Hey there let me tell you about my new best friend….
That’s right, me and my vadge are friends again. Praise the almighty crotch! No longer does its appearance offend my sensibilities.
But it was a truly… truly harrowing experience. Female reader, you think I’m a pussy I know. Male reader, you don’t wanna know. But because I’m into sharing and not caring, sit back, relax, and follow me down a rabbithole (unintentional but awesome play on words there) of pain and suffering and humiliation. The ends justify the means… is from a work of satire. So please stop saying it’s Machiavellian to think that way.
Ok. Showered intensely. Dried off, put on an easy access skirt (I have many) and arrived at my appointment, awesomely on time. The woman who took my booking was a nice middle aged woman. Excellent. Don’t want to be humiliated by a peer.
Was led into a cubicle and told where to hang my coat.
On the table was a little plastic packet with a hospital-grade paper see through thong. I wasn’t sure if I should put it on or not. Paused. Doubted. Turned my phone off. Hung up my coat. Sat on the side of the table. Took off my boots.
Into the room sprang another woman. A young woman. Probably my own age. Damn it. Damn damn damn it. She told me to put on the thong and take off my skirt, and left. Argh. Of course. No foreplay here. Down to business. Put the thong on top of my own thong.
Girl came back into the cubicle. Had me lying flat with my legs spread. Grrr.. A bit sudden.
“we’ll start with the bikini area” she says. I’m surprised, because that’s not normal, but garble my consent anyway. Ohooohoo Kaaayy… wanting to whimper “please be gentle”.
She dollops some wax onto an applicator while stroking my thigh with the other hand. That feels nice. Is that normal? They don’t usually stroke your thigh, do they? Shit, it’s been so long since I’ve had this done professionally. Can’t remember. It feels nice though. The thought flashes through my mind that maybe she’s a lesbian. Look down at the overgrown lady garden. No. She is not coming onto me. No one who can see that is coming on to me, no way.
She seizes the task at hand and is soon smoothing molten wax on my special place. Mmmm… still stroking my thigh. Nice… Then come the whip lashings of pain. Mother FUCKER! More and more pain. The older woman bursts in on us as this girl is seemingly detatching my labia and I’m making tiny whimpering sounds and trying to keep the spasms to a minimum.
“Oh I see we have a nice big bikini job on our hands!” She observes, beaming, and leaves.
I resign myself to the misery. Trying to regulate the breathing…. hard to relax. The woman comes in again and instructs me to hold my legs over my head, all the way up in the air. Now I really can’t relax. The older woman does my fragilest of fragiles while I lie there in my contortionist misery. The other girl stays by my ass and the two of them talk about the technique. Oh motherfucker mother FUCKER please let this be the last one…ooooh fuck. I resign to whatever fucked up positions they want to humiliate me in, and focus on breathing while my face goes numb. No… not my face. Lower. Lower body needs to go numb. Body has this capacity, why doesn’t it just take the hint and fucking go to sleep down there while this is going on? I hate these two vile bitches. The older one’s technique hurts significantly less. But she makes little comments. “Ooh legs up, right up, like a gynocologist visit! So what seems to be the matter?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to answer her, for the sake of cheery conversation, but I realise luckily that the only things I am capable of saying in this state will probably backfire, like “What’s the matter is I have finally got the balls to go get a wax and it’s a seriously fucking personal experience and I’m all self conscious about it and now there are TWO of you down at my crotch commenting on my having shaved the last time and FUCK YOU TWO HARPY BITCHES I WILL NINJA KICK THE NEXT ONE OF YOU WHO TRIES TO RIP OFF MY SOFT, VIRGINAL SKIN YOU CUNTS” So I just go “mmmhhhh hhuuuh” and give a weak and psychotic, fearful smile.
Eventually it is bikini zone done time. I’m quivering in my place all stuck to those paper towels. The older one tells me they want to close soon (hey, I didn’t ask for my appointment at this time, you picked it, bitch) and they never get to go home on time, so they are going to do my legs together. I submit pathetically and the two of them roll nice warm wax down one thigh each, simultaneously, and then RIIIIP, down to the core. At this point it didn’t even matter. I was across the threshold of pain, right inside its house. I was sitting on pain’s couch, looking at its family portraits and asking polite questions whose answers I cared nothing for. I took my punishment, paid and thanked them and left walking a little rape victim-y, and feeling a little rape victim-y. But I got home, and look at that. Aint she a beaut? Take my word for it, yes she is. I forgot how slightly less ugly a vagina can be made look for a brief spell. AWESOME.
So there you go guys.
It’s TMI tuesday.
And tomorrow you will get no post. Or the day after. Or after. I won’t have time to post anything because I will be hopefully too busy getting my money’s worth for the waxing session. Now good night and please excuse me while I drink some vodka for my nerves and have a lie down.