How much time do I have left? I dare not waste any of it by checking.
And now I have to expose myself further, to reach those hairs beneath.
I’d never been more wrong when I naïvely thought this wasn’t an effective punishment. I’m no longer sure I wouldn’t have been better off taking his belt across my ass. The pain would be worse, but the humiliation… that’s something else.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I lift my feet and place them on the corners of the chair, my knees parted to reach between them, my pelvis tilted upward. It is, without doubt, the most revealing, intimate and obscene position I’ve ever taken before another living soul.
I carefully feel below my vulva with my fingers, pulling each hair I find in quick succession.
Alex helps, in his own way, by steadily drumming his fingertips on the cover of his book. He’s not reading anymore; I know where his eyes are.
Sorry to be so distracting.
My breathing is ragged. A rivulet of sweat slips down between my breasts. The whole of my pussy throbs, my thighs slick. If I could die from shame, it would be a welcome escape.
“One minute.”
I pluck the last few hairs I can find and rapidly run my fingers over myself, checking I haven’t missed any. I find one, then another. A third. I pluck each swiftly, and check again.
Wherever my fingers touch I find nothing but sensitive, smooth, slick skin.
“Time.”
My feet slip off the corners of the chair and I drop the tweezers. I press my thighs together, hidingmyself, covering my swollen, throbbing sex, and grip the sides of the chair, trying to catch my breath. I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“Well done, Tink.” His voice is steady.
“Thank you.” Mine is not; it’s barely a whisper.
“Take a moment to compose yourself.” He rises, fetching a glass and a bottle of water, pouring it for me and handing it to me. “You should hydrate.”
I will, in a minute. I can’t move right now. I just hold the glass, resting its cold base on my burning thigh.
“Then if you’ll kindly lie down on the bed, I’ll examine you to see if you were successful.”
In consternation, my eyes flick up. He’s watching me, perfectly serious, perfectly composed.
He’s going to check me. And if he finds a single hair?
Fuck.
Twenty
Vicky
Alex doesn’t rush me.
I take a sip of my water, then a bigger gulp. Then I drink more slowly, making it last, delaying the inevitable moment when I have to walk over to the bed, lie down, and be ‘checked.’
Will he find anything?
Yes, if he looks between your legs, he will find something.
All right… will he find anyhairs?
I mean fuck, he’s going to lie me down andexamineme. It’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Clinical. So veryAlex.
Yet so very intimate.
