Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I heard Reba chuckle from her stool, across the room and behind me.
“You’ll look so sweet for your hubby tonight, Mrs. Williams. I’ll make sure you do.”
I felt my forehead crease hard. I got my skirt off, turned away toward the robe on the wall. I pretended I was alone. I remembered Rick making me undress in front of him before my punishment and to my surprise that made me feel a little better about having to get undressed here at the day spa, with a comfy robe waiting for me.
I wondered if they had let April have a robe, when the security guard had carried her in.
And now she wears lacy red lingerie for her older husband.
The robe felt soft and warm. I thanked everything for its cover as I started to pull my simple cotton panties down, bending a little to tug them over my knees. I drew a sharp little breath at the movement of the elastic waistband over the bruises Rick had left on my upper thighs. I had my panties down to my ankles, visible to the other women in the room.
I tried to push all awareness away as I stooped to take my underwear off completely. The sudden pain from my sore bottom as I bent over, though, drew a little whimper from my lips.
It all came crashing into my mind: my whipping, my submission, my husband taking me completely in hand and making his supreme authority over me clear. His belt across my bottom and his cock in my needy pussy, my naughty mouth. His declaration that he wanted me bare and smooth between my legs.
To my horror, I felt the need start to well up inside me, as if the discomfort Rick had left in my backside as a reminder to behave myself also had the terrible power to awaken the dark desires I had wished away that morning. As if his dominance had that power not just in bed, where I had resolved I would resign myself to marital lovemaking and where I had almost played with myself thinking about it—that seemed to me comprehensible. No, I realized with a hot flush that went all over my body, my husband had so awakened that shameful part of me that I could feel it here in this horrid day spa.
I froze at the warmth that had suddenly flooded into my pussy. I felt sure Reba or April would notice something, would ask if I felt alright. I couldn’t look over there; I forced myself to finish the humiliating task of removing my panties. I balled them in my fist, managing to keep myself from even touching the gusset but blushing at the suspicion it might be damp. I fastened the belt of the robe in a loose knot.
I snuck a glance to my right, and I saw that April had sat down on the faux leather upholstered seat of her chair and Reba was guiding my new friend’s knees into the stirrups. They were paying me no attention at all.
“Just hop up into the other chair, Mrs. Williams,” Reba told me, glancing over and pointing to the seat on the right. “I know it probably seems strange that we use these kinds of chairs for waxing, but it makes things easier—especially for new brides like you.”
The sight of April with her legs spread wide made me feel a little faint, though I had a difficult time figuring out why—I wanted to watch, and I wanted to turn away, to see my new friend’s private parts and not to see them.
Above all, though, I suddenly felt a terrible need to cover my confusion; somehow, I had to get some control back. I looked at the chair on the right and I set my face into a neutral mask. I took the two steps that brought me to the platform. If I didn’t do this, the security guard would come back. He would come back, and he would see.
I turned and sat. I winced at the flash of pain from my sore backside despite the softness of the robe’s terrycloth.
You have no choice, the good girl part of me said. As mechanically as I could, trying not to think about it at all, I pushed further back into the chair, until I felt my tailbone come up against the reclining surface of the chair’s back.
I noticed the mirror, then. On the opposite wall, I could see Reba finishing up with getting April settled. I saw her move away, rolling on her stool toward me, revealing, in the glass, all of April’s most intimate places. It took every bit of will I had not to give a little gasp at the lewd sight of my new friend’s pretty pussy. I couldn’t see any hair there at all, thanks—I guessed—to her regular trips here to New You. The very sight of that bareness, down there, on a young wife—a girl older than I was—made my heart race in a terribly ambiguous way. April’s pale outer lips, the hint of the pink inner ones, the wrinkly hood of her clit, and the tiny, rosy ring of her anus all confronted me, a thrillingly visible sign of her submission to her older husband.