Getting Waxed

Anal Fucking

WARNING: This is a FANTASY story. It may contain themes of consensual non-consent, slavery, dominance/submission, and/or extreme pain. Please do not try any of this at home. Do not try ANY fantasy with ANYONE unless you’ve discussed it in detail with them beforehand. Informed consent is fucking mandatory.


You were so nervous. Daddy had ordered you to do this, but you weren’t sure you were ready. You were so scared. You didn’t know how this was going to play out.

You lay on the table. You were naked, by necessity. There was no way to do this with any dignity, and you suspected that was one reason why your daddy wanted you to do it.

The waxer came in. You were happy to see she was a pretty lady, mid 40s, blond and curvy. Her accent was Eastern European, maybe Russian. It was the normal small talk at first, seemingly the same as every other waxer. This wasn’t your first time for this part. The feeling of the hot wax on your cunt followed by the smooth cloth and then that intense but short lived pain as she ripped the hairs out was both excruciating and incredibly exciting, as always. You squealed a little. You tried to hide it, to suppress it, but deep down you loved the pain, the surprise, the violence of the ripping sensation…

When she was done, you knew what you had to do. What he had told you that you had to do. You were so scared, but you knew that disappointing daddy wasn’t an option. Once her pussy waxing job was complete, she started to get up and leave, and you had no choice but to say it… Those words your daddy made you memorize…

“Ma’am… Will you please also wax my asshole?”

As you wait for her to react to you words, you roll from your back to your hands and knees. You arch your back just like when daddy fucks you. Your ass is now sticking out, seemingly beckoning to the lady who was so recently about to walk away.

She stops at the door and hesitates. You see her face, and you can tell she’s considering. Finally, she seems to make a decision. She sighs, and she walks back towards you. You don’t move, hoping and praying it works out the way you’ve always dreamed. The way it happens in both your fantasies and those disturbing dreams you don’t talk about. Not with anyone. She stops behind your upturned ass, and runs her fingers slowly along your thighs.

“An extra hundred, and I will treat you the way you deserve.”

You look back. You lock eyes. She stares, intensely, and you have to look away. But you nod, slowly, reluctantly, and turn back to look ahead at the blank wall in front of you so that she can’t see the fear in your eyes.

Still on your hands and knees, you don’t move as she opens your purse, takes money out, and puts the purse back next to the pile of your clothes. You don’t know if she took the right amount, and thinking about it, you realize you don’t care.

She opens a drawer and removes a surprising number of accessories. You feel scared. Vulnerable. Did your master know this particular venue would be prepared for a situation like this? You can’t think about it, as your mind is occupied by the sensation of the waxer strapping you down to the table. You’re tied on your hands and knees, each forearm and each leg secured to the table. While you can struggle and shift, you know you can’t leave. You’re committed at this point. You’re at her mercy, for better or worse.

She ties weights to your nipples, and holy shit does it hurt. Your nipples have always been super sensitive. You cum so hard when your nipples are tortured, and now this random stranger at this hole in the wall waxing facility is attaching giant istanbul travesti nipple clamps with weights on them to your nipples. They dangle in the most difficult, painful way. Every small movement sends your tits swinging, which makes the weights swing, which tortures your nipples with the most horrible pain.

“You must be Master (name)’s new fucktoy…”

You don’t even need to answer. She sees the surprise in your eyes, and it’s all the confirmation she needs. Her devious, satisfied smile scares you. But it also excites you in that deep, dark place that you don’t like to talk about.

She gets a roll of duct tape, and uses the tape to separate your ass cheeks. The tape runs tightly from your ass crack to your thighs, on both sides of your body. Your cunt and asshole are exposed as much as they can be.

“An asshole waxing is very important for any slut. But the result is so much more…” She grins. “Well, it’s so much more effective if the skin beneath is swollen.”

You hear a whooshing noise a split second before you feel the pain. Your asshole and pussy burn, like they do when your master punishes you for a particularly extreme transgression. But this time, it’s not your ass or your thighs that feel the sting, it’s your asshole and your cunt lips. It’s so much different than a spanking from Him. It’s more sensitive. More painful. More intense. More everything.

She swings the flogger again, hitting you right in the crotch a second time. You can’t hold it in and squeal, loudly.

“Oh, that won’t do. We have neighbors” she said with a disappointed tone to her voice as she picks your panties up off the floor and shoves them in your mouth. “Is that better?” You sob a little. “Good!” she says as she swings her hands to deliver another blow to your sensitive lower body.

It’s the third blow.

Then there’s a fourth.

You lose count after twenty. Was the total forty strokes? Maybe fifty? You can’t tell. The pain is so intense, but then of course, so is the pleasure. Or is it the same thing? It’s so… So pure. So hateful. So loving. So incredible. Between the direct strokes to your crotch and the weights attached to your nipples swinging back and forth, you are overcome with both agony and joy. But you know, deep down, that you deserve it, because you are a slut, and that’s what sluts need. Isn’t it?

When she is done with the flogging, it’s time for the wax. You hear her. Every step. You are expecting it to come. You are prepared, but the hot wax on your tortured, red, swollen asshole is a hundred times more painful than your normal waxing. You scream. It’s agony. It’s a primal thing. It completely bypasses your conscious brain, and only interacts with that deep level of your instinct. Your core. Your most inner self. Your inner self can’t stand it, it hurts so bad. Like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It’s entirely new. Your throat hurts from the energy you put into voicing your pain. But of course, your panties muffle the sound, so your agony remains your own. It’s private. Intimate. Close. Personal. Nobody will ever know, except you.

And her.

The ripping of the cloth is even worse. Tears are streaming down your face at this point. Sobs rock your body, which makes the weights on your tits swing even more, causing even more sobs. More pain. The fact that this is a pain causing pain causing pain cycle doesn’t escape your notice, but you don’t see a way to stop it. Your agony is all consuming, and there’s no way for you to end it.

But then it’s done. Your asshole and cunt are now both clean. You’ve been purified, anadolu yakası travestileri in the most intimate sense. Surely, it must be over. You’re so relieved as she begins to untie you from your bonds. You slowly get down from your perch, careful not to unlatch your nipple weights, not to remove your gag, not to touch your burning, aching asshole as you carefully get down from the table. The only sound is you, crying and sobbing, the pain too intense for you to handle stoically.

“Now it’s time for my tip, little girl. Come here.”

She sits in the edge of a chair and beckons you towards her with the handle of the flogger. Your tears continue to flow as you walk slowly and shakily towards her. No matter how terrified you are, you don’t see a choice. This is what your daddy wanted of you, so you feel compelled to submit to this, no matter how unsure… no matter how scared… no matter how uncomfortable or painful you feel.

When you get close, she stops you with one word, “Kneel.”

You drop to your knees. The nipple weights let you know that sudden motion like that will continue to be painful, but you don’t even consider removing them without her permission. That just wouldn’t be right, somehow.

She slowly draws the panties from your mouth and says “It’s time for you to show me how much you appreciate my services.”

You know what she means. You understand the implication. Her legs spread as your face dives under her skirt, and you’re ready for a new experience.

Her pussy is musky. It’s wet. It’s intense. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you try and do things you think you’d like if the roles were reversed. You suck, you lick, you give it your all.

But apparently, you’re fucking terrible at it. She grabs your hair and tries to direct you, but she just ends up even more frustrated.

“Fuck, you’re terrible at this. You need some motivation…”

Then you hear that noise again. Just for a split second. Just before you feel that pain again as the flogger slams into your crotch. This time, your screams aren’t muffled by your own panties, they’re muffled by her cunt.

But apparently, that works. Your pain is her pleasure. She flogs you again and again in your sore, aching, swollen crotch. She targets your ass, your thighs, and everything in between. Your cunt and asshole are burning, but each hit brings her pussy the pleasure that your mouth wasn’t good enough to give her without that pain. Her hand on the back of your head rubbing your face into her crotch guides your mouth to her most sensitive parts. It teaches you with experience. It commands in ways you’re not entirely unfamiliar with.

After what seems like an eternity, she cums. It’s long, it’s loud, and it’s very, very wet. Both of you are breathing hard. Her in satisfaction, you in pain. Your tears cover your face, up until the point where she rubs her wet pussy all over your face, making sure to smear her cum all over you, replacing your tears with her juices. You’re so happy to not be having your nethers tortured that you barely even notice this new humiliation.

“Stand.” You don’t even have the strength or the will to resist her commands at this point. She walks around behind you.

“Bend forward and grab the chair”

You don’t even think, you just react, sending your nipple weights swinging, but you don’t even really notice the pain that seems so mild compared to what you’ve experienced in the last hour or so. You are standing with your legs spread, bending forward, grabbing the back of the chair istanbul travesti she had been sitting in moments before.

She gets the last of the implements from the drawer. The first of her new toys is a giant dildo. It’s bigger than any you’ve ever seen. She puts the blunt tip at the entrance of your cunt and starts pushing. There’s no way your poor little pussy could take such a toy, but not surprisingly, your cunt is drenched from the activities of the day, and using that lube, she is able to work that giant dildo into your pussy. It’s incredibly painful. The stretching is too much. It hurts so bad. You can’t possibly take it.

But you do. And after a few minutes of hard thrusting and a seemingly endless series of back and forth motion, the dildo’s all the way inside your incredibly sore cunt. You feel accomplished and proud at the fact that you’ve taken the physical manifestation of her desire into you, right up until the point that you hear her spit on the second dildo. It’s not as big as the first, but you have a disturbing premonition about where it’s going. You’re not done. There’s still more she needs from you.

That fear is confirmed as you feel the spit covered dildo at the entrance of your asshole. Your sobs and tears continue, or maybe they even intensify, as that new dildo pushes in just as slowly, but just as insistently as the first. The stretching of your body is agony, but you know better than to complain. Complaining is always met with more punishment and more pain where you come from. Finally, after more pain, more sobbing, and more intensity, it’s all the way in. The fact that your body is so full makes you feel so incredibly embarrassed. So humiliated. So disgusting. So incredibly fucking horny.

You don’t even know this woman.

She rips the tape off your butt cheeks. It’s a surprise, and painful, but you catch yourself wishing she had done it more slowly. More painfully. Drawn out the humiliation the way you liked.

But then there was more tape. Around your waist and between your legs it goes. The tape secures the toys deep inside you. There is no way for those toys to come out of your stretched little fuck holes with that tape holding them in.

“Stand up straight”

The toys shift inside you as you move, causing you beautiful agony.

She removes the weights from your nipples. You’re both happy and sad at the loss, as your tears continue to roll down your rosy red cheeks.

She carefully and lovingly helps you back into the simple little polka dot sundress you had worn into the little waxing shop, seemingly so long ago.

“You have an appointment two weeks from now for another waxing session. When you come back, you’ll bring those two toys that are inside you back to me, and you’ll bring them back in the same place they are now, do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am.” (sniffle)

“Good. You may leave now.”

“But Ma’am, may I please have an orga…”

Her palm hits your face with an incredibly loud crack. You’re dazed and fall to your knees, having not expected such violence out of this woman, despite her recent actions.

“You have not come close to earning that yet. One day, maybe. But not today. You will have to earn that reward with far more sacrifice and far more service than you have given so far. Now get the fuck off of my property before I rip that dress off and send you into the street naked!”

Your tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you scramble out of her door. You feel humiliated, you’re in incredible pain, you’re sobbing because of the torture you’ve received, but despite the giant toys shoved in your holes, despite the awkward bowlegged walking motion they cause, despite your red and swollen cunt and asshole, despite your humiliation and shame and fear, you can feel your cunt dripping with anticipation for your next waxing session.

Two weeks. Two more weeks. Oh God, can you wait two more weeks?!

The tears continue to flow.