Free Darker by Ashe Barker Page B

it. And it’s too messy. And the light’s better in here. Don’t want to miss any of your important little places, Miss Byrne. And the microwave’s handy—for heating the wax,” he explains helpfully.
    Out of excuses I shrug, and slide onto the table, bum first then swing my legs up. I position myself carefully on my back, as instructed, on the towels. I arrange the cushions under my head and make myself comfortable. I wish.
    Nathan glances at me and puts the bowl on the trolley, striding off into the bedroom. He comes back moments later with two pillows. “Sorry, I forgot about the head end. These are for under your bum. Lift up.”
    I oblige, thrusting my hips upwards and he pushes both bulky pillows under me, raising my bottom a good foot off the table top.
    “You can keep the bathrobe on if you like.” I nod, hugging it closer across my breasts. “Just hitch up the bottom. Push it up above your waist, and lie back.”
    I do as I’m told, lifting the robe to expose my body, naked from the waist down. I shouldn’t be self-conscious by now but I am, and I move to push a corner back, just enough to cover my groin. He smiles, shakes his head, and gets on with the matter in hand.
    “Right up above your waist, Miss Byrne, please.”
    Resigned, I do as he asks and close my eyes, waiting.
    “I’m going to remove all the hair this first time. Miss Byrne. Maybe later, when it grows back, we’ll leave this bit, just keep it short perhaps, because it is a truly lovely shade of red.” He is casually combing his fingers through the golden ginger curls covering my pubic bone. “Open your legs.”
    I do, and he slips his hand between, gently tugging the wispy strands of hair around my vagina. “This all goes. And stays gone.” Lifting my knee with one hand he reaches lower, his fingers circling my now exposed anus and reaching between the cheeks of my bum. I close my eyes, mortified, not least as I didn’t even realise I had hair there. I do. I definitely do. I feel the light tug as he draws it between his fingers. “This too, definitely.”
    I feel desperately vulnerable, exposed, lying on the table, my legs spread wide open while he examines me critically, his fingers cool and businesslike. I instinctively tense when he picks up a small pair of scissors.
    “Keep still, Miss Byrne. We don’t want any accidents.” He repositions the lamp at the opposite end of the table to shine directly between my legs. He turns so his back is to me as he leans over to pay close attention to my groin, and he starts to snip at the hair.
    I lie there, silent, aware of every touch, every slight pull as he eases the hair taut then clips it, dropping the discarded bits into a small pile beside me. He quickly trims the hair at the front then, lifting my right leg and bending it at the knee he shoves it outwards. My left leg is lying straight. He leans over a little more, adjusts the lamp, and continues to clip the hair. I feel his fingers parting the lips of my vagina to reach every strand, gently nudging around my clitoris. He pushes my bent leg down and repeats the action with the left one opening the other side of my most private place for his detailed scrutiny and intimate examination. With his finger he again eases my vagina open, dispassionately stroking my labia as he clips and tidies, preparing me for the ultimate humiliation.
    I am beyond mortified. I close my eyes, will myself to lie still, to take it, and I just wish it was over.
    It seems to take ages, but in reality must have only been a couple of minutes before he straightens, and glances back at me. “You okay, Miss Byrne? Quite comfortable?”
    “No. I hate this. Please, just hurry up. Get it over with.”
    “Happy to oblige, as ever, Miss Byrne. Lift your leg, bend it at the knee and let it drop to the side, nice and wide for me, please.” And I do as I am told, dutifully lifting and bending my right leg to expose my groin.
    Facing me this time, he takes the bowl