passed the couch. Then he said, quietly, “Rose, this just got a lot more serious.”
She ran for the door, and tried to open the lock, once again screaming, but he was
upon her instantly, with his hand over her mouth. He dragged her over to the middle
of the living room, where his bag still sat. He pushed her to the floor, kneeling
next to her with his hand still over her mouth.
He got the ball gag from his bag, and buckled it on her. Then, the detail of her voice
taken out of the equation, he made her lie flat on the rug.
“Don’t make this worse than it already is, Rose,” he said. “Stay in this position
or you’re going to wish I were putting the whole punisher in your ass.”
He got the cuffs and locked them around her wrists and ankles. He got the belt and
put it around her waist. Then he got the collar.
“This is your first collar, Rose,” he said. “What color is it? No, don’t answer. I
know you can see what color it is, even in the dark. Why do you think it’s red, Rose?
You don’t have to answer that either. It’s red because it’s a bad girl collar. Bad
things happen to girls in red collars at the Institute, Rose, when they get taken
behind the blue door. Let me assure you that you don’t want to arrive wearing a red
collar.”
The look of fear on her face was exactly what he wanted to see.
“You’re a lucky girl, though, Rose. In the morning, I’m going to let you earn your
good girl collar. For now, though, you really do need your sleep.”
He locked the cuffs together in front of her, and then locked the wrist cuffs to her
collar. After taking the ball gag off, with a promise to make her take the whole punisher
dry if she made a sound, he left her there and went and slept in her bed.
* * *
In the morning, he laid a big bath towel on her bed, and carried her from the living
room and put her on it. She was asleep when he picked her up, but she woke as he was
carrying her to the bed. He watched her go through the disorientation attended upon
waking in such strange circumstances. When he saw that she had remembered, he put
the ball gag back on her and said, “It’s time to wax your cunt, Rose.”
He went to the living room to get the waxing kit and the little scissors from his
bag. When he returned to the bedroom, Rose began shaking her head. “If you think I’m
going to untie you, Rose, you’re fooling yourself. Girls in red collars don’t get
what they want; they get what their masters want. And I know what you want to say,
too. You want to say ‘Master Leo, please shave me instead.’ Well, if you had been
a good girl, Rose, perhaps I would have considered it. Your owner specified waxing,
but because you aren’t going to be given to him for about a month, we could have started
you off with a shave. But like so much else, Rose, you lost your chance at that when
you tried to escape.”
Leo sat down on the bed. He put the waxing kit next to him, and seized Rose’s knees
without warning, lifting them and separating them, while her ankles stayed locked
together in their cuffs. He stroked her cunt lightly. Then he took the scissors in
his right hand and showed them to Rose.
“We’re going to start with a little trim.”
Leo bent to his work. Rose squirmed and tried to close her legs, but Leo pushed his
left hand between her thighs and said, “Better not, Rose. These scissors are sharp.”
Rose gave a little mew of frustration and stilled her legs.
He could see, as he began to take bunches of the soft, springy hair in the fingers
of his left hand, and cut them off, how aroused the shameful process was making Rose.
At the fifth or sixth tug on her quickly vanishing pubic hair, she was giving little
sighs despite herself, and by the time her golden curls all lay in a little heap on
the towel between her legs, there was a wet spot there, too.
“You stay just like this, sweetheart,” Leo said,