Wax (a travel tale)

A few years back, in India, I took a girl to a shop specialising in depilation.

Because this is a story about something that happened in India, I guess I should say that she was a woman over thirty with social and economic power.

So why “girl”? When I was growing up, I was taught always to call any female person over 16 a “woman”. I did for a while, because I like girls and I like women, and for slightly different reasons I want both classes of person to be safe and happy. But as soon as I started fucking, many women showed me that they were more pleased with me when I called them girls, whatever they might claim about their preference. (I mean in sexual contexts: not in academia, work, and so on.)

And my powerful girl in India preferred to be called a girl. 

Anyway, that day she’d shaved her pubic hair for me. So I pretended I was displeased with her effort.

I took her to a depilator, in a part of town where all the hair-removers had congregated. We taxied through the marketplace, with people looking in to see a girl with her hands on her head and her legs under a blanket. And a man’s hand under the blanket. Once we were out of the taxi I led her through the district with my finger and thumb pinching her ear, taking occasional whacks at her bottom.

There were people who used creams and razors and even in some cases lasers, though they drew the line at tasers, and there were people who used traditional methods involving tightly twisted lengths of string. That looked painful, so I took her to the cleanest one of those, that offered private space. 

The woman who ran the shop knew why I insisted on staying to watch, and she seemed to know that the girl on her back on the table, with her knees up and spread, was a girl under discipline. She knew something was up, anyway. If anything it made her more ruthless. 

Afterwards my girl was pleasantly subdued. She said she felt very submissive and service-oriented, and very sensitive. I could make her moan just by blowing on her lips.

Later, she made other noises.

And later still, talking about her day, she said the woman’s ministrations, waxing and pulling her, being watched by me, knowing that I’d smack her in front of this stranger if she wasn’t cooperative, made her feel “absolutely violated”. 

She said “absolutely violated” with wonder and awe. And she said it three times.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.