Miguel

Part One:

I have always been a bit mercurial when it comes to my pubic hair. Sometimes, I rock a full, untouched bush. Other times, I wax every hair from my body. I've long since given up trying to interpret or predict where my whims will take me. Best to just go with it.

On the day in question, I had decided I needed a fresh start. I called up my usual place, but was told that my preferred waxer Jenny was not available. Not one to let that deter me, I scheduled the appointment and drove to the salon.

"Leah Howard," I told the receptionist, "I have an appointment for a Brazilian at 2:30."

"Ah yes, Miss Howard," she replied. "You'll be seeing our newest waxer Miguel."

*Miguel.* I blinked at her for a moment. A guy waxer? Weird. Definitely nothing I ever experienced before. I nodded and sat down, waiting for my turn. So, a strange man is about to rip the hair from every fold of my... I squirmed in my seat. Despite an overwhelming ambiguity, I found myself already getting aroused. *Hush,* I chastised myself. *He's a professional. I'm sure he does this all the time. It's not sexual for him.*

I had almost convinced myself when the door to the back opened and a deep voice called out, "Leah?"

I looked over. He was tall, about six feet, possibly more. His black polo shirt strained across his wide shoulders and chest. His black, wavy hair was pulled back into a low, short ponytail. I raised my hand and he smiled, his teeth stark white in his olive face. His dark brown eyes were kind and laugh lines crinkled the corners.

"Come," he said. I stood and followed him to the farthest room in the salon.

The table was warmed and covered in a crisp white sheet. I sat on it as he stirred the purple wax slowly with a stick.

"So, you are here for a Brazilian, yes? Are you wanting to leave any at the top?" He spoke softly, in a subtle accent that I couldn't quite place. I found myself flushing. His back was turned to me, and I glanced down, looking at his narrow hips and round buttocks in the thin black slacks.

"Oh, um, no, I think I just want it all gone. Time for a change, I guess."

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me. "I can understand that," he said. He turned and continued, "please undress your lower half and drape yourself with this. I will be right back." He handed me a small, thin white towel.

I stepped out of my pants and thong, setting them on the stool behind me. I laid down on the table, the small towel covering only a small part of my milky thighs and flat stomach. I folded my hands behind my head and waited.

Not long after, there was a soft knock on the door and Miguel entered. He turned down the overhead light and lit a lamp down near my feet. Soft music began playing. I heard him stirring the wax again, but didn't dare look over, feeling my own desire stirring inside me.

"Are you ready, Leah?" he asked. Before I could answer, I felt his large, strong hands on my thighs, gently pushing them apart and down to the table. I couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped my lips. He laughed quietly, a deep musical sound. "Please forgive me, I should have warned you. Shall we begin?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I could feel the coolness of the air on my vulva as my legs and lips spread apart. *Am I....wet? Oh God, I hope he doesn't notice.* The hot wax made me jump, and it was my turn to laugh. "I'm sorry, it's been awhile."

"Do not worry, I'll be gentle."

He laid two hot globs of wax on either side, right at the bikini line. He waved his hand to cool the wax, touching it gently to see if it was ready to remove. "Okay, 3....2....1." At "1" he ripped each side off in rapid succession, and I hissed through my teeth.

"You're doing great," he said. The next area to be waxed was closer in, and he laid the wax down expertly, with one quick stroke. These strips were also removed quickly, and I bit my lip, growling through the pain.

"Let us try something a bit different on these next two," he said softly. He seemed so concerned for my comfort. It was rather refreshing. Even Jenny didn't have such a gentle hand. The next couple of strips were closer in still, nearer to my clit. I felt Miguel part my lips slightly to assess where to lay the wax next. I wondered if he could see my wetness in the lamplight. A soft moan escaped my lips. *Or was that him moaning?* I tried to look down toward him, but his back was already turned, and he was stirring the wax again. Two more lines of wax. I winced slightly at the heat. Then I felt a cool breeze. I propped myself up slightly on my elbows and saw Miguel's face, inches from my sex, blowing on it.

*Fuck* I said to myself, lying back again. He ripped these strips of wax off and I yelped slightly, before feeling his lightly oiled fingers rubbing the area gently. My eyes widened as I stared at the ceiling, not daring to break the spell of whatever was happening between my legs. He rubbed the area past when the sting had subsided. I felt his thumb graze my clit briefly as he turned away again.

"Almost done, Leah." His voice was how I imagined a tiger would purr, deep and rumbling. My nipples hardened just listening to him.

"Please hold your legs a bit further apart," he instructed me. I pulled them up and to my sides, exposing my nearly hairless pussy and tight asshole to him. I could feel my wetness dripping down, sliding over my puckered hole.

He turned back to me, the stick of wax in his hand. "Oh," I heard him say quietly. He set the wax back in the melter and took the towel from my stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to... clean you a bit." The thin material of the towel barely concealed his hand as he slowly wiped up and down my now soaking wet slit. I tried my best not to move, when all I wanted was to arch my back, grab his hand and drive his fingers inside me.

"There. Much better." He discarded the towel to the side, and placed the last two globs of wax onto me. I could feel his breath even closer than before. The heat of his lips radiating onto mine. Then, very briefly, but very distinctly, the tip of his tongue touched the opening of my pussy. I gasped, and his head retreated quickly, no sign of what he had just done showing on his face.

*Rip. Rip.* The final two strips came off. This time each side was soothed by a hand, gently rubbing in small, deliberate circles. My hands went to my breasts almost involuntarily, and I pinched my nipples as subtly as I could.

I saw his smile widen. Did he notice what I did? I licked my plump pink lips, hoping that I was imagining all of this. *And hoping that I hadn't.*

"Very good," he said in his tiger purr. "Now all that is left is for me to inspect and clean you up.... again." He winked when he said that last part. My eyes widened. I heard him pull a stool up and sit on it. Instantly, his hands were all over my pussy. Probing, fondling, lightly touching. He would murmur to himself occasionally, and touch up areas with smaller wax strips.

"Okay, just a bit more," he said. His fingertips parted the slick folds, where he hadn't even been waxing, where hair doesn't grow. "Mm, definitely nice and smooth in here," he rumbled. *Fuck,* I said to myself again. He laughed. *Did I say it out loud??*

I began to squirm in earnest now, enjoying his "inspection" a bit more than I probably should be. "Please, Leah, be still. I would hate to accidentally..." He slid his finger deep inside me in one swift motion. "Oops," he said, "Now see what happened." He curled his finger upward, seeking my G-spot while slowly moving it in and out.

"I, um... I...." I couldn't even form words at this point. I'd never had such an amazing man touch me in such an intimate way. Sure, I'd had partners in the past, but none were anything like Miguel.

"Shhhh," he reached up with his other hand and placed a finger on my lips. "If you want me to keep going, you'll have to be quiet." He slid a second finger inside me, pumping more intently. I parted my lips in a silent gasp and his finger dropped into my mouth. I immediately began sucking it. My tongue curled around the digit, and I moaned softly.

"Mmm, you horny little slut," Miguel groaned at me before removing his fingers and leaving me empty. "I just don't think that a couple of fingers will be enough for you, will they?"

I heard the sound of a zipper and the rustling of fabric. I felt the round, hard head of his cock rub up and down my aching, needy pussy. The skin was so sensitive that every sensation was intensified fifty times. I sighed and moved my hips, trying to get him inside me.

"Oh, it's not that easy," he said, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You're going to have to ask me for it. No, *beg* me for it."

"What?" My mind was reeling. I was in such a vulnerable, slightly euphoric state, and here he was taking advantage of me.

I felt him pull away, heard him walk around the table to be near my head. I turned to watch, instead seeing his long, fat erection bobbing in front of him obscenely, the head still shiny from my wetness.

"It's quite simple, Leah," he said, pinning my head sideways to the table and rubbing his cock on my lips. "If you beg for it, I fuck you. If you don't, then you can leave and wonder what you missed out on. Tick. Tock."

I wondered where the seeming gentleman had gone and where this dominating, borderline controlling man came from. I opened my mouth to speak, and immediately he thrust his fat cock inside. He grabbed my hair and slid his thickness all the way back into my throat, holding my head in place while my eyes watered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to say something?" He pulled out and I gasped, strings of saliva stretching between us. I fought to catch my breath.

"I--" my words were cut off again as he fucked my mouth once more, this time thrusting in and out a bit. I fought my gag reflex, tears running down my face. He pulled out again and I coughed, trying to regain my breath. He rubbed his saliva-moistened dick all over my face.

"What was that?" He asked, bending down and placing his ear near my mouth.

"Please," I croaked, my throat closed up from the assault, "please fuck me..."

"Oh, Leah. How could you ask such a dirty thing? I am a professional. I don't just go around fucking every little slut I come across." He walked away again, and I knit my brow in confusion.

"But.... you said--"

"I don't remember saying any such thing. Now stand up."

I stood, noting that he was sitting on the stool I had placed my clothes on. My pants were on the floor and he had my panties in his hand, sniffing them. "Please remove your shirt and bra." Even though he said "please," I knew his request was not a polite one.

I lifted my shirt above my head, placing it on the table, shortly followed by my bra. My heavy tits bounced slightly as I released them, the pink nipples standing proudly. I stared at the large cock pointing straight to the ceiling, drops of precum glistening on the tip.

"Come," he said simply, an echo of how he had beckoned me into the salon. This was more a command than a welcoming, the tone revealing that he knew instinctively that I would obey. I stepped closer to him, my knees hitting his. He reached up and caressed my breasts, pinching the nipples roughly.

"Don't think that I didn't see you touch yourself earlier," he said, "such a dirty little slut. Do you get aroused by every man doing his job remotely near you?" He grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me across his lap, his hot cock burning into my side.

Before I could register what was happening, his large hand came down hard on my pale, round ass cheek. Without even seeing it, I knew it would redden deeply. As he spoke, his words were punctuated with swift swats to my buttocks, and I squealed each time.

"It's too late now to simply ask." *smack* "Now you must earn it." *smack* "So it is your turn to decide." *smack* "Are you a good little girl?" *smack smack* "Or a dirty little cockhungry whore?" My body tensed, awaiting another spanking, but it didn't come. I released my breath, only for him to swat me one more time, right across the crack of my ass, hitting both cheeks at the same time. I squealed and bit my tongue.

"Oh god, please. Please! I'll do anything!" I felt his fingers probe my folds again, and he laughed.

"Mm, I knew it the moment I saw you," he said. "Look at you, so wet, wanting nothing more than to be fucked properly. You're positively dripping, querida." He pulled my head up by my hair and stuck his wet fingers in my mouth. "Do you see? Do you see how wet you are?"

I nodded. My whole body ached, yearned, needed him to fill me. He released my head and pushed me to my feet. I staggered, drunk with lust. He pushed me roughly onto the table, face down. I heard him rummage through a basket under the table. A small soft pop of--was that a pen cap? Miguel spread my feet apart and stepped up to me, nestling his cock between my ass cheeks and thrusting slowly.

I felt a tickling sensation on my lower back, just above my ass, and I realized that he was writing something on me. He capped the pen and tossed it next to me. A Sharpie. I started to protest, but he laid on top of me, clamping one hand over my mouth. I could feel his shaft rub against my asshole. Even as furious as I was, I still wanted him to fuck me.

"Now now, if you fight too much, you don't get your prize. You want your prize don't you, my little guera?" The hand on my mouth pushed my head up and down in a forced nod. "Oh good," he continued, "then you know where and when to find me." His cock left the warm embrace of my thick ass and he fastened his pants.

"Get dressed," he said to me. "I'm keeping these." He tucked my panties into his pocket and exited the room. I got dressed quickly, in a daze. My pussy ached with desire, my head spinning with a thousand lascivious fantasies. I walked up front and waited to pay. Flashes of his face between my legs, his fingers in my--

"Ms Howard? I can check you out here." The receptionist beckoned me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I shook my head as if to clear it and stepped over.

"How was everything?" She asked, smiling. Did she know? Did they all know? I looked at her face. No, that would be impossible.

"Good," I said, smiling back at her. After I paid, I drove home in silence, forgetting to start my playlist. I parked in the garage, and sat there for a moment, replaying everything in my mind, from the first gentle blow to the cock in my mouth to the--writing! How did I already forget?!

I dashed out of my car and up the stairs to my full-length mirror, pulling the waistband down to read what he had written.

*Fri. 8pm. Impress me. 215 McHenry Street.*

"Fuck," I said out loud. It was already Thursday afternoon.

Part Two:

Miguel had really gotten in my head after the waxing. It didn't help that my skin, sensitive and inflamed from the procedure, served as a constant reminder. I couldn't stop thinking of his deep, commanding voice, hands on my body, and the effortless way with which he took control of me. Normally, I wouldn't even consider seeing someone like that again, but I felt drawn to him, unable to focus on work or anything else.

And that's how I found myself standing in front of my mirror naked at 5:30 on Friday evening, his words echoing in my head. "Impress me." How would I go about doing that? Clearly he is a man who is used to getting whatever he wants. How do *I* impress *him?*

I stepped into the shower, the hot water running in rivulets down my soft, ivory skin. I scrubbed my body, then shaved my legs and armpits. After rinsing one last time, I applied lotion to every inch of my body, a light baby powder scent covering me. I towel-dried my hair and opened my lingerie drawer. I used to wear lingerie often, one of my past boyfriends having a bit of a fetish for it.

I selected a dark purple corset with black trim and attached garter straps. I slipped this on, with a matching lacy purple thong covering my hairless pussy and riding between my round, pert ass cheeks. Thigh-high black stockings and heels completed the outfit. I stepped back in front of the mirror, turning back and forth. My waist was cinched with the lacing on the corset, enhancing my hourglass figure and pushing my breasts up and together, as though about to be served. *I hope this is impressive enough*, I thought, biting my lower lip slightly.

I dried and curled my hair in loose waves, the auburn locks falling just past my shoulders. A smokey cat eye and light, high-gloss lip finished the look. I glanced at the clock. 7:30 already. I needed to be on time, and wasn't sure how long it would take to drive there.

*Wait*. *One more thing*. I dug through my lingerie drawer and found it--a jeweled plug, the end sparkling iridescently like a diamond. I hadn't worn it in a while, and it took a few deep breaths and a good bit of lube to push it into my tight asshole. Once in place, I shivered and felt a rush of lust and excitement.

One last turn in the mirror, and I decided that there was little else I could do to, hopefully, impress this man. How does he have such a hold on me? I barely even know him. I felt a small wave of doubt. Maybe I shouldn't even go. As if in response, my asshole squeezed the stem of the plug. *This is happening,* it seemed to say.

I pulled an old black pea coat out of my closet. Not quite as classic as the trench coat, but I'm sure it will work. It's just long enough to cover the tops of my stockings, and not hint too much at what's underneath. *Or what isn't*.

The drive was fairly long, but I made it there just before 8. My heart pounded in my chest as I pulled up and parked. It appeared to be a rather unassuming house on a quiet suburban street. I started second-guessing myself as I climbed the steps to the front door, my stilettos clicking on the stone. I tossed my hair, waves bouncing, and rang the doorbell precisely at 8 pm.

Miguel answered, dressed in a charcoal grey fitted suit. The white shirt underneath was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a small hint of dark chest hair. In his hand he held a crystal glass, partially filled with an amber liquid I guessed was scotch. He smiled widely when he saw me.

"Ah, Miss Howard. I see you had no trouble finding the place." He spoke languidly, the tiger purr reverberating in my body and raising goosebumps. "Do come in," he said, stepping to the side.

His living room was modernly furnished, with low seating, few decorations, and simple colors. A fire crackled in the fireplace, lending a warmth to the room. It was very clean, not my taste, but also not uninviting.

"I would offer you a drink, but perhaps I should take your coat first," he offered as he closed the front door, setting his drink on the entry table next to us. I swallowed drily. Here we were, the point of no return. I nodded and unbuttoned the coat slowly. I turned so my back was to him, and he slipped the coat from my shoulders. I heard him growl deeply as my outfit was revealed to him. He threw my coat on the floor and pushed me up against the wall, my face pressed against the cool plaster, my breath forced out of me in a gasp as he pressed his body to mine.

"So this is how dirty little sluts dress to impress, hm?" He bit my earlobe and traced a finger along my side, then down to my thong. He hooked a finger into the strap and pulled it upward tightly, forcing the fabric in the front between my lips, and causing me to go up onto my tiptoes. I groaned slightly. He grabbed the string in the fist of one hand, the other exploring. "Oh, what have we here?" he laughed, as he found the hard jewel of my plug nestled between my cheeks. "Well, you certainly have impressed me, querida. I think I need a closer look at this."

He released the thong and it snapped against my skin, the front still nestled between my pussy lips, probably soaking up the increasing moisture. I heard him walk a bit away and sit in one of the chairs near the fireplace. "Walk to me," he commanded, swirling the glass he had picked up on the way.