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Another fake whisper.
“Our butts.How… well… I mean…”
I had managed not to look at April for several minutes, too embarrassed at the thought of what I would see on her face. The note of hesitation I had just heard in her voice, though, made me actually turn to look at her face, which she had turned to me. I took a surprising amount of comfort from the other girl’s expression of concern and the blush in her cheeks.
She giggled suddenly, and then continued in a rush.
“I mean I don’t know about you, but I kind of always knew. And it’s just that Selecta knew more about it, or maybe they were more sure about it… I don’t know, I mean, thank goodness Scott figured it out, I guess? Even if it’s so embarrassing to talk about?”
Reba turned the clipper off.
You did always know,said the observer inside me.Remember when Rick rubbed your bottom, when you were cuddling?
I felt a flash of heat in my face as I did remember—how I had squirmed back against him, my jean-covered bottom seeking his lap, even as my voice said, “Quit it, Ricky.”
Selecta knew. Now Rick knows.
The sudden warmth of the wax, the stroke of the applicator stick across the top of my pussy, brought a little gasp from my lips. April’s words had thrown me into a distressingly sexy reverie, but Reba pulled me out of it as she began the process of baring me between my legs.
I had felt a little alarm at the prospect of the heat involved, but the wax seemed the temperature of the nice hot towels they had given us in first class on the flight to Chicago. My gasp turned into a sigh of relaxation as Reba pressed the cloth strip atop the wax, then turned to repeat the process for April.
The aesthetician worked so fast that I barely had time to realize what would happen next before I felt her fingers grasp the edge of the cloth strip. Then I cried out as Reba ripped out the wiry stubble left by the clipper, and my whole body squirmed in the chair. I felt a very ambiguous sense of gratitude to the restraints around my knees and waist. Without them I might well have hurt myself a little, just with the initial shock of pain and the worrying sound of the wax tearing out the remnants of my golden curls, though the discomfort faded almost instantly.
I heard April let out a sharp breath through her nostrils, and I heard the distressing sound again.
“See?” she said, her voice sounding just a little strained. “Not that bad, right?”
Reba had started to smooth wax further down, on the right side, near my clit and over that side of the cleft of my labia. My tummy filled with butterflies despite the soothing feeling, thankfully not even close to the intensity of the clipper. She pressed down the cloth, and she turned to April.
“Just look at me,” the other girl, the other young wife having her pussy bared for her husband, said. “Don’t even think—”
I interrupted her with my cry of pain. I felt my hands ball into fists at my sides.
“See?” April said again. “I mean—ow!—it’s totally bearable.”
I had tears in the corners of my eyes—and so did April. But I knew my new friend, my sponsor, had it right: it was totally bearable, from the point of view of what my body could stand. It definitely didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as Rick’s belt.
But whether I could bear it, as a whole—life in Rocky Falls, as a submissive wife subject to her husband’s firm hand… well, I didn’t know whether to feel reassured that Selecta and the New Modesty knew me so well, or to feel like I absolutely had to get out of there forever—if I couldn’t win Rick over to a saner way to live here.
How very bratty, said the observer as Reba applied the next strip, all the way down between my bottom-cheeks, to make my anus more pleasing for my husband.I wonder how Rick will handle it, when you decline to let him use you there tonight.
A deep shudder went through my whole body.
Fear,I insisted to myself.Worry. Anxiety. Nothing else. Selecta can think they know me, and how I feel about… that, all they want. I’m the boss of me—and I’m definitely the boss of my ass.
CHAPTER29
Mandy
It took every shred of composure I had not to squirm in the passenger seat of April’s Mercedes as we drove to the country club. Walking into the stately building, something like a French chateau plopped down in the rolling hills of a gorgeous midwestern golf course, I felt like every well-dressed onlooker could see through my skirt—could tell from my awkward gait that my dominant husband had taken me in hand and started to train me with the utmost severity in my conjugal duties.
I felt like they could see the bruises from Rick’s belt, the bareness of my most intimate places, and the lacy white thong panties April had presented to me at the day spa.
“From Rick,” she had said, handing me the slim box that held both the panties and a matching bra. “He chose them from the New Modesty site, and I get to give them to you.”
She had made me, blushing furiously, put them on and look in the mirror as she and Reba paid me compliments on my body that seemed much more humiliating than any insult could ever be.
Made you?asked the increasingly sarcastic observer.
