Molly
Molly lay on the cot on a cool vinyl sheet, looking up at the slight, stern-faced woman above her. Ms. Bobo scared her. She felt one freezing cold hand on her thigh and braced herself.
Rrriip.
Owww! Ow! Molly managed not to cry out. She didn't cry out much anymore, not from something so mild as getting her pussy waxed. Ms. Bobo came to her Master's house every two weeks and waxed Molly bare whether she needed it or not. Master was a stickler for personal appearance, and Molly was not permitted to wear clothes, so no part of her appearance could be let go in any way.
Another glob of hot wax was dropped between her legs, spread around perfunctorily by the silent, elderly Asian woman. At one time Molly used to try to converse with her, but she didn't try anymore since Ms. Bobo ignored her soundly and never answered back. Molly thought perhaps Ms. Bobo did not speak English, but it was much more likely that her Master had instructed Ms. Bobo not to speak to her.
Her Master was the type of man who could get people to do anything he asked. Or demanded. Her Master was a very rich and very intelligent man. That was what drew Molly to him in the first place—his wise eyes and the way he seemed to know exactly what to do in any situation. She had fallen deeply in love with her Master nearly from the start, and she believed he loved her. He’d married her in a very large and ostentatious wedding attended by important Seattle businessmen, congressmen, and people of note. That was their vanilla relationship, the relationship that existed outside the web of daily life they moved in. Their other relationship was more private. Total power exchange. TPE.
Her Master had spoken with her about it before they wed, and she had agreed, yes, yes. She loved him. She would do anything to make him happy, because he made her the happiest woman on earth. Their wedding portraits hung in a rarely-used sitting room on the second floor, where they often entertained family. It was one of the vanilla rooms. She was not his slave in that room. She stood beside him and greeted visitors and guests in that and a few other rooms which were designated as "strictly vanilla."
She hated those rooms.
Rrriip.
Molly stared up past Ms. Bobo, remembering her wedding day. She had enjoyed the ceremony, as well as the celebration afterward that had gone on all night. But she'd loved the honeymoon most of all, when he had snapped on her eternity collar. It was the type of metal collar that had to be cut off to be removed.
Those photos from the wedding were strange to her. The fancy white dress instead of the nakedness she naturally moved in now. And no collar around her neck, not the slim metal seamless collar or any of the thicker leather collars he sometimes used to restrain her. In the wedding photos they stood side-by-side, a couple. Well, not exactly side-by-side. He was taller and so she was looking up at him, at his thick, wavy blond hair and golden skin. She was the pale, dark-haired girl beside him, fallen into a dream. Even as the photographer had posed them and taken the photos, Molly knew it was false. Playacting. She ought to have been kneeling, naked and collared, at his feet.
Ms. Bobo made a grunting sound and gesture that Molly knew now meant to turn over. She got on all fours and spread her legs, arching her back. At one time this had embarrassed her, but now it just meant the bikini wax was nearly over. Ms. Bobo spread her ass cheeks with her gloved hands—quick, businesslike handling. A dab of petroleum jelly on her anus and more hot wax spread between her cheeks. Molly hated the feeling of the hot sticky wax more than the actual pain of the hair removal. That was quickly over, like a massive bandage being ripped off. But when the wax was hot, being spread on her, she knew the pain was still coming, and she hated waiting for pain.
Rrriip. Ouch.
Ms. Bobo packed up her kit and left with the same scowl she'd arrived with. While Molly showered, Ms. Bobo would go out to Master's office where Mrs. Jernigan would pay her and schedule Molly’s next appointment. Mrs. Jernigan and Ms. Bobo were equally frownish most days. When Molly saw them together, she would steel herself against laughing at their battle of scowls. Unlike Ms. Bobo, Mrs. Jernigan spoke to Molly, but it was generally to give directions and relay Master's orders. Mrs. Jernigan was Master's eyes and ears while he was away. She was also his housekeeper and general assistant. There was a chef too, to whom Molly was forbidden to speak, but Molly was never permitted in the kitchen so she couldn't have spoken to him anyway. She didn't even know what he looked like, only that she ate the food he prepared, and that it was very delicious. Well, mostly it was delicious. Sometimes, if Molly was being punished, the chef was asked to make her bland, tasteless things.
"Girl!" Mrs. Jernigan's Irish-inflected voice rose above the noise of the shower. Molly shut off the water and toweled off.