Frankie, the girl who waxed Mistress Vixen so beautifully had no idea of Vixen's profession. She saw a striking, powerful woman who dressed simply and elegantly and assumed that she was some sort of corporate executive. Like a number of similar, if not quite so formidable looking women, who looked after their bodies, Vixen used a lot of the spa's services. Some of them also chose to have a Brazilian wax. There was no reason to think that this quiet, relaxed client was particularly out of the ordinary.
But over time their relationship grew as the girl chatted while she worked and Vixen responded easily, wearing a towel or less. One day Frankie started talking about men as she carefully stripped away Vixen's pubic hair. She had been upset by her boy friend and thrown him out.
"You know, they think they are so tough but they can't take a little waxing. I'd like to strap that jerk to my table and make him squirm."
Vixen, who had watched a lot of men squirm, and even scream, as she waxed them in her fashion couldn't help but agree. It sounded like Frankie's boyfriend deserved it, but then Vixen thought that about any man in any circumstance.
By the time of Vixen's next appointment Frankie's boyfriend was back and all was apparently forgiven. But Vixen noticed that Frankie wasn't quite her bubbly self. She was upset to see the girl so down but also annoyed that Frankie had just let him back.
"Did you wax him like you wanted to before you took him in?"
"No, of course not."
"Why not? So what did he do to upset you so much?"
"Oh, he was getting flirty with one of my friends."
"Mmm," said Vixen "If he was my boyfriend I'd be making him pay for that before I was going to take him back. He'd be begging to be waxed by you by the time I'd finished with him. A good whipping would just be the start."
The girl looked up from her work with a start.
Vixen was amused that she looked so taken aback. As Frankie went back to getting her strip of pubic hair exactly right, Vixen explained what she did for a living. The girl was fascinated, realizing that Vixen was not just another pampered lady who lunched or corporate high flyer. By the end of the appointment Frankie had promised to call Vixen and use her professional services, for free, since she had served Vixen so well. As they parted they shook hands; Vixen gave Frankie her card and Frankie said, slightly nervously, that she looked forward to seeing a new type of waxing. Vixen was pretty sure that the girl wouldn't take it further but it had been an amusing discussion; she liked it that she could surprise people like that.
oooOOOooo
In fact, Frankie did call into Club Taboo in person to find Vixen after work a few days later. Vixen's calm certainly that something needed to be done and her boyfriend's continuing to take her for granted had stiffened Frankie's resolve and she wanted to test his commitment. Frankie spent quite a while with Mistress Vixen, who she found dressed in a smartly corporate suit involved in paperwork in her office. Frankie felt a little shy interrupting her but Vixen was obviously pleased to see her. After their discussion Vixen showed her around the Club. Although the early evening was one of their quietest times and there wasn't very much happening, Frankie was impressed.
In one room she stood and watched a middle aged man strapped to a bench then have Mary, Mistress Vixen's favorite girl, lash him with a riding crop. The man, who was naked except for a cloth hood completely covering his head, was screaming incoherently after the first few strokes but Mary ignored the noise and carried on regardless. A red haired woman in elegant street clothes watched approvingly from an arm-chair. Vixen had asked the woman's permission (and then made sure to let the man know he would have an audience although he couldn't see them) before allowing Frankie in. Vixen told Frankie that the man had been brought in by his partner to get 36 strokes. They came in monthly but he usually got 12 or occasionally 24.
When the beating was over and the man was left sobbing on the bench, the woman in the chair waved Mistress Vixen and Frankie over. She explained, loudly so the man on the bench could hear, that he had admitted to masturbating without permission which was why he was getting the extra punishment. Frankie looked at his back. His upper thighs, arse and lower back were a mass of criss-crossing red marks already bruising, some on his flanks bleeding where the end of the crop had hit. They partly covered a C that had had been branded just above one buttock. She touched the mark and the man flinched.
"Why do you have him beaten usually?" asked Frankie. The woman looked in surprise at Vixen, who shrugged a little, and then at Frankie.
"Oh, the usual, he thinks about his dick all the time, looks at women in the street, fancies his secretary, that sort of thing."
"But why does he let you do it?"
"He likes it really, he likes to have me in control and even have me punish him. It always leaves him on some sort of high. We both love it."
"I thought you kept him locked up," said Vixen.
"I do a lot of the time but the device is heavy and he gets knocked around so he doesn't wear it all the time," said the woman, "Do you think he should?"
"Oh absolutely," said Vixen "If you really want to stop him jerking off, you have to have it on all the time. They always wank when they get the chance, they just don't always admit to it. Did you catch him at it?"
"Yes. I caught him with a dirty magazine when he thought I was out -- he was too slow to get it put away."
"Nasty creatures. I guarantee he's been doing it all along and won't stop until you keep him tucked away in a good permanent chastity device. Talk to Mary about something he can wear all the time, she is good with those things. And we better get Mary to ask him where the rest of his magazines are -- once she's tortured it out of him you can have him read them aloud to you when he is safely under control, you'll both enjoy that. An erection in a decent device hurts a lot."
Vixen nodded to Mary who had been untying the man from the bench and she started to strap him back down, face up this time.
They moved on before the interrogation started so Frankie could see the Medical Room where Vixen thought the girl would be most comfortable.
As Frankie was leaving, Vixen said, "OK then, you tell your boyfriend that he has to agree to be punished for flirting - without knowing how - if he is to stay with you. If he doesn't take his punishment he's out for good. Then we'll see what he is made of."
Frankie looked apprehensive but nodded.
Vixen smiled, "Don't look so worried. We do this all the time and usually they love it once it's over, like that man you saw. You'll be bringing your boyfriend back for a monthly thrashing before you know where you are."
Two days later Frankie rang to say that he'd agreed.
"Good," said Vixen, "I'll send the car to pick you up after work tomorrow and you tell him where to wait for us."
oooOOOooo
The pick-up was the bottom floor of a rundown car-parking building in the centre of town. Looking out of the window from the back seat of the Club's big Mercedes as they pulled up, Frankie could see her boyfriend looking nervously at the approaching car. He couldn't see her because of the darkened windows. Mary, dressed in what would pass for either a sexy prison warder's or chauffer's uniform got out of the driver's seat to talk him, taking a black cloth hood and a set of shackles with her. The boyfriend looked around nervously but there were only a few cars in the dim shadows of the car-park and no one moving. Frankie couldn't hear what was being said but after they had been speaking for a while Mary opened the boot and gestured inside. Her boyfriend looked to be backing away and Mary shrugged, shut the boot sharply and walked briskly back to the door of the car.
As the driver's door opened and Mary started to get back in Frankie could hear him almost shouting, "All right then, all right then, I'll do it." Mary gave Frankie a broad smile and shut her door to go back to the boot. Mary watched him with her arms folded and an amused smile as he got completely undressed, looking nervously around into the dripping shadows all the while, and climbed into the boot. Mary leaned in to pull the hood over his head and buckle it, made him roll over so she could shackle his hands behind his back and lock his ankles together and shut the boot.