Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Ingrid?” she asked, looking straight at me. New heat surged into my face; she knew why I had come, I felt certain. I thought I could see it in her eyes. Not just that Cathy had booked me for a full Brazilian, but that the Selecta girls who got full Brazilians were the sexual playthings of their bosses.
That knowing look in the woman’s eyes faded almost immediately, replaced by an expression of sympathy that almost made me feel more mortified.
“I’m Samantha,” she told me. “You can follow me.”
I followed Samantha into the treatment room, feeling a mix of anxiety and shame swirling inside me. The room was dimly lit with soothing music playing in the background, creating an atmosphere that should have been relaxing under different circumstances. Samantha gestured for me to have a seat on the massage table, covered in faux leather and draped with a length of crisp white paper that crinkled under my jeans when I sat.
I winced and blushed at the same time as I remembered yet again that I had no panties on. Back at my apartment after the degrading, overwhelming interview I had considered disobeying Mr. Alden’s command. I told myself that I had obeyed only because the aesthetician, for all I knew, might report back to Cathy and Mr. Alden about whether I had followed his humiliating instruction.
Samantha handed me a soft robe.
“Go ahead and get undressed,” she told me.
I waited for her to leave, but instead she sat down and began to do something with the unfamiliar equipment.
“Are you…?” I said, certain that my meaning would come across.
Samantha looked up with a frown.
“Going to leave? No, Ingrid. For Selecta girls we don’t leave.”
I felt my face blush deep crimson. I had known she would see the bruises on my backside that I had observed with mingled horror and helpless arousal in the mirror at home, but the thought of having to expose them to her made my heart beat like a drum.
Taking a deep breath, I stood up and turned around to face the wall. This way I would get it over with, I told myself. And I wouldn’t have to see the other woman’s face when I lowered my jeans.
I took off my t-shirt and dropped it on a nearby table. Keeping my eyes lowered, I unbuttoned my jeans. I pulled them down, feeling like I was confessing it all to Samantha—that I had behaved badly at my new job and received the just, old-fashioned reward from my boss’ paddle.
When I finally stood there exposed, I found to my distress that I couldn’t help letting my gaze steal to a mirror a little off to the side. I swallowed hard as I saw the purple bruises on my bottom cheeks and upper thighs, stark against my pale skin.
Worse, I saw Samantha looking frankly at my backside, as if assessing Mr. Alden’s handiwork.
My cheeks burning, I grabbed the robe and struggled into it. For a moment, my eyes met Samantha’s in the mirror. I saw a blush come into her cheeks, and I felt obscurely grateful for it.
She broke eye contact, looking over at the massage table.
“Go ahead and lie down on your back,” she told me. “Put your knees up for me and spread them nice and wide.”
I did as she instructed, feeling my face heat up even more at the intimacy of the position. The robe fell away onto my lap, exposing me completely as Samantha rolled herself and her little wheeled table over.
Without further warning she took a sterile wipe and started to rub it between my legs and, to my dismay, my bottom-cheeks as well. I couldn’t help yelping a little at the contact with the marks Mr. Alden had left. My pussy felt almost as sore as my bottom, and a thrill of unwelcome arousal went through me as I remembered how hard my new boss had pounded his cock into me.
“I’m going to wax your pubic area and your bottom crack this afternoon,” she explained matter-of-factly. “I’ll start from the top and make my way down. Now, try to relax; it might be a bit uncomfortable, but I promise your boss will like what he sees.”
My whole body burned with shame. I wondered for what seemed the millionth time whether I should just get up, grab my clothes, and run away, never to come back here—and never to return to my new, outwardly amazing job at one of the most powerful companies in the world.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the recollection of the sound of Samantha’s humiliating words. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. My heart kept racing. The anticipation of having my most sensitive areas waxed unnerved me terribly all on its own. Knowing that this woman understood precisely why I had come—that her job was to make my private parts attractive for my boss’ enjoyment—made the experience feel like an otherworldly ordeal.