Page 11 of Innocence Tamed
“You’ll need to open your legs, honey,” Simone said, her tone dispassionate. “And bend your knees up toward your chest.”
CHAPTER 5
Audrey
I hesitated, then slowly complied, exposing myself completely to this stranger. It felt like yet another surrender in a day full of them. How many more would there be?
“First time can be a bit uncomfortable,” Simone warned as she pulled on latex gloves. “But most girls find it gets easier each time.”
I nodded mutely, staring fixedly at the ceiling as I felt her apply something warm and sticky to my pubic area.
“So, what brought you to Selecta Arrangements?” Simone asked conversationally, as if we were chatting at a café rather than while she prepared to rip hair from my most intimate parts.
“I lost my internship,” I said quietly. “My visa’s about to expire. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Ah,” she said knowingly. “That happens a lot. Selecta’s good at finding girls when their situations mean they’re willing to face up to their needs.”
Before I could respond to that disturbing observation, she pressed a cloth strip firmly against the warm wax and then, without warning, ripped it away.
I gasped at the sharp sting, my body jerking involuntarily.
“Sorry,” Simone said, not sounding particularly sorry. “First strip is always the worst.”
She continued working methodically, applying wax, pressing the cloth strips, and ripping them away. Each pull sent a jolt of pain through me, though I had to admit it wasn’t as terrible as I’d feared. What was worse was the casual way Simone manipulated my body—pulling my labia taut, instructing me to hold positions that left me completely exposed, even having me draw my knees up to my chest so she could reach the sensitive skin between my buttocks.
“Almost done,” she said after what felt like an eternity. “Just need to get the rest of your bottom. Turn over for me.”
I rolled onto my stomach, then followed her instructions to get onto my knees and elbows, my bottom raised high. The position was mortifyingly exposed, but I was beyond protesting at this point.
“You’ve got a very pretty little hole,” Simone commented casually as she applied wax between my cheeks. “Your sponsor will appreciate that.”
I buried my face in my arms, unable to respond. Simone ripped a strip away, and I whimpered, biting my lip, as I thought againabout the man Nurse Georges had conjured up—the sponsor who would pay the premium to claim me… conquer me… master me…
“You’re all set,” Simone told me. “You’ll want to put lotion on tonight to soothe the area a bit. You should make an appointment for two weeks out—SA covers all your waxes, and sponsors can be particular.”
I scrambled to turn and looked around for my underwear and my skirt. Just that movement felt strange, between my legs, and I felt my mouth twist to the side at the distracting new sensation.
“That’s…” I said, with no idea of what kind of adjective I meant to finish the thought with. My cheeks flushed as I contemplated the idea of being held to such an embarrassing standard of hygiene.
“I’m serious,” Simone continued, as if she thought I might be in denial about the importance of the matter. “Some of them will report you if they think you’re letting yourself go down there. Or… you know… a lot of them will just take the matter into their own hands and whip you.”
The blush in my face turned into a whole-body surge of heat. I had seen the vague references totraditional discipline, but I supposed now that I had thought that meant simply following a sponsor’s lead, or something like that.
I stared at Simone, as she put the things on her cart in order. She glanced up at me, clearly noticing my confusion, how I had stopped in the middle of putting my panties on.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “Selecta made you the offer when they did because you need help—but their specialty isn’t really that kind of need.”
“What?” I asked, as I raised my underwear hastily, then had to bite my lip as I became aware of how strange my pussy felt, bare and smooth against the cotton.
“I know it’s hard to think about, especially at the start,” Simone said with a wry smile that made me think she had first-hand knowledge of the subject. “And I don’t want to distress you, because you’re going to be upset enough without me adding to it. But… think hard about what you really, really need.”
I realized that my breathing and my heart rate had both sped up wildly. Simone could clearly see my physical distress. She gave me a sympathetic smile.
“You should get going,” she said gently. “I bet your photoshoot is starting soon.”
Room 1650 was across the hall and two doors down. On the door, the sign saidPhotography. I stepped into the studio, still trying to adjust to the unfamiliar feeling between my legs. The freshly waxed skin felt impossibly smooth and extremely vulnerable, as if a layer of protection had been stripped away from me—as it literally had been, though I had never thought of my pubic curls as any sort of shield.
The reception area looked sleek and minimalist, with black leather chairs and large framed photographs on the walls. I couldn’t help but notice that all the photos featured beautiful young women in various states of undress, though they were tasteful enough that they might have appeared in upscale fashion magazines. The lighting was soft and flattering, making each subject look ethereal and desirable.
