Driving To Distraction

A short story of submission, pain and obedience

Looking at the directions on Google Maps, I followed the route through this dismally grey morning. The rain was falling hard enough to need the wipers but not so bad I couldn't see the interstate, just a lot of spray. For the last 12 months I had seen her every 5-weeks and the journey had taken just 5 minutes, as she was only a mile from my house. Now, since she had moved 25 miles away it would take me more than half an hour to reach her. What a nuisance; perhaps this was a test of my commitment?

I pulled into the driveway at her new address. A long one-storey brick building, probably built in the 70's and having seen better days. I checked the exact address and pulled into an empty parking space just outside her front door. I was early, and I sat in the driver's seat waiting and checking my texts. Through the glass of the window next to the door I could see the profile of her boss sitting there, but she was not glancing outside. A few minutes passed and the door opened; it appeared a woman was leaving and saying thanks and good-bye. I didn't look up as I didn't want to make any eye contact with anyone. A minute later I got a text. "U can come in."

I walked up to the door and turned the knob, it was unlocked. At her previous location in the city, the door was kept locked and she would always come and let me in. I walked inside to a small reception area; the floors and main wall were clad in what looked like newly-installed Carrera marble. The décor included fresh paint and a beautiful art installation on one entire wall: hanging from floor to ceiling were hundreds of artificial roses and carnations. This had been brought over from her old place. The boss stepped out from behind a door and greeted me cheerfully by my first name. She thanked me for making the effort to come to the new location, and seemed genuinely happy to see me. I was always struck by how radiant she looked. She was both elegant in her style and manners, her very long bleach-blonde braided hair extensions seamlessly woven into her natural hair. Her white pants and cashmere sweater, trimmed in gold, set off beautiful luminescent black skin. I think she knew she looked fantastic and alluring, but also knew she was confident in herself that she didn't need to flaunt it.

C. then came through the same door and also greeted me warmly. It had been more than a month since our last liaison, and I wondered if she had missed me? C. was speaking some pleasantries but I was more focused on watching her than listening as she took me back. I noticed today her straight black hair was pulled back under a print headband, but the crown of hair over her forehead was dyed a bright red. She was dressed casually in matching red lounge wear, but she pulled off a glamorous look with ease. I do remember her saying there were four rooms available here compared to the single room at the old location; something about being able to serve more clients. I asked in a low voice if I could use the bathroom before we started. Even though we were already "on the clock," she said, "Of course," and pointed me in the right direction. I would be mortified if I had to stop in the middle of things to go take a piss.

When I came back into the room she closed the door and said there was a hook on the back of the door for my clothes. My very first time with her, I was extremely nervous, excited but nervous, as I had never done such a thing before. But now I readily stepped out of my shoes, dropped my pants and stripped-off my underwear, hanging them on the door hook. I kept my shirt on as the room was a little cool, as it was winter-like outdoors.

She calmly directed me to lie down on my back and she gathered a few things from the adjoining table. Looking up at the ceiling I was surprised to see a garden of more artificial flowers artfully hanging down. She said now that there were four rooms she no longer had to share one, and she was looking forward to decorating this one to her own style. As she directed me to spread my legs apart, she chatted about the new place and how she was glad she didn't have to deal with cleaning up after someone else's use of the room. Or get annoyed with someone moving her stuff, or even worse, using her "supplies" and not replacing them.

"Take a deep breath," was immediately followed by the shock and intensity of a sharp pain in my groin. After more than a year with her ministrations, you would think I would be used to it, but it hurt. Fucking hurt like hell. A moment later I again felt the grip of pain. However brief, it took my breath away. She looked at me with her brown eyes, and I felt a connection when she asked if I was okay. I mumbled a weak yes. This time she pushed my dick sideways with one hand and a fraction of a second later I jerked up again in response to her painful touch.

This back and forth went on for almost a half-hour. I loved it and loathed it at the same time, if that is possible. While I'm not a pain-slut, I knew the ultimate outcome of this pain would be worth every second of distress. But right now the sting was so distracting my cock didn't grow hard at all. Her soft hands now pulled my dick up towards my belly, my scrotum and balls stretched taut. She told me to firmly hold it there in-place. "Fuck!," I gasped out loud; got to remember to breathe through this...

"We're almost done," she said. There was no clock in the room but she always kept to a rigid schedule without one. "Lift your legs," she admonished, "I need to get to your butt."

This time the heat searing my ass was almost too intense to bear; she normally checks if it's too hot. But she said nothing today and deftly smeared globs of now agonizingly hot wax to encircle my anus and completely cover my taint. While she left that to cool briefly, she applied several spatula-full thick smears of dripping molten wax over my left and right ass cheeks. Returning to the previous step, she lifted one edge of the semi-cooled wax and ripped the strip and all the entrapped hairs beneath it from around my butt-hole. When she pulled the taint strip off me I shuddered -- that was worse than my balls. She told me months ago the taint hair grows back faster and was thus longer than my ball-hair. Soon my entire ass was waxed clear of any traces of hair, matching my dick, balls and pubis.

The lotion and powder she used to soothe and rub my now hairless dick, balls and ass felt dreamy. I was in love; my skin was extraordinarily smooth and sensitive. The slightest touch now of my skin made me deliriously horny. She dispensed with the usual after-care advice and warnings she gave me on my first visits; after having 15 or more "Boyzillion" wax jobs I knew it by heart. We wished each other well as I got dressed. As this was my last visit before Christmas I gave her a big holiday tip on top of her usual fee. She seemed grateful; I was always fascinated how she surreptitiously tried to determine the amount of the tip in my presence rather than wait till I left. This time after sneaking her peek, I was bowled over and anxious when she came right up close to me and said, "I want to give you a big hug." For someone who has regularly seen me naked, handled my privates, and ripped hair out of me till I was baby-ass smooth, I was suddenly very shy about her giving me a hug. My dick did a little dance in anticipation. But it was all very professional. Afterwards, she opened the door for me; it had stopped raining, and the sun was out. It was all good...

Afterword

When I got home my spouse was out for the afternoon. What I didn't realize when she gave me a one-time wax job gift certificate at Christmas two years ago that it would become a mandatory routine of mine. She herself dislikes shaving her own pussy, and has rejected my offers over the years to gift her a Brazilian wax session for herself. But since she began asserting her dominance over my pubic grooming, every 5-6 weeks I get waxed-bare for her.

My loving wife has developed a protocol to confirm I've been to the spa that I also know by heart. When I return home I paint just my left pinkie nail pink. It's a subtle signal to me and her confirming my obedience. Sometimes she tells me to put on my stainless-steel infinity bracelets on both wrists and both ankles. This "love-jewelry" is locked closed with a tiny set screw and Allen wrench. Oftentimes I think she is going to tell me to lock them on permanently with Crazy Glue, but so far it's been neither desired nor required by her. The bracelets reaffirm my subservience and I feel them with every motion of my arms and legs.

The final step of her protocol for me is to exchange a pair of her panties for my own underwear. But not before donning the stainless-steel cock ring and cage she picked out for me almost two years ago. Yes, I squirm into the short, tight ring and cage and lock it closed with a small padlock, putting myself in chastity. She holds the only key. However, being hairless makes it easier to get on and more "comfortable" to wear (I know from experience!).

However, caressing my freshly waxed genitals is reserved for her, as well as when, or if, I will orgasm any given week. Sometimes my only sexual relief is one of her fingers running lightly over my smooth butt, and then working its way inexorably into my asshole. If I behave and follow her rules, I may feel the passionate benefits of her pegging my ass if she is so inclined. Thus, I will put on all the "jewelry" and her underwear, as prescribed.

I am now waiting patiently for my wife to return home and share my morning's experience.

Once 24-hours have elapsed after the wax job, my skin will have recovered enough to have sex again, so I've been advised by C. I actually don't know if this delay is really a health issue recommended by all aestheticists, or that mine has been jerking me around for almost two years.

Nevertheless, I'll wait.

I'm a good boy...so I've been told.