by Meghan Quinn
“He’s all over you. I saw the way he was looking at you in the hallway and the porn date last night, not to mention the vibrator and Kindle. He wants in your pants.”
“That is so not true, and stop talking about it. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable around him. We’re just friends. That would be like you saying you want to get in my pants.”
Delaney looked me up and down and smirked. “I’d tap that.”
“Flattering, but no.”
We got off the subway and headed up the pee covered stairs of the subway underground to our destination. The stench of the New York subways was something I would never get over. If anything, pee on the subway tracks, not on the stairs. My biggest fear was tripping while climbing them and catching myself in a puddle of pee; I wouldn’t be able to handle living my life after such a traumatic event.
“You know he’s a virgin chaser, right?”
“Who?” I asked, still thinking about the subway stairs.
“Henry. He loves welcoming virgins into the world of sex.”
“That’s not true,” I said, actually not knowing if I was right or not. It didn’t seem like Henry. Yes, he liked to bring women back to the apartment, but he was a genuine guy, sweet, kind…there wasn’t a mean or manipulative bone in his body…that was why I loved him so much.
He was a ladies’ man, though. The majority of women Henry brought back to the apartment looked more like two cent hookers rather than chastity belt wearing nuns, so to say he was a cherry chaser was news to me.
“Think what you want, but he loves a virgin.”
Not wanting to talk about Henry behind his back, I dropped the subject the moment we walked in the salon. It was a soothing environment, which was surprising, given what was going on in the back rooms. The walls were a neutral tan color with green hues and bamboo surrounding the room, giving off an almost serene feeling. Maybe the waxing wasn’t going to be so terrible. Nothing terrible could go on in a place like this…where waterfalls winked at you and the sweet scent of tenderness greeted you at the door.
“Miss Bloom,” the receptionist greeted me with a smile. “Right this way.”
Before walking away, I turned and gave Delaney a nervous look, and in return she squeezed my hand with a wink and said, “Don’t scream too loud.”
That wasn’t all too reassuring.
The receptionist spoke to me as she led me down the dark, yet soothing, hallway that was filtered with soft lighting and calming music. When we passed doors on either side of me, I would occasionally hear a yelp or the sound of what seemed like Velcro being pulled off magnetic fabric. Fear started to tickle down my back, as I tried to think about what Delaney had gotten me into.
“You’ll be with Marta; she’s one of our best technicians. I informed Marta this was your first time, so she is aware to be gentle with you.”
As opposed to rough, I thought, as she escorted me into the room. Why wouldn’t you be gentle when you were pulling out every last hair from your most sensitive lady bits?
“Marta will be with you in a moment,” the receptionist continued. “For now, take off your pants and panties. You can place them in the dresser over there, and then lay on the table with that cloth over your lap for privacy. Would you like any tea?”
“I’m good,” I gulped, as I looked around the room. It looked like a relaxing place, but I knew sadist things occurred in here; the walls were talking to me, telling me to run, run like hell. Before I could say I wasn’t quite ready, the receptionist shut the door and left me to strip down.
Giving myself a pep talk, I peeked into my pants and told my vagina that even though what was about to happen to her was construed by the devil himself, I still loved her and hopefully, such actions would bring great rewards in the future.
With all the bravado I had, I took my pants off, folded them gently into the dresser, which was an odd thing to me, but I wasn’t going to focus on it, and then took off my boy shorts. I owned thongs and only wore them when absolutely necessary. I lived in boy shorts my whole life and didn’t plan on changing, even if I wanted some action.
After everything was tucked away, I hopped up on the table and placed the cloth over my lap, which seemed completely useless, given the fact that Marta would soon be spreading hot wax all over my vagina in a couple of minutes.
Waiting for Marta to appear was pure torture. The music in the room was just loud enough that it drowned out the shrill cries from the rooms next to me, but I could still vaguely hear the pain coming from every woman in the salon. I could feel the crying vaginas, calling out to all other vaginas in the vicinity to clam up, to turn inside out and run for their damn lives, to never show fold in a salon like this again.
Pictures of trees and meadows scoured the walls, trying to distract me from what was about to happen, but I saw right through their tactics, because all my mind was focused on was the wax that was heating up to the side, and the strips waiting to be stuck to my milky white skin.
That’s right…milky white!
“What am I doing?” I asked myself, as I pressed my fingers to my eyebrows.
I was seconds from getting up and putting my pants back on when the door to my room opened and in walked an oversized, uni-brow sporting, perverse looking she-man wearing an ill-fitting dress, knee high white stockings, and her hair in two pig tail buns. Her uni-brow snarled at me as she drew closer, and I could hear my vagina weep from a far distance. I tried to do some keegles, sending her a Morse code that I was gravely sorry for what was about to happen, but the damn bitch gave me the old middle clit and told me to fuck off by instantly turning into a world of itch.
Uncomfortable in so many ways, I shifted on the table, trying to look nervous, but instead, aimed to scratch that unscratchable itch that only a finger to the vag would get.
“You look ill; you okay?” Marta said in a heavy accent that I could only assume was Hungarian.
“Just nervous,” I admitted, while I continued to shift.
“No need to be nervous. Marta knows what to do.”
She better, I thought, as she pulled a rolling table full of wax and strips close to me. A light sheen of sweat broke out on my skin as Marta whipped off my cloth and placed her hands on my knees and spread my legs as wide as they could go.
Mary Magdalene!
Her head lowered down and studied my most private of areas. My gynecologist wasn’t even this thorough when examining me, and she sure as hell wasn’t this close. I swear, I felt Marta snort into my valley of wonders.
“Whatcha looking for down there?” I asked, wishing her nose wasn’t so close to my vagina.
“Want to see what kind of thickness I will be working with. Looks like I will need to use more wax than expected.”
“What? Why?”
“Your hair is thick. It’s like rain forest. Too many heavy vines, especially in the dark areas,” Marta said without sugar coating it.
“Dark areas?”
“Yes, inside of vagina and around anus, but we will get to that.”
“I’m sorry, did you say anus?”
Marta was mixing the wax as she spoke, “Yes, your anus, it’s the hole between the two butt cheeks.”
“I know what an anus is, Marta,” I said, exasperated. “I’m just wondering why you’re talking about it.”
“You are signed up for Brazilian, no?”
“And your point?” I asked, growing sweatier by the second.
“Hole to hole,” Marta said, while picking up a thick Popsicle stick and grabbing a thick coat of wax on it.
“Hole to…holy prepubescent hairs!” I yelled as Marta coated my vagina with some wax.
“Hold on,” Marta said, as she placed a strip on my skin. There were bars on the side of the table that my hands went instinctively to, wondering what the hell was going to happen next. “Three, two, one…”
Rip!
Heavy black spots appeared in my vision as pain ricocheted over my skin.
“My clit, you tor
e my clit off,” I screamed, as my hands went to my crotch, but were quickly swatted away by Marta, who set down another wax strip and then ripped it off in a matter of seconds.
My head flew back and I begged for her to stop, but the she-devil herself didn’t listen as she continued to rip hair after hair right out of me. She tossed pubic covered wax strips to the side, and I searched them for signs of my lady folds. I swore to the heavens above they were attached to them, because I was almost one hundred percent positive they were no longer attached to my body.
“I’m bleeding, I know I am. Just tell me. Am I bleeding? Sometimes I have a hard time clotting, does it look like that?”
“You’re fine,” Marta said, matter-of-factly, as she placed a strip right over my vagina. “Three…”
“No, Marta, please, leave Virginia alone.”
“Two…”
“Marta, I thought we were friends. Leave the vagina alone.”
“One…”
“I’ll do anything you want,” desperation laced my voice. “Just don’t…”
Rip!
“Captain Cunt Ripper,” I screamed, as tears fell from my eyes. “You’re a cunt ripper,” I said, startling myself with the menacing tone in my voice. I looked up at Marta to apologize, but the she-devil just laughed. She laughed at me!
She was a barbarian.
She brought out the potty mouth in me, and I hated her for it. Never once had I ever say the C-word out loud, but with Marta at the helm of my vagina, inappropriate words just flowed right out of me.
“On all fours,” she said, while tapping my legs shut.
“What?” I asked, too delirious from pain to process anything.
“Get on all fours and spread your legs wide.” I paused, not wanting to do what she said until her uni-brow got angry and practically started barking at me. “Now.”
Eeep!
Quickly, I turned over and got up on all fours, sticking my ass in the air.
Without warning, she spread wax over my anus and applied a wax strip. There were handles at the top of the table that I took advantage of, and in one smooth motion, Marta ripped my butthole right off my body to join my other lady bits in the graveyard of broken and torn private parts.
“Demon, you’re a demon,” I muttered, as Marta placed both of her hands on my butt cheeks and spread them wide. I could feel her face close in, and at that moment, I prayed to the flatus gods that they would award me with a prize winning toot that would curl her eyebrow right into a fro, but was I ever that lucky? No.
Instead, Marta said, “We will bleach too.”
“Bleach what? You’re removing all the hair.”
“Bleach the anus,” she said, as she placed another strip of paper on me.
“What? Ahhh, cock sucking sadist,” I called out, as my forehead found the cushion of the table.
“One more, and then we will do the bleaching.”
“Wait, why are we bleach…bouncing beluga whales, I hate you,” I cried out, after she pulled one last strip.
“All done,” she tapped my ass as I tried to catch my breath from the onslaught of the uni-brow waxing beast.
“We will do light bleach; just stay like that.”
I felt too abused to even stop her, so I just curled up against the bed with my ass in the air, trying to find my happy place where unicorns frolicked in glitter fields of donuts and cherry trees.
It wasn’t until I actually got home and sat on my bed that I finally came out of the fog that I was in, that Marta put me under.
The comfort of my room encased me as I stared down at the ground, wondering if I would ever feel my nether regions again. I was too scared to even look at what Marta did to me, and to say I was on fire down below was an understatement.
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to my dresser, grabbed a pair of short shorts and a big shirt and started to take off my clothes to get ready for an early bed. I was in no mood to talk to my roommates.
Henry tried to talk to us when we got back but I just went straight to my room and shut my door, not even talking to Delaney. I’ve never felt so torn apart in my life, so openly massacred from the waist down. There had to be skin missing; there was no doubt in my mind that I would be needing some extra vitamins to repair whatever damage was caused down below. If Delaney wanted to prolong my virginity, she hit the mark, because right now, nothing was even getting close to my vagina with a ten foot pole.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled down my pants and then my boy shorts. My eyes lifted to the mirror that was standing in front of me, and I nearly screamed at the sight that I saw in the reflection.
I was completely bare, but in place of hair, there were a million red bumps all over my skin. I squatted to the ground, spread my legs and looked in the mirror. From my belly button to my ass was a line of red bumps caressing my skin that led to a rather white looking asshole.
“Holy fuck,” I said, not caring about my language one bit.
“Rosie? You in there?” Delaney called out, knocking this time.
“Don’t come in here,” I yelled back.
“Rosie, I have some cream for you to put on your vagina, it should help with the pain.”
I put my shorts on quickly, and then went to the door. I whipped it open and gave Delaney my best death glare.
“You have cream to help with the pain? Do you happen to have any cream to help with the giant red brick road I have that will take you to the wizard of bleached white assholes?”
Delaney’s mouth dropped open as she glanced down at my crotch.
“You bleached your asshole?”
“Yeah, and it looks like fucking Saturn in the middle of a red colored meteor shower. What the hell, Delaney?”
A small smile tried to peek past her lips, but she was wise enough to tamp it down before I slapped it right off her face.
“I never told you to bleach your asshole.”
“You got your asshole bleached?” Henry asked as he walked by, stopping mid-stride when he heard bleach and asshole in the same sentence.
“I didn’t want to. Marta made me.”
“Who’s Marta?”
“The she-devil who did this to me,” I stated while pulling my shorts down, just enough to show some of the red bumps.
“Oh, my God,” Delaney said, while Henry cringed in the background and took off for his room, clearly knowing when he wasn’t needed. “You must have had an allergic reaction to the wax.”
“You think?” I asked, while everything in my nether regions continued to burn. “What do I do?”
“Sit on ice?” Delaney shrugged.
I pointed at her before closing my door and said, “I don’t like you right now.”
“Fair enough,” she said, while the door closed on her face. “You’ll thank me in a couple of days…”
“That’s if I don’t murder you in your sleep,” I threatened.
I walked over to my bed and plugged in my phone. Thank her, was she serious? I nearly lost every sexual organ off my body today and I was supposed to thank her? Pretty sure Marta almost ripped out my uterus at one point; there was no way I would be thanking Delaney.
I grabbed my journal and started writing.
June 3, 2014
Don’t trust anyone named Marta, especially if they wear knee-high stockings and spread your legs as if it’s second nature. If only she accidently got a little wax on that uni-brow of hers that seemed to have a mind of its own. The damn thing held its little uni-brow stomach and cackled at me with each rip and tear of my labia.
Brazilian wax, more like fuck you in the ass wax, because that’s what it felt like, not that I would know, but I assume that’s what it felt like. There was no way what happened to me was legal, and there’s a reason they keep those rooms dark and full of music, because they don’t want you to really get a good look at the technicians or hear what they’re saying. It’s all a conspiracy. There’s probably some lab in the back where they turn pubic hair into some kind of black mar
ket drug. It’s the only explanation I can come up with as to why these ladies take pride in ripping sensitive hair right off a woman.
I understand you’re supposed to present a pretty muffin to your man, but is a Brazilian really necessary? Why isn’t a trim sufficient enough?
Note to self, see what it takes to become a wax technician. Payback is a bitch, Marta, and I’m coming after you.
I set my notebook to the side and got under my covers, just as I received a text on my phone. I grabbed it and saw that it was from Henry.
Henry: Sorry about your red brick road, love. At least you have the great and powerful asshole sitting between your two cheeks; that’s something to be proud of. There’s no place like between your legs, there’s no place like between your legs. (Said while clicking your pussy lips together)
Shaking my head and laughing, I sent a text back to my very nosy best friend.
Rosie: Have I told you how much I hate you?
Henry: Don’t lie, love. You love me and you know it. Feel better. You have to get better for swing dancing on Friday. Big date night!
Rosie: Yeah, let’s just see if I can make it through the night without clawing my vagina off from it itching so much.
Henry: Your vagina actually just sent me a text. It said I should come over and rub some soothing lotion on it.
Rosie: Would that be with your dick?”
Henry: Whoa! Randy Rosie, I like it! Offer still stands if you need it. Love you, Rosie.
Rosie: Love you, Henry. Now leave me alone.
Chapter Five
The Backdoor Ball Sac
“I’m almost there. I’ll be sure to let you know how giant a Maine Coon really is,” I reassured Jenny, who wanted nothing more than to be working on assignment with me.
“You know that’s not what I want to know. I want to know what it’s like working with Lance. God, he’s gorgeous. You’re so lucky.”