with a faint smile.

— Then you have to cut my hair! Graduation’s coming up. Those stupid cheerleaders will parade their blonde manes… and I want to stand out differently.

Wanda sighed.
— Emmy, you know… I don’t think that’s a good idea. Especially right before college.

— You’re just like all of them! I thought you understood me!

Emmy shot to her feet and stormed out of the café.

That same evening, Wanda got a message:
I booked a hairdresser. If it turns out bad, I’ll shave it all off. Though you could’ve done it yourself.

The next day, Wanda was cutting Emmy’s hair at her house.

The room was unmistakably teenage: a poster of Karina on the wall, surrounded by traces of childhood that hadn’t quite disappeared yet. Her parents wouldn’t be back until evening.

And suddenly Wanda felt something strange — as if she herself had become a teenager again, sneaking into harmless trouble with a friend.

 

She finished shaving the sides and the back, then styled the remaining hair. She remembered this version of Karina’s look far too well.

— Wow… — Emmy stared at herself in the mirror, glowing with excitement. — This is exactly what I wanted. I don’t even need to shave it all off. Thank you!

She hugged Wanda.

— And now I want to show you something. Turn around, please… I need to change.

Wanda sat on the bed and obediently turned away.

That shyness was oddly mesmerizing. It had been a long time since anything like it existed in her life — something simple, almost innocent.

— You can look!

 

Wanda turned back.

Emmy was wearing a dress that perfectly recreated one of Karina’s poster looks. Despite her slight frame, it fit flawlessly. The haircut completed the image with uncanny precision.

— Incredible… — Wanda said softly.

There was something magnetic in that mix of boldness and innocence. Maybe she wouldn’t become prom queen in the eyes of her classmates. But for Wanda — she already had.

— I made it myself. Based on that poster. And I think it worked. I’ve got my own ideas too… I really don’t want to go to law school. I want to study art and design. And you’re the only one who understands me.

— I do understand, — Wanda said gently, resting her hand over Emmy’s.

Emmy hesitated.

— I’ve wanted to ask for a while… what’s under your wig?

Wanda knew she couldn’t lie.

She removed it. The tattoo on her forehead was hidden beneath foundation.

— That’s… cool, — Emmy said quietly.

And then — she kissed her.

The kiss lasted several long seconds. For Emmy, it was her first real one. For Wanda, the first in a very long time.

When Emmy’s hand brushed her shoulder, Wanda pulled away sharply.

Her thoughts collided all at once: she’s too young… this is wrong…
But deeper than that was something else — fear. Fear of destroying the fragile, living connection she had finally found.

She stood up quickly, grabbed her wig, muttered something awkward about it being “wrong,” and hurried toward the door.

Emmy stayed behind, confused, but still walked her out.

 

They met again after graduation.

Emmy spoke with excitement about the impression she had made, about how the school quarterback had asked her to dance.

— Though he already had two cheerleaders hanging off him, — she laughed. — Which actually made it funnier.

Wanda laughed too, remembering her own school days.

The conversation drifted back to familiar ground: Emmy wanted to study design, her parents insisted on something else. After the haircut, she had started thinking about getting a tattoo.

Eventually, they reached what both of them had been circling around.

— But you’re a lesbian, Wanda. And you like me. I’ve never had a serious relationship — with anyone. But you… you’re the closest person I have. I’m drawn to you. I want to try.

Wanda looked at her for a long moment.

— Yes, Emmy. I’m drawn to you too. But my past relationships… they were ruined by intimacy. And what we have now means too much to me. I don’t want to lose it. At least — I don’t want to rush it.

More and more questions began to surface in Wanda’s mind.

If she and Emmy really did start something — and it seemed they might — then:
how would she explain the tattoo on her forehead;
whether she would tell her about her real work;
what their relationship would even look like;
and most importantly —

how would she explain Karina?

She couldn’t get rid of her.
Wanda loved her.

But explaining to Emmy that her idol was no longer the person she admired… that felt almost impossible.

Chapter 5

It was evening. Wanda was about to watch a series, Karina already settled at her feet, when the phone rang.

— Wanda, it’s Emmy. I had a huge fight with my parents and left home. I’ve got nowhere to go… can I come to you?

— Yes, of course.

After giving her the address, Wanda only realized once the call ended that her house was hardly ever meant for guests. She quickly covered the word “Mistress” on her forehead with foundation, led a confused Karina into a room and locked the door — and almost immediately heard the bell ring.

There was no time to put on her wig, but it didn’t matter anymore. Emmy had already seen her without it.

When Wanda opened the door, she froze.

In the doorway stood Karina from Henry’s photograph. The same doorway. The same pose. The same haircut. The same gothic makeup, smeared by tears. The resemblance was unsettlingly precise.

Yes, it was Emmy — her face, her dress — but… the tattoo. A full sleeve.

 

Wanda quickly ushered her inside, sat her down in the kitchen, and made her tea. Emmy was crying, explaining in broken fragments: she had refused to apply to law school, submitted her documents to an art school, and spent part of the college money on a tattoo. It wasn’t a whim — she needed it. It made her feel closer to Karina, stronger, capable of anything.

But her father said it was his money, that she should be grateful and follow his orders — orders, as if she weren’t a person but a dog. And if she didn’t want the college he had chosen, then she wouldn’t get any at all. And everyone agreed with him. Even her sister.

— But not you, right? — Emmy looked at Wanda, pleading. — You understand me, don’t you?

And then she broke:
— I have no money… no place to live… no job…

Wanda gently stroked her hair.
— It will work out. I have money, and a place — more than one. If necessary, I’ll pay for your art school. But you’ll have to make peace with your family. For now, you need to rest. In the morning, everything will feel different.

Emmy finished her tea. Wanda showed her the bathroom, gave her a toothbrush, a towel, a robe.

They were already heading upstairs when a sound came from behind one of the doors — a scraping noise, followed by a low, drawn-out moan.

— Quiet, — Wanda said sharply.

— What was that?

— My dog.

— You never said you had a dog.

— She doesn’t do well with strangers. I lock her up when I have guests. Don’t worry — she’s fine.

They went up to the bedroom. Wanda was about to leave when Emmy caught her hand.

— Wanda… thank you. You take care of me without asking anything in return…

She didn’t let her respond — she kissed her. Eager, sudden, sincere.

Wanda didn’t pull away.

They melted into the kiss, into each other, hands moving urgently, searching. Then Emmy ran her hand over Wanda’s shaved head, across her face — and suddenly pulled back.

— What is this?!

Foundation smeared across her fingers. In one swift motion, she wiped it away — revealing the word on Wanda’s forehead.

Wanda understood. Calmly, she took a tissue and wiped the rest clean, no longer hiding it.

— Emmy, I need to tell you something.

 

She sat beside her.

— I’m a dominatrix. That’s my job. I didn’t lie about cutting hair, but I also humiliate people, hurt them, tattoo them, sometimes even brand them. I give them what they want. Direct sex isn’t required, but sometimes I’m involved. This tattoo is part of me — part of my work. And because of it, I’m alone. I don’t have normal human closeness. No simple tenderness. I found that with you — and I’ve been afraid of losing it.

She fell silent.

— If you want to leave… please, at least stay the night. I won’t bother you. By morning, things will be clearer.

Emmy listened, her reaction written plainly across her face: raised brows, wide pupils, parted lips.

— I… I don’t have any prejudice. But I don’t understand this. I can’t even process it…

She looked at Wanda, uncertain.

— I’ll think about it tomorrow.

Then she kissed her again — softer this time.

They lay down together.

The night passed in closeness. Wanda let Emmy take the lead, guiding her gently when she faltered. For both of them, it was something new. Something real.

In the morning, Wanda woke her with a kiss on the forehead.

— Wake up. Your family’s been calling nonstop. You should make peace with them. But remember — don’t let them control you. If anything happens, I’ll help you.

— Thank you… my love. I’m getting up.

Emmy got dressed and went downstairs to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth — and heard the sound again. Scraping. A quiet, drawn-out, almost pleading noise.

Curiosity mixed with guilt. The dog had been locked away because of her.

She approached the door. It was locked — but the key was still in the lock.

A second.
She turned it.

The door opened.

On all fours stood a figure — black-skinned, yellow-eyed, a long tongue hanging from its mouth. It looked straight at her.

— AAAAA!!!

Emmy slammed the door shut, her hands shaking as she fumbled to lock it again. Cold terror seized her whole body.

— Wanda! Wanda!

She ran into the living room, where Wanda was already rushing toward her — but understanding came first.

This wasn’t a dog.
This was a woman.

Kept like this.
A slave. A pet.

The idea of such submission was unbearable to Emmy. She couldn’t comprehend the morality of someone capable of this. And in that instant, it felt like betrayal.

She shoved Wanda aside and ran out of the house, as fast as she could.

Away.

 

Chapter 6

“Don’t call the police — it will only make things worse. Let me explain everything.”
A message from Wanda.
“Half an hour. Our ice cream place.”

It was pouring. Emmy barely made it there, bursting inside soaked through, shivering.

Wanda arrived soon after. She wore the same clothes as the day they first met, but without the wig. Her shaved head was wet, droplets sliding down her forehead, tracing the sharp letters of the word there.

— I’ll get us some ice cream. We can’t just take a table.

She went to the counter. The few customers and the staff glanced at her.

When she came back, she set the cups down at the edge of the table. Neither of them touched them.

— You saw her. You think I made her like that.

A pause.

— I didn’t. It was her choice… and my tragedy. If I could bring her back to being human, we would be happy together.

She looked up.

— But before you leave… there’s one more thing I have to tell you. Something terrible. That’s Karina.

Emmy’s mind fractured, like a disco ball shattering on the floor.

Wanda continued, her voice flat, almost stripped of emotion:

— When Henry died, I worked in social services. I used to visit her. You know that part from the press. We grew close… we fell in love. But her pain started replacing her personality. She slipped deeper into a submissive state, into self-harm. I didn’t understand what was happening — I just played along, clumsily. I realized too late, when her mind had already locked itself into a fabricated reality. That’s when she left me this.

Wanda touched her forehead.

— That part you know too.

Emmy didn’t believe it — and yet she did. The gaps in the story she’d once sensed now filled themselves in. The proof was sitting right in front of her.

— Karina spent five years in a hospital. She only got worse. I can show you the records. I took her out… and spent two years trying to bring her back. I really tried. Nothing worked. She’s stuck like this.

Wanda’s voice softened.

— Yes, the black skin is tattooed. The horns are implants. I did that because otherwise she would hurt herself. At first I tried paint… then I gave up.

She lowered her eyes.

— Yes, she gives me pleasure, and I give her pain. But she can’t exist without it either. For me, this stopped being a choice a long time ago. It’s a burden. I wish it weren’t like this. She can’t just sit beside me… but I would take even that — just her lying at my feet.

Emmy swallowed hard.

— Does she… understand?

— Yes. She’s functional. She can solve problems, write, sing. But she has to be made to do it. On her own, she only wants to submit. She can’t even eat at a table — I had to put a bowl on the floor.

Wanda fell silent. Then she began to cry.

Emmy hesitated, then gently placed her hand over Wanda’s. It was hard — almost physically painful — but at the same time, she could feel that Wanda wasn’t lying.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

— I want to see her.

They drove back in silence.

At one point, Wanda spoke quietly:

— This is Henry’s house. Yesterday… you stood in that doorway exactly like Karina did in that photo. The same door.

Emmy gave a faint, uncertain smile.

They entered.

Karina was waiting for them on her knees.

The same face as on the posters in Emmy’s room. The same cheekbones, the same features — only the gaze was empty, lifted upward in expectation.

And suddenly Emmy understood:

she had closed the door on her again.
Today.
Just like before.

She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Karina.

Karina didn’t react.

Emmy began to cry.