Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Samantha fussed a bit more with the equipment on the little wheeled table and then, abruptly, she got to work, quickly spreading the warm blue wax over a strip at the top of my mons. Then she put a piece of cloth over it.
“I’m going to pull gently. Kind of like getting your eyebrows waxed, but over a larger area,” she told me with what she clearly meant as a reassuring smile. “Just remember to breathe and try not to touch yourself during the process. It’ll make it easier for me.”
I nodded, feeling all the more exposed as she began to pull the strip of wax from my pubic area. My breath caught in my throat as she ripped the cloth and the wax away in what felt like anything but a gentle way. I couldn’t help but yelp at the sting.
Apparently ignoring my distress, Samantha kept waxing and pulling, working silently and quickly. Again I felt a dismaying gratitude, this time for what seemed her discretion, but then, after a few minutes of quiet, she suddenly murmured, “You got the paddle pretty hard, didn’t you? You refused to take off your clothes, I bet.”
At first I couldn’t even process the words. They made perfect sense, of course, but I had managed to convince myself that the ordeal of my waxing couldn’t get any more mortifying, so some part of my mind told me I must have misheard.
“I…” I said.
“Turn over,” Samantha said, as if she hadn’t just asked the shameful question. “Hold your cheeks apart for me. I need to wax you there too.”
The urge to disobey, to run away, rose again in me. What would be the point, though? This was almost over, wasn’t it? And then, after, I could decide to walk away.
I turned over. I bit my lip to suppress the sob that tried to rise as I put my hands behind me and took hold of the punished globes of my backside. Heat surged through every part of my body as I parted my cheeks and felt the air moving where my modesty told me it never should.
“That’s okay,” Samantha told me. “I know this part of the job is embarrassing at the beginning for most of the Selecta girls.”
My face flushed as hot as an oven as I felt her spread the warm wax on the most intimate part of my body.
“Most of the executives whose secretaries I wax don’t paddle much after the first few days, though—so unless you decide to be naughty, and refuse to do as you’re told, you’ll be a lucky girl. A lot of girls I know would be grateful for the opportunity Selecta gave you.”
CHAPTER 11
Ingrid
The next morning I woke up before the alarm I’d set for six, and I lay in bed for what seemed an eternity, trying to figure out whether I would go back to the Selecta building.
Moments of blushing self-consciousness swept over me, even there alone in bed, each one a wave of shivering anticipation that prickled across my skin like the lingering touch of Joseph’s knowing, humiliating fingers.
Joseph. His first name in my mind brought a new wave of warmth to my face. How could I think of him that way, by his given name, after what he had done to me, made me do?
I stirred for the first time from the position I’d awoken in, my eyelids fluttering against the dim light that filtered through the blinds. It was too early for the sun even to begin its ascent, but to my dismay my body didn’t seem to care. It was already much too awake, alive—thrumming, even—with tension.
I bit my lip. I tried to persuade myself the tension represented fear—an anxiety about going back to Selecta that should tell me everything I needed to know. It wasn’t true, though: between my thighs, under the sheets, I felt the rising need, rousing itself from the hot, dark place inside that seemed to have become an intimate companion.
I shifted in the sheets, the cool cotton a stark contrast to the warmth flooding every inch of me. I winced a little as I felt the ache from the bruises Joseph—Mr. Alden, I warned myself—had left on my bottom and upper thighs, as well as the lingering soreness of my pussy.
My gaze flickered to the clock, its red digits glaring 5:07 a.m. back at me—a taunt, it felt like, reminding me that the world was still cloaked in the innocence of predawn hours while I lay here, soiled by thoughts too salacious for daylight.
I shook my head, a feeble attempt to fend off the invasion of memories that swelled from the depths of my mind. But they had infiltrated me. He, Joseph, my new boss, had gotten inside me somehow, possessed me.
He claimed you. Not just with his manhood, his huge, rigid cock, the voice from the hot, dark place whispered.