First, a warning - this story is based around a "Loving wives" theme. If that gives you issues, you are going to have to grind your way to the end, some 50,000 words away before you can grumble. Ask yourself, is it really worth the effort?
The second warning is, the first 2 1/2 sections are substantially the same as an earlier submission of mine "Emergence".
Thanks to "Blackstallion21" for editing support.
Chapter9
Patrick entered, carrying a steaming kettle, which he set down on the toilet seat. From his back pocket he produced a pair of scissors. He stood before her, and placing his hands on her knees eased them apart. She understood, and moved her hips forward, spreading her legs as wide as she could. Then, he knelt. Between thumb and forefinger, he grasped a lock of her pubic hair. Pulling it to its longest extent, he snipped it off, close to the skin, leaving just a few millimetres. Methodically and silently, he repeated the act until all the hair on her mons had been reduced to soft stubble. At no stage did he raise his eyes to her face, or show anything other than total concentration. Rachael's sense of continuing mild anxiety served only to heighten her already intense excitement. The process so far was not especially pleasurable at the purely physical level; Patrick's concentration, his lack of obvious sexual reaction to his task added a frisson. Being handled so intimately, but so dispassionately was slightly humiliating. Rachael had never before found that erotic.
Now he was inspecting her outer lips, clipping away the sparse hairs, she found herself relishing the discomfort of his tugging at each filament, before removing it. It brought slight and transient relief from her need. Still without comment, he stood and turned. He poured the contents of the kettle into the washbasin, steam rising despite the warmth of the room. He picked up her washcloth from the hook at the side of the basin and dropped it in. He picked up his razor from the shelf above, and used its handle to stir the cloth around in the hot water, using the razor to lift a fold of the cloth above the surface, he picked out the cloth, and held it dripping, before taking it and giving it a firm wringing. For the first time in minutes, he spoke.
"This'll feel a bit hot, but it'll soften the hairs – it makes using the razor much easier."
She closed her eyes in anticipation, again hunching her pelvis forward. The cloth was indeed hot, but not scalding. Not quite. He spread it over her mons, and then wrapped it beneath her, covering her slit. He took her left hand, placing it to hold the cloth in place. The heat was mildly painful, but thrilling. Her entire vulva seemed to be wrapped in torrid humidity, to which she was certain her own heated fluids were contributing. With her fingers, she applied pressure to her vestibule. She sighed.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. "My God, is there anything that doesn't get you going?"
Rachael was unsure if the comment was slightly arch, born of genuine surprise, or approving. She decided to respond humorously.
"Not today. And, it's not as though a girl gets quite such an attentive personal grooming service every day. We respectable married women can get quite neglected, you know."
He laughed, glancing down at her groin. She realised that the movements of her fingers, squeezing the cloth into herself, had become more pronounced.
"I can see that..."
From his wash bag, he produced a tube of shaving cream, and his shaving brush. He squeezed an inch or so of cream into the palm of his left hand, and with his right, dipped his shaving brush into the still piping hot bowl. He swirled it around, and then deftly gave it a squeeze. Applying it to the cream, he whipped up a thick lather.
He stepped over to her, reached down and removed the now cool washcloth. Her posture left her totally exposed to him. Her eyes, he saw, were glowing with anticipation.
"You'll like this bit, I think. Finest badger hair....."
She did. He used the soft brush to spread the lather copiously from the top of her pelvis, all the way back almost to her anus, covering the tops of her thighs into the bargain. Being covered in the warm, slippery foam was in itself a sensuous experience, but it paled compared to what the touch of the brush did to her. It flicked and tickled at her most sensitive points. Her aroused state and the removal of the protective curls meant that the head of her clitoris was subject to its direct stimulation. The contact triggered another of the mini climaxes she'd experienced earlier. She cooed her pleasure.
"Ooh, that's lovely"
She felt her vulva relaxing, separating the outer lips, and now exposing the sensitive inner petals to the touch of the brush. Smiling, he flicked the brush along their length, producing another spasm, and another sigh. Delicious as these were, she became aware; they weren't reducing her craving for more, and bigger.
He straightened, turning back to the basin.
"A fresh blade's in order, I think"
Fitting one, he knelt again between her splayed thighs. With the razor in his right hand, he reached to dip it in the bowl.
"Seriously, I need you to stay very still while I'm doing this"
"Easier said than done", she thought. His left hand spread the skin of her mons tight, and she awaited the touch of the blade. When it did make contact it was the temperature, rather than anything else that surprised her. In fact, the keenness of the blade, and the softness of the hair meant that there was almost no mechanical stimulus. Its touch was the merest whisper on her skin.
With each stroke, he re-wetted the blade. Entranced, she watched as the white lather was removed. The flesh revealed was pink, warm from its preparation. With just a few deft strokes, her mound was rendered completely bare. It looked luscious.
"Now the hard part," Patrick applied the fingers of his left hand to the top and bottom of her right outer labium, stretching the flesh. She froze. He applied the razor, running from front to rear, and then repeated the actions on the left. He put down the razor on the edge of the basin, before running his fingertips over the area. It seemed she could feel every wrinkle on his fingertips.
"Not too bad." He seemed relieved. "One last little job"
That "little job" was to run the razor over the tops of her thighs, removing any last traces which might have escaped waxing.
Rachael remained on the edge of the bath, unable to tear her eyes away from her transformed pelvis. Its pinkness was fading, as the flesh cooled. It was still dotted with blobs and streaks of lather, but they did nothing to hide her form.
Patrick drained the basin, and then held the washcloth under the running warm tap. He handed it to her, to remove the traces of foam. He then lifted her bottle of baby-oil from the cabinet, and yet again, knelt before her. As he smeared it over her newly uncovered flesh, she couldn't prevent herself from squirming; her skin seemed super-sensitive, making the slippery contact of his fingers feel truly exquisite. When he began to stroke the oil along the length of her labia, penetrating her slightly, she had to bite her lip to suppress a yelp of joy.
"That's it, done." He looked relieved. "And everything intact." He removed his hand, and began to wash the residue of oil from it. Rachael couldn't bring herself to speak. She was tracing her fingers lightly over the region, as if to confirm its yielding softness.
"Calm yourself down" she thought. It did little good. She soaked the washcloth in cold water from the basin tap, and applied it to her glowing cheeks. It afforded some relief, so she did the same to her groin.
Patrick was waiting for her, at ease in the in the chair by the fire. Crossing the room to him, she was able to see herself in the ornate mirror above the fireplace. She couldn't help but stare at her bare pubis as she walked.
"Looks good, doesn't it? He was obviously proud of his handiwork.
"God, yes. I never thought it'd look so filthy"
"Do you think your husband will like it?"
