By T. Rex
"Amanda..."
I snapped out of my daze.
"Your room is ready, please follow me."
Nervously, I got up and followed the receptionist. "See you
in a little bit," my co-worker Jenny whispered as she
winked at me. This was my first time at a waxing salon. It
was odd how I ended up here to begin with. Lately I felt I
was losing my touch with men. Now don't get me wrong, I
still believe I'm a very attractive woman.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm getting older and showing
signs of age. (I'll be turning 34 this year.) Or perhaps...
I don't know exactly how to phrase this, perhaps it's
because I'm not always the kindest of people. Some would
probably down right call me a bitch. Or quite possibly, my
reputation of being a tease has finally caught up to me.
Anyway, for whatever reason, I felt I needed to do
something to spice up my act. Something that I thought
would enhance my sexual appeal. I just didn't know what
that "something" was... until my co-worker Jenny gave me
this coupon for a free waxing. It was kind of odd, since
personally I didn't think Jenny liked me that much. In
fact, the way I acted towards her sometimes, I wouldn't
have been surprised if she thought I was a bitch.
"Here we go. Please step inside, and I'll go over a few
things with you." She closed the door behind us. "I see you
were referred to us by Jenny, that's wonderful" she rambled
on as I took a seat on the opposite side of a small table
from her. "We have a couple of quick forms you to sign.
More or less it states that today's services will be
absolutely free of any monetary charges and is a promotion
to attract more business."
Her calm and professional demeanor eased my mind a little.
I was more than a little skeptical about this place. It
wasn't in the best part of town. After all, it was in the
same building as the only sex shop/XXX video store in our
small town. "I'd like to also say that we treat all of our
customer's needs in strict confidentiality." That phrase
captured my attention again. "Now if you liked to sign the
form here and we can get started." I quickly signed without
paying too much attention to the "contract.". The
receptionist handed me a medical gown and asked me to strip
to whatever I was comfortable with and then left the room.
I decided to only strip to my underwear. I was still
uncertain to whether or not I wanted to go "all-the-way"
with the waxing. After all, I had no idea how much it was
going to hurt. Besides, I didn't want the wax therapist to
think I was a slut or anything like that. I'd try to be
subtle about it, just in case this place didn't do "that"
sort of waxing. In a few minutes, I heard a knock on the
door. A mid-age lady entered the room. She looked very
professional. She was of a trim build, had her hair tied
back in a knot, and wore a medical lab coat.
Probably in her mid forties, she looked attractive for her
age in a refined sort of way. She introduced herself as
Sarah and asked me where I wanted to start as she directed
me towards the examination table in the center of the room.
Waxing the legs was not nearly as painful as I thought it
would be, probably largely due to her expertise and care in
the procedure. After she finished me legs, she massaged a
little lotion on them a little to make them feel better and
asked if there was anything else I wanted done, like my
back or armpits. Without saying a word and looking at her
shyly, I pulled down my panties. Boy, I hope she didn't
notice I was a little moist down there. Perhaps it was my
imagination, but I thought a saw a little smirk on her
face.
As she walked to the desk she mentioned that this would
hurt more than my legs. I told her she I thought I could
handle it. She pulled a pair of scissor out from the desk
drawer and started cutting my pubic hair. She told me that
she could only do small strips at a time; otherwise it
would hurt too much. I was glad that it seemed like she
knew what she was doing and was keeping a very professional
and serious composure.
She asked me to hold me legs apart with my hands at my
ankles. She said this was to prevent me from flailing
around too much. It turned out this was for good reason.
The first strip was excruciatingly painful. So much so that
my knee jerking reflexes made me let go of my leg and
accidentally kicked her. I apologized. She chuckled a bit
and seemed to have a good sense of humor about it. She
tried again. I let go of my legs once more. At least this
time I managed not to hit her, but it was a near miss.
"Hmmm. I'm not so sure this is going to work." She said as
she walked towards her desk once again. I looked down at my
throbbing pussy. It was nicely groomed, but I was
discouraged at just how little she was able to pull off.
Boy when she meant that she could only do small amount at a
time, she was joking! I heard her shuffling around in the
drawer again a little bit and then came back.
"Perhaps these will help." She was holding some leather
straps. Before I had time to protest, she already had one
of straps securely fastening one of my ankles to my wrist.
I decided not to say anything, largely because I didn't
want her to stop without completing the job. After all, I
had the courage come this far. I convinced myself this was
for her own safety, as I didn't want to kick her to death
before this day was over.
Once both of arms where strapped to my legs she got back to
work. Obviously, the straps didn't lessen the pain at all,
and I was really tensing up after each pull of the wax
strip - scrunching up my face in agony. At least up to this
point I wasn't screaming or making too much noise. After
all, I didn't want anyone in else to hear me. I'd really be
embarrassed then.
"Tisk, tisk, tisk, I know it's hard, but you've got to try
to relax," she stated. "Scrunching up your face like that
is going to leave you with wrinkles. You wouldn't want that
to happen, would you? Here, let me give you something for
your face to help you out."
Sarah came back with what looked liked to be a heated pad
in the shape of one of those blindfold sleeping masks.
Here, this will prevent you from tensing up your face as
she rapped the strap around my head and cover my eyes. "Now
just sit back and try to relax." The heat pads soothed my
face, but being tied up and now being blindfolded
definitely didn't help me relax. But again, I chose not to
protest. (As if I had a CHOICE at this point.)
She started up again - making really good progress. I had
more and more difficulty stifling any whimpers or moans -
as taking away my sense of sight seemed to heighten my
other senses. But I tried my best to keep silent and not
give myself away.
She kept on asking me to spread my legs more, and it soon
became apparent to her that my legs and arms were getting
very uncomfortable in their awkward position from all of
the squirming I was doing. She asked if it would be easier
if I had something to support and rest my legs on. I agreed
and I felt my feet getting locked somehow into something
that felt like stirrups. Since my legs were securely locked
in the stirrups, I was wondering if it was necessary to
keep my wrists tied to my ankles. As I opened my mouth to
ask the question, she quickly jammed something phallic-like
into my mouth.
"This will keep you from scaring away any of our 'valuable'
customers," she stated in a patronizing voice. "You WERE
getting a little loud there." The gag was strapped around
my head snugly.... and was going nowhere. "I don't think
you would be much of a bother to any of the other guests
now." She slurred.
Although in the back of my head I knew something wasn't
quite right, I assured myself this was all for the best,
after all, I didn't want my co-worker Jenny from getting
any satisfaction from hearing me scream in misery. That
bitch, that's probably why she gave me the free waxing
coupon. Oh well, at least she wouldn't get any satisfaction
of knowing how much this was hurting me.
"Well, since you're all nicely packaged up now, I guess I
can quickly finish you up now." as she liberally took
larger amounts of my pussy hair off. She seemed less gentle
now. At this point, I didn't care. I just wanted to get
this waxing over with. After a few more large, painful
strokes, she was finished.
"Well, don't you just looking wonderful now..." she
announced proudly as she rubbed her hand back and forth
over my now smooth mound. "I just love my handy work."
I was wondering just exactly which handy work she was
referring to.
My mound was burning, but her soothing strokes over my now
ultra sensitive waxed pussy helped. "This should help
soothe the burning sensation." She poured what felt like
massage oil on my tummy. She took both her hands and
started rubbing them back and forth along my belly, slowly
working in longer and longer strokes until she was reaching
all the up to my chest all the way down to my pussy. She
spent extra time around each of my mounds, especially the
newly waxed one. Little did I know I was moaning through my
gag as my natural reflexes of lust started consuming by
body.
"My, you certainly are wet down her. Let me help you out."
She parted last line of defense, my cunt lips, and slowly
slid a finger in my pussy, playing with my clit with her
other hand. She quickly worked her way to two fingers, and
then three, and then four. (I've never had four fingers
inside of me before.) Getting the fifth finger in took more
time. All of a sudden, she took her fingers out, but still
kept me worked up by playing with my clit.
"There, you're all stretched out there, let's try the other
hole now. I tried to protest, but she didn't pay attention
to me. Her variously lubricated finger slid right in my
anus despite my best efforts to keep her out of there. By
the time the third finger was in, I was really getting
worked up and matched each of her with thrusts with a
thrust of my own. I had all but forgotten how my pussy had
ached, as it was aching in a different fashion now. But
just before I was about to cum, she pulled her fingers out
of my ass and stopped playing with my clit too.
"That's enough for now," she said as I moaned in
frustration through my gag.
"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere - ya hear," she
laughed a little as she left the room.
