Sally woke late, having slept soundly for the first time in months. Coming to, in the tangle of her duvet she realised that she was still wearing the dress that she'd come home in last night from Freya and Seth's. She recalled the drive back and managing to get in the front door of her house but after that exhaustion must have overtaken her and quite how she'd gotten herself to bed she couldn't remember.
As she emerged from sleep she became increasingly aware that she was badly in need of a shower. Her hair was a knotted mess and it, her body and her bedding smelt strongly of her own stale sweat, sex and urine. Sally felt herself flush with shame as she remembered her inability to control her bodily functions as Freya had spanked numerous orgasms out of her. Reaching down she tentatively touched her tender pussy, it still felt swollen and was sensitive to the point of painful. Freya certainly had a fearsome ability to repeatedly hit the right not-so-sweet spot. The dull ache deep in her pelvis reminded her too of the weight from the Ben Wa balls she'd been forced to hold inside herself and later ordered to 'birth' out.
Reluctant to emerge from under her duvet and deal with the dirty but intoxicating mess Sally thought back to Freya's comment about her wanting a pussy that looked and felt like it had given birth. It was a definite paradox -- last night had been degrading, humiliating and embarrassing but Sally couldn't deny to herself that in giving away control over her body she had somehow felt empowered.
Was choosing to have her pussy ruined a penance for her past relationships, for choosing a career over the chance of children, or was it somehow ensuring any future intimate partner wanted her for what she was as a person and not what she looked like? Whatever the answer was, and Sally thought it was likely a blend of all three, she knew that her first 'therapy' session with Freya and Seth had not only left her feeling ashamed and insatiably turned on but also much calmer and clearer in her thoughts. Yes, Sally thought to herself - this was absolutely the right thing to do to help her retain her sanity.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a phone alert. Prising herself up from the bed Sally reached down to the floor beside her bed and found her phone still inside her coat pocket. Her phone pinged again as she fumbled to unlock it -- her fingers betraying her nerves with the realisation that it was a WhatsApp message from Freya and Seth. What if they had had second thoughts after the first session? What if they'd been left disappointed by her saggy middle-aged body or her embarrassing lack of bladder control?
"Well done, filthy girl. You behaved as instructed last night. As agreed at the time of consent, over the coming weeks we will take increasing control over the way you look, dress and behave.
As you know we're not interested in making you into some sort of bimbo, rather we want to strip you back to your essential self. From here on in you will not wear make-up, you will grow your hair long and let the grey grow out. It must also be plaited for every session.
You will dress in shapeless, dull-coloured clothing unless directed otherwise. You will no longer wear underwear unless instructed to do so. For home wear we have ordered you a zip-front purple fleece housecoat, the sort worn by elderly women in care homes -- it's quite the unsexist piece of clothing we could find -- you must not wear anything underneath it and it fully must be unzipped when answering your door for any deliveries. A similarly unattractive, brushed cotton nightdress should arrive with it for wearing in bed.
You will not shave, pluck or use hair removal creams on any part of your body. However, after discussion Seth and I have decided to make one exception - in order to accelerate the ruining of your pussy we require as easy access as possible. You will therefore book an appointment for tomorrow to be waxed between your legs and just above your pussy to ensure we have an unobstructed view. The rest of your bush is to be left untidy. You are to make this clear to the beautician and will also ask to take away the used waxing strips once the procedure has been carried out... they are NOT to be binned.
We appreciate that this will be a deeply uncomfortable experience for you physically, but we also want it to be as uncomfortable as possible mentally for you too. With that in mind you will also be required to record audio from the entire session on your phone -- from the moment you enter the salon to the moment you leave. You will then send us the audio file as soon as your appointment is finished as proof that you have carried out your task as required. Mistress Freya.
Sally was utterly conflicted. On one hand she was elated, Freya and Seth were pleased with her, keen to continue and appeared now fully bought in to the project to ruin her. On the other, she was appalled -- it seemed as though the couple were a little more twisted than she'd anticipated, and her ruination was to be more public than she'd ever imagined. Before any doubt could creep in Sally swiped to her browser, searched for beauty salon and made an appointment.
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Sally took a deep breath, opened the 'voice note' app on her phone, hit record and pushed open the door to the beauty salon. Seated behind the reception desk was the antithesis of herself, the very opposite of what her owners Freya and Seth were intent on shaping her to be.
The receptionist was young, slim to the point of skinny, heavily made-up, a tan that definitely hadn't come from sunshine and hair so straight and lustrous it almost defied belief. Sally's self-consciousness went up another notch and she felt herself blushing as she stood there dressed in a shapeless, knee-length smock-style linen dress, flat shoes, long hair brushed but still frustratingly frizzy, face free of cosmetics and her chunky, pale, hairy, lower legs on show.
Before Sally even had a chance to speak the receptionist called out "You'll be here for the 10am bikini waxing appointment? Shannon's waiting for you in Room Two, second door on the left."
The couple of other women waiting in the front of the salon looked up from their phones as Sally walked past, her face reddening further at the receptionist's lack of discretion.
"Hi" Shannon breezily greeted her as she entered the treatment room. "Get yourself settled and ready on the table. Keep your panties on and I'll just work round them." God no, thought Sally, this is getting worse by the second "I haven't any on" she muttered, before quickly adding "I haven't ever had a wax treatment before so I wasn't sure what to do."
"OK... "replied Shannon a little less enthusiastically. "Just climb onto the table, hitch your dress up above your waist and lie back." Sally gingerly did as she was told, still clasping her phone in her hand and conscious that it was recording everything said.
"So, just in for a bikini wax? Are you sure you don't want me to do your legs too while you're here?" asked Shannon as she noticed the woman's hairy legs. If Freya and Seth's plan had been to ensure Sally was thoroughly humiliated, well they'd achieved it. But far worse was to come.
Sally tried her best to sound assertive and confident but her voice wavered as she replied "Err, can you just wax between my legs please... and just a little bit just above my privates nothing else" before rushing to add "And, and please can you save the used waxing strips for me to take away?"
Shannon had had some odd clients and some odd requests, but this was a new one to her, "Really? I guess I can if you really want?"
"Yes please" murmured Sally shakily.
"Well, it takes all sorts" Shannon thought to herself as she looked down at the half-naked, fleshy, middle-aged woman lying before her and checked that the small bin placed at the side of the treatment table had a fresh liner.
"Ooow" yelped Sally as a silent Shannon got swiftly to work between her drawn-up open legs. It seemed the beautician wasn't no longer in the mood for small talk -- the breeziness of earlier apparently quashed by Sally's requests.
Sally had felt pain before but by the second strip she was questioning why any woman would put herself willingly through such an experience. Previously she'd only ever used creams, or a razor and it seemed her decision had been justified. Maybe other women weren't as hirsute as her, maybe their pubes weren't as long or wiry as hers?
A "Fuuuck, fuck, fuckedy fuck" escaped her clenched teeth before she realised this is exactly what Freya and Seth wanted when they'd instructed her to record her appointment -- to hear her having to endure and suffer through this painfully humiliating experience. But the very thought of them and the recollection of her first 'therapy' session was enough though to trigger a response beyond her control. As Shannon took a few minutes to get her next set of strips ready Sally alarmingly realised that despite the pain, or maybe even because of the suffering, her pussy was getting wet.
No, no, no this couldn't be happening, please no -- not here, not now, not with a woman half her age and size. What if Shannon thought it was because she was touching her... albeit very professionally?
Rip. The next swiftly applied and removed strip brought forth a different sort of involuntary groan from Sally's lips as she lay eyes shut tight and now unable to force the idea that it was Freya inflicting the pain from her imagination.
Rip. "Oh god". Rip. "Fuck". Rip. "Fuck yes". Rip "Yes, fuck yes". Rip "I, I, I'm sooo soorryy" and with that Sally's traitorous body conspired with her mind and erupted into an orgasm.
Clutching a small bag of used wax strips, thick with her pubes, Sally shuffled out of the treatment room and back to the reception desk to pay. To say she was mortified was a gross understatement. Shannon had done her best to ignore Sally's orgasm, the visible wetness between her legs (and the damp patch spreading onto the paper sheeting placed under her client's backside and thighs) and had valiantly finished the job.
It had got worse when a flustered Shannon forgot to give her the contents of the bin, forcing Sally to ask again. When Shannon had very politely handed her the bin liner to take away and wished her a "Have a good day" Sally had been unable to look Shannon in the face. But Sally was under no illusions, she'd be the talk of the salon for months to come -- the only saving grace, and it was a small one at that, was that she'd picked a salon across town from her home.
As Sally reached the street, she had to prise her phone from her own grasp, it never having left her right hand through the whole experience she'd just endured. She hit stop on the recording and sent it as ordered to Freya and Seth... Lord only knows what they'd think of her now!
