Page 8 of Her Shameful Wedding Night (Corporate Correction)

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“Do you have an appointmentto have this waxed?” asked Nurse Carter conversationally.

“Uh...” Zoe wanted desperately to say an actual word, any word. “Ah...” She almost gotNoout, then, but suddenly the idea that Nurse Carter had started to take pictures, or even to make a video, of her pussy and her tiny bottom-hole, seemed fully to take hold in her mind. Her body did that awful thing again, the helpless movement of her hips and her thighs, and—much, much worse—she felt herself clench, down there. HerNobecame the most shameful little mewing sound, because she knew the nurse must have seen her pussy move, in an unmistakable sign of...

Of what?the rational part of her brain demanded, clearly expecting the rest of her to cower before it. Zoe knew herself, despite not having the money for college, to be an intelligent, thoughtful girl. She had decided, rationally, not to sleep with Bradley before their wedding night. Now she would decide, rationally, to reject these strange feelings, to get through this exam, and to tell Bradley that she didn’t care what the nurse’s report said or how much money the state would give them—if he meant to insist on joining this program, he could find another girl, a girl who would go... over... his...

Her face went hot as the sun as it happened again, as her pussy contracted again at the image of herself going over her husband’s knee. Her face to the floor, her bottom raised and bared to receive the justice of his firm hand, as long and as hard as he decided she needed.

An unmistakable sign of...

Need.A real sob came from deep in her chest, now.

“Shh, honey,” said Nurse Carter, her voice very compassionate now. “It’s okay. You’re a healthy young woman, and your vagina is just getting you ready for your husband’s penis. If you don’t have an appointment for a wax, I can shave you right now, if you’d like. That would probably be the safest thing anyway, since girls who haven’t been waxed before sometimes flare up a little, and you wouldn’t want that.”

“B-but...” Zoe felt overwhelmed, now. She hadn’t even thought about... that. She supposed she knew that some girls bared themselves down there, but the way Nurse Carter talked about it made the embarrassment even worse. A girl might get a Brazilian, she had thought, in order to wear a certain bathing suit—the kind of bathing suit Zoe had never worn but had sometimes thought she might like to wear. The nurse, though, seemed to talk about waxing and shaving as if a bride would do it for some other reason, as if it were part of thistraditional marriageprogram.

Together with her mortifying words about Zoe’s pussy, Nurse Carter’s notion of what was natural for the grooming of a young woman soon to have her wedding night made Zoe’s heart race and her wrists struggle against the awful restraints. The tension that arose in her muscles even from this slight effort, the consciousness of being restrained so that a nurse could take pictures of her virgin pussy, had a sudden, terrible effect on Zoe’s entire body that her mind instantly labeledvolcanic. Her hips moved again, her pussy clenched again, and the need rocketed through her whole body. To her absolute horror, she felt a trickle of her personal, private wetness go down between her bottom-cheeks and touch the little ring there with its warm moisture.

“That thought arouses you quite a bit, doesn’t it, honey?”

“No!” Zoe said. “It... no... I’m, you know, I’m a...” Her brain searched desperately. “I’m a good girl.” That old, old phrase sounded both extremely lame and very inaccurate: she remembered leaning against the counter, putting her hand down there to rub. She remembered her hand between her thighs in bed at night, thinking of Bradley, of her wedding night, of what happened on a wedding night.

“I’m sure you are, Zoe,” said Nurse Carter, looking up from the stool but still holding the handheld right there. “But even good girls need ongoing discipline from their husbands.”

Zoe wailed, because the nurse’s words had made it happen again, and now she felt more arousal seeping from her. She took sharp breaths through her nose, and smelled it even more strongly. That made her close her eyes and wrinkle her forehead, and she found she couldn’t meet the nurse’s eyes anymore: she put her head back, feeling tears form in the corners of her eyes.

“Shh, honey,” the nurse said. “It’s okay. One of the best things about this program is that you’re going to get what you need without having to ask for it.”

“Oh, please,” Zoe said weakly, “I... I don’t.”

But Nurse Carter made no reply to this protest, and instead returned to the previous, just as shameful topic. “You didn’t say whether you have an appointment for a wax, but I’m guessing you don’t. I’m going to go ahead and shave you now, and if you do have an appointment maybe you can postpone it until after your honeymoon.”

Zoe opened her eyes, but she couldn’t find the courage to raise her head. “I...” she tried weakly, but listened to her voice trail off without effect as she gazed up at the fluorescent lights and acoustic tiles.

The nurse it seemed had no intention of ceasing the flow of her words, even as she rolled her stool to the desk and got something clunky out of a cabinet. Only a moment later, it seemed to Zoe, the motor of an electric clipper started up with an angry buzzing noise.

“Your husband will probably want your vulva and anal area waxed once a month, if not every two weeks, when he gets a chance to see what a good aesthetician can do. The program has a special subsidy for that.”

Zoe finally did manage to raise her head to look down her bound, naked body at this piece of information.

“What? I mean... why? For waxing?”

Nurse Carter looked up at her briefly, then returned her attention to Zoe’s pussy as she began to answer. Zoe noticed that at least the nurse had put down her handheld on the little desk. The thought of Bradley seeing the pictures from it, though, of him looking at them on his phone or his laptop, came to her just at the same moment two other things happening: the nurse began to speak and the buzzing clippers made contact with Zoe’s body, just at the top of the little mound above the furry cleft of her pussy.

“Yes, for wax—” Nurse Carter said, but Zoe’s body interrupted her words. This movement of her hips, this shudder through her whole body, and this moan from her chest affected her limbs so urgently that despite the webbing holding her down, the nurse had to pull the clipper away as if to keep it from cutting the most tender area of a young bride’s body.

The tears in Zoe’s eyes fell, then, and her face burned. A tiny sob came from her chest. She tried to move her hands from her sides to cover her face, but ended up struggling against the webbing yet again, so that the terribly delicious feeling of being held down sent another shudder through her frame. The sob that she emitted then racked her whole upper body.

“Oh, honey,” the nurse said, all compassion now. “It’s okay. It’s very good. When Bradley gets home he’s going to talk this all over with you, and you’re going to see how good it is. Let me just get you nice and tidy for him now, and then I’ll take a look inside.”

Nurse Carter put the clippers back, then, as Zoe gave a little moan at the vibration there and the wicked buzzing, and began to shave the bride’s pussy for her wedding night. The nurse picked up the conversation again, as if she wanted to give Zoe something to concentrate on other than what she was doing between her thighs, though part of Zoe wished she could tell Nurse Carter that this particular conversation didn’t help at all.

“The program pays for aesthetician’s visits because it’s designed to make sure wives and husbands understand what a traditional marriage means. And that’s probably not exactly what you think it means, because the science the program is based on is actually pretty new, and so even though we call ittraditional marriage, we’re really not talking about 1950s stuff, let alone, you know pioneer days or Victorian era or anything.”

Through all this, the clippers kept going, and little tremors kept traveling through Zoe’s body, radiating out from the places from which Nurse Carter took away her pussy hair, and then the embarrassing hair between her bottom-cheeks, to her stiff little nipples, to her toes, to her fingertips. Still, the flow of the nurse’s words did seem to help the thing feel a bit more bearable, a bit more normal. Tiny whimpers came from her chest with each breath, but Nurse Carter’s tone, speaking to a naked, bound girl in a matter-of-fact voice, even made Zoe feel that maybe she could talk to Bradley about this strange, alarming experience without dying of mortification.

“What does that mean?” Zoe asked then as the nurse stopped talking for a moment, perhaps in order to concentrate on trimming the last patches of pubic fleece, right over the place whose name Zoe had never said out loud, whether in its oddly formal real name or its filthy sounding common one.Clitoris. Clit. My clit, where Bradley... because he’s my husband... where he’ll touch me because he wants to, and I have to let him even though it’s so naughty...

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