|
Half an hour later, Lauren was still struggling with the apology letter and decided to take a break to take care of her grooming issue. She quickly realized that a razor was not going to be sufficient to the task. After a few minutes of looking through the phonebook and a quick phone call, she walked out to find Don watching TV in the living room.
“Sir, may I leave for a little while?”
“Why?”
“I have an appointment to get waxed, sir.”
Don looked at her with a grin. “Waxed, Lauren? What do you mean?”
“My. . . my pussy, sir. I’m going to get it waxed so the hair is in the shape you described.”
“Very industrious, Lauren. How’s the letter coming along?”
“I’m still working on it, sir, but it will be done before tomorrow.”
“Okay, as long as it is. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The waiting room at the day spa was almost as boring for Lauren as standing with her nose against the wall. At least the magazines are newer, she joked to herself. She didn’t realize that she had spoken out loud until the woman across from her looked up from her own 6-month old “Cosmo”.
Lauren smiled weakly at the woman and looked away. She had always associated the procedure she was there for with strippers and porn stars and she had to keep reminding herself that the rest of the women in the waiting room would just assume she was there for a facial or a pedicure, just like them.
“Lauren?”
She looked up to see a white man with a receding hairline leaning through the doorway to the main area. They exchanged smiles. “I’m Jim. If you’ll just follow me. . .”
She grabbed her purse and followed him musing that, technically, she had no choice. She had read the whole section in her contract from which the “sir” requirement originated and discovered that the requirements were a little more extensive than that. First, she was to “courteously discourage” men from calling her “ma’am” or anything along those lines. Second, she had to honestly answer any question posed to her. And finally, she had to honor any non-sexual requests. There’d even been a helpful little graphic to give the order of precedence: Commands from Donà Requests from Donà Commands from other menà Requests from other men.
She followed Jim into a room that reminded her of a doctor’s office, complete with a raised table with the sliding paper sheet. “Okay, Lauren, if you can just take off your pants and panties and hop up on the table, we’ll get started.”
Lauren hesitated and then decided that “honoring requests” didn’t mean “unquestionably”. “Um, isn’t there. . . won’t a woman be doing this? Sir.”
Jim shrugged. “You asked us to squeeze you in, and all the women are booked at the moment. If you’d like to come back the day after tomorrow, though. . .”
Dismayed, she shook her head. “No, sir.” She started to unbutton her jeans, then realized Jim was just sort of . . . staring . . . at her. She turned around and then shook her head at how silly she was being. It wasn’t like he wasn’t about to get a good look, anyway.
Lauren kicked her shoes off and pulled her jeans down. She hesitated, steeled herself, and pulled her panties down, too, then folded the jeans and panties up and put them on a chair, turned, and hopped up on the table, folding her hands in her lap.
Jim smiled appreciatively. “Now, if you could just lie back,” she did so, “and put your feet up in these stirrups . . .” He unfolded a pair of stirrups from the table. She gulped, then did as she was told. In this position, she could definitely feel that there was a draft in the room, and it seemed to be blowing right into her exposed self.
Lauren fixed her gaze on the ceiling, trying to do anything to keep from reminding herself that, naked from the waist down, she was posed lewdly in front of this man she had just met. She felt a firm grasp on her right ankle and then a strap sliding over it. She looked down in alarm. Jim grinned at her. “Just buckling you into the stirrups so that you don’t accidentally kick me during the waxing.” He repeated the process with her left ankle.
With that, he opened the plastic wrap on a spatula-looking tool and stepped between her legs. Lauren closed her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn’t completely exposed to his gaze; pretending didn’t work. A moment later, Jim gave a wordless grunt. Lauren opened her eyes.
“Sorry,” he said. He gestured toward some plugged-in electrical device that he was holding. “This warmer is supposed to get the wax warm enough to soften it, but not so warm that it burns you. This one’s not working though. I’ll be right back.”
He turned and left before Lauren could ask him to release her from the stirrups. She lay there, legs spread wide, for what seemed like hours but must have only been a minute or two. She half expected a crowd of people to come through the door at any moment to make her day perfect.
Finally, Jim returned, whistling and apparently with a working wax warmer. “Alright, then.” He stepped between her legs again. A moment later, Lauren felt the warm wax being spread along a segment of her pubic area; it was almost relaxing.
Then, Jim pressed a piece of what looked like parchment paper into the hardening wax and, a moment later, yanked it out. Lauren yelled in surprise and pain. She realized now just how necessary the ankle restraints were—her involuntary response had been to try to close her legs which would have earned Jim a hard knee to the face. She was sure she had felt every single hair individually torn out. Well, at least it was over now, she thought.
“Ok,” Jim said. “Another five or six of those and we’ll be done on this side.” Lauren’s eyes popped wide. Five or six more?!? And what did he mean by “this side”?
The second wax application provoked the same responses, and after the third, Lauren could feel tears welling in her eyes. Jim must have noticed, too. “Would you like to take a short break?”
She nodded, clenching her eyes but not stopping the tears. “Yes, please, sir.”
“Ok, I can give you a minute or two.” He leaned back against the counter and she realized that her “break” wasn’t actually going to involve being released from the stirrups or not having him stare at her exposed vulva. She sighed and just tried to focus on the fact that at least she wasn’t currently having pubic hair ripped out by the follicle. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before. This your first time?”
Really? She was naked from the waist down, legs spread wide and restrained, and he thought this was a normal time for casual conversation? She looked down at him and then wished she hadn’t. He was clearly enjoying the view, staring at her half-trimmed private area, and that only added to the humiliation that she was feeling. But she had to answer. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s a pretty specific request you’re asking for. Any reason?”
She closed her eyes as though that could shut out the room and considered telling him that was just the way she liked it. But, no, she had to answer honestly. “Somebody asked me to, sir, and I agreed.” Okay, that might have been a white lie, but it was close enough to the truth.
“Heh. Lucky guy, I guess. Okay, break time’s over.” He stepped between her legs and started slathering on the wax again. The warmth was less enjoyable now that she knew what followed. . .
RRRIIIP! “AUGGH!” Lauren cried out. That one had taken her by surprise.
RRRIIIP! She was crying freely, now. The break hadn’t been long enough to reset the tears.
RRRIIIP! Finally, it was over. Lauren fought back sobs as Jim unstrapped her ankles.
“Okay, now, I just need you to roll over, tuck your knees up under your stomach, and reach back and spread your cheeks.”
The words hung in the air for a moment while Lauren hesitated. Maybe he wasn’t serious? But, no, she knew he was. She considered refusing, considered telling him she was happy with the work he’d done so far and that was all she needed. But, again, she knew she couldn’t do that. First, a man had told her to do it, so she had to do it. Second—and more importantly, in her mind—she’d already done this much to avoid a punishment from Don; all that pain and embarrassment would be for nothing if she didn’t let Jim finish the job and Don ended up punishing her anyway.
So, she slowly turned over, slid her knees up under her torso and—leaning forward onto her forehead—reached back to spread her cheeks.
Jim gave out a low whistle. “I didn’t notice this before but have you . . . been spanked recently?”
Dammit! She still had marks from her earlier spanking! Lauren felt tears—oh-so-familiar recently—welling up. It wasn’t enough that she, a grown woman, had to get spanked. It wasn’t enough that she had to expose herself in front of this strange man. Now she had to discuss her spankings while posed so lewdly?
She took a breath and composed herself. “Yes, sir.” And I’m going to get another spanking tomorrow, so can we please just get this done so I can have SOME time to myself today, she added in her head.
“Wow. Well, now I’m curious. What was that about?”
“I . . . I spilled juice on some paperwork of his. But it’s more complicated than that. Can we just continue, sir?”
“Sure thing. It’s just not something I see a lot, that’s all.” The last part almost brought the tears back for Lauren.
She heard him stepping up behind her. “Now, I should just warn you that . . . damn, I’m out of wax. Just wait right there, please. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait! Can’t I—” but the sound of the door closing cut Lauren off before she could ask to get off the table. She decided that “wait right there” didn’t mean “freeze in position,” though, and released her cheeks. A minute or two later, she felt a sudden increase in the draft and turned her head. Goddammit! The door was open; the latch must not have caught!
She couldn’t reach it from where she was, but if anyone walked by, she’d be clearly visible from the hallway. Was it worth a strapping from Don if she had to report to him that she’d disobeyed a man in order to avoid further humiliation? She was still contemplating that question when one of the spa workers walked by leading . . . oh God, Jason Trimble—her good friend Lana’s younger brother.
He did a double-take and stopped dead in his tracks. Lauren turned her head and buried her face in her forearms, praying that Jason hadn’t recognized her.
“Naughty, naughty, Lauren,” she heard the door shut just after Jim’s words. Oh, PLEASE, don’t let Jason have heard my name, she thought. “I thought I told you to stay just as you were.” He patted her butt. “Now spread those cheeks for me.” Jim, apparently, had decided that her admission of being spanked had allowed him to take even more liberties.
Lauren complied with a barely murmured, “Sorry, sir.”
“Now, as I was saying, I should warn you that most of our customers report that this part hurts a lot more. It should only take three or four this time, though.”
She gulped and noticed her breathing rate increasing. Hurt more? She hadn’t thought that was possible. Already, Jim was spreading the warmed wax. Instead of the previous soothing feeling, though, this time it felt . . . well, gross. He was pressing the paper on it, now. Oh, God, here it came . . .
RRRIIIP! “Aaaah!” Jim hadn’t exaggerated. Lauren released her cheeks as she clenched her fists.
“Hey!” Jim smacked her butt hard. “Keep your cheeks spread. If the wax hardens on this spreader because I’m waiting for you, you’re gonna stretch this way out, and I’m gonna have to charge you for an extra session.”
Lauren murmured another respectful apology and pulled her cheeks apart again, resolving to control her reaction.
Jim started spreading the wax again, pressed the paper, and . . .
RRRIIIP! “Aaaah!” No preparation could keep her from yelling out, but at least she managed to keep her hands in place.
“Hmm. One more will do it, I think.” He almost sounded disappointed.
Jim spread the wax again, pressed the paper, and . . .
RRRIIIP! “Aaaah!” She was crying again.
“Looks good to me.” He patted her butt. “How about you?” Lauren looked back to where Jim was holding up a mirror for her inspection. Inside her crack, everything was red . . . but hair-free.
“It looks good, sir.”
“Ok, turn over.”
She complied, and Jim held the mirror. Again, except for a small triangle of hair, everything was red. She could trim the hair down to a proper length on her own, she decided. “That looks good, too, sir.”
“Great.” He patted her inner right thigh. “You can pay at the front desk.”
With that, he turned and left the room. Lauren waited for a moment, getting her crying under control, before pulling her panties and jeans back on and making her way out of the building with as much dignity as she could manage.