enjoying herself, and so was her precious little junior-slave,
Kimberly. As for her senior-slave, Gabriella ("Gabby" to
her friends), her feelings were... somewhat mixed.
Mistress was in a casual mood, so rather than wearing one of her
leather or latex "duty uniforms," she was in smoky-black
lingerie: panties, bustier, and lounging robe, all gauze thin
and doing very little to conceal the details of her athletic but
very feminine 40-something body.
Slave Kimberly was in uniform. That is, she was
naked except for the stainless steel collar locked around her
neck. Her long blond curls were pulled back and plaited in
a single braid draped behind her head and down her smooth, tan
back. It was secured by a baby-blue ribbon the color of
her sparkling eyes, tied with a neat bow. The
20-something's body was as fit, firm, and shapely as her
mistress', but decidedly more "girly." Kimberly looked
like a teenager, a very cute teenager with a dimpled
smile. Mistress didn't mind, to say the least.
Slave Gabby was also in uniform; however, unlike Kimberly, she
was restrained. Her svelte, 40-something dancer's body was
strapped to mistress' "special massage table." The table
in question could actually function as an excellent massage
table, but its various parts could also be cranked apart and
locked into different configurations. At the moment, Gabby
was on her back with her arms stretched to either side and her
legs splayed widely apart. Padded leather cuffs and taut
leather straps made sure she remained in that position, binding
her ankles, thighs, wrists, and upper arms and stretching across
her waist and above and below her modest breasts. The
straps were buckled tight enough to dimple her smooth, tan flesh
and the cuffs were wide, tight, and inescapable.
Gabby wasn't going anywhere. She could barely squirm, but
she was doing her best—to squirm, that is. She was also
mewling and moaning through the panties stuffed in her mouth and
the wide strip of Elastoplast tape sealing her lips and covering
most of her lower face. Her long, straight, blond hair was
a tousled mess, and her skin glistened with sweat.
And why was Gabby struggling, squirming, and sweating?
One, it was expected. And two, she had motivation.
Mistress' own pubic bush was thick, black, and luxuriant.
Her slaves' bushes were equally luxuriant, but, of course,
blond. In any case, Mistress had declared that she would
like to see how one of them looked with a Brazilian, a narrow
vertical "landing strip," rather than a full, natural
thicket—and Gabby was selected for the experiment.
That was all well and good, but Kimberly—mischievous little
scamp that she was—had taken charge of the experiment.
Gabby watched with growing alarm as Kimberly whispered in
Mistress' ear, and all Gabby could do was worry and
squirm. A safety razor, clippers, shave cream,
towels—everything Kimberly needed to accomplish the task at
hand—were waiting on a stainless steel stand next to the steel
stool waiting to support Kimberly's tight little dimpled
buns. The buns in question, however, were leaving the
room, and taking the rest of Kimberly with her.
Gabby shifted her gaze to her mistress. Gag aside, she
didn't attempt to inquire as to what was going on. That
just wasn't done. If Mistress wanted to gloat and tell her
what was about to happen, Mistress would gloat.
Anyway, Kimberly returned with a small steel tray covered by a
jade-green cloth. Smiling her sweet, dimpled smile, she
placed the tray on the stand next to the shaving equipment, then
removed the cloth with a flourish, revealing a magnifying glass
and an array of tweezers and forceps!
"Urrrk?" Gabby's worried blue eyes were locked with her
junior fellow-slave's laughing baby-blues.
"Yes," Kimberly confirmed. "Mistress has given me
permission to do this the hard way. Isn't that
Gabby watched in horror as Kimberly picked up the glass with her
left hand and a wicked looking pair of tweezers with her
right. She squirmed and tugged on her bonds and shifted
her gaze to Mistress. Mistress gazed back with serene
amusement. "Mrrrrk." Gabby tugged on her bonds,
again. Being involuntarily partially shaved
(Brazilianized?) was one thing. She'd been perfectly
willing to put on a show of Pitiful Suffering for Mistress'
benefit, but an involuntary plucking? She decided
to direct a gagged frown at her fellow-slave and would-be
plucker. "Mrrrpfh!" She really didn't expect it to
work... and it didn't.
Still smiling her dimpled smile, and her eyes still twinkling,
Kimberly leaned close to Gabby's splayed crotch, selected a
single pubic hair on what would be the right margin of the
Brazilian she pictured in her mind, closed the tweezers around
the base of the dark-blond short-and-curly... paused... and yanked
Gabby squeezed her eyes tightly closed and squealed through her
"What a ham," Mistress chuckled.
"Totally," Kimberly agreed, then selected a second target and
continued Gabby's partial defoliation.
long minutes later, Gabby was glowing like crazy. That is,
sweat beaded her forehead and glistened on the rest of her
body. Dripping was involved. Why? (1) The
spotlights overhead and focused on her helpless body were
hot. Also, (2) Kimberly had made significant
progress. In fact, a pair of narrow, hair-free corridors
outlined what would be the final borders of the Brazilian strip.
As at least some of the heat from the spotlights played across
her body, Kimberly was also shining. Her smile never
wavering, she plucked hair after hair from her senior
slave-sister's bush and deposited them one-by-one in a small
glazed bowl on the steel stand.
Mistress was not shining. A small fan played
across her lounging body and its artificial breeze was enough to
mitigate the effect of the spotlights. Truth be told, she
was glowing, just a little. Physically, she was
quite comfortable, but the tableau before her, under the hot
lights, was hot in every respect. And the fact
that the little melodrama of "suffering" and "torture" being
played out was entirely for her benefit—and that the actresses,
both actresses—wanted nothing more in the entire world
than to please her—that only added to the heat.
Mistress raised her right hand in a graceful gesture.
Kimberly paused in mid-pluck. "Mistress?"
"No more tweezers," Mistress clarified.
Kimberly affected a truly pitiful pout. "Oh,
"The tragedy," Mistress chuckled. "Go help Chef prepare
"Yes, Mistress," Kimberly giggled, planted a kiss on Gabby's
labia, then scampered from the room.
Mistress watched her go, dimpled butt and all, then climbed to
her feet and gracefully strolled to Gabby's side. Eyes
locked with her helpless slave, she slowly, carefully peeled the
tape from Gabby's lips, plucked the damp, crumpled panties from
her mouth, then leaned close and they shared a long, deep, wet
The kiss finally ended and Mistress sat on the stool recently
vacated by Kimberly.
Gabby watched as Mistress picked up a small electric
shaver. The device was stainless steel and the size and
shape of a small flashlight, with a compact, rectangular
head. She was very glad Mistress had not selected
the tweezers or a pair of forceps, but kept her expression
carefully neutral, not wanting to cause Mistress to change her
mind. However, she couldn't help but shiver and squirm
when Mistress switched on the shaver and began dragging the
buzzing head across the remaining hair to the right of the
designated Brazilian strip.
"Now," Mistress said quietly, concentrating on the task at hand,
"tell me about this 'beautiful lawyer' who keeps trying to
"Don't be jealous, Mistress," Gabby purred, a ghost of a smile
curling her lips.
"And don't forget your place, slave," Mistress chuckled.
In her "normal" life, when she wasn't Mistress' slave, Gabby
owned and operated a successful tavern. The ambiance was
dark paneling, cozy booths, and hanging plants, and it attracted
a mixture of professionals and working types, young and
old. Walking in the doors for the first time, it might be
mistaken for a trendy fern bar, but Gabby made sure all sorts of
people were welcome and felt at home. The place was clean,
the drinks potent, the beer cold, and the food delicious.
The public had responded and "Gabby's Place" thrived.
"She started coming in with friends from work," Gabby
said. "She's a corporate lawyer."
"Ouch," Mistress chuckled. "And yet, you like her?"
"I don't know what she's like in the courtroom or board room,"
Gabby continued, "but she's very nice. And talk about easy
on the eyes..." A delicate shiver shook her body.
Mistress had finished with the shaver, on the left and right,
and had returned it to the stand. "A body to die for, with
big brown eyes and amazing cheek bones... She's an
Iberian princess." Gabby's eyes widened, slightly.
Mistress had lifted the lid of an electric appliance about the
size and shape of a coffee or spice grinder.
Gabby swallowed, nervously. The appliance was designed to
melt paraffin and hold it at just the right temperature for
waxing. "Uh, anyway, she's very beautiful."
"And you think she's a dominatrix?" Mistress purred.
"I think she thinks she's a dominatrix," Gabby answered.
Mistress nodded. She was readying strips of gauze and
sorting through an assortment of camelhair brushes. "I
trust your judgement on such things," she said, then her smile
turned coy. "After all, you correctly sensed that I'm
a dominatrix soon after we met."
"The ropes preventing me from running away and the gag keeping
me from screaming for help were dead giveaways," Gaby drawled.
Mistress carefully placed a strip of gauze across the stubble to
the right of Gabby's Brazilian strip, then selected a brush and
began stirring the wax already melted in the appliance. "I
give you permission to invite her to the spa," she said.
"Give her one of my free spa-weekend Golden Tickets. Tell
her she won a contest."
"Yes, Mistress." Gabby winced as Mistress began painting
melted wax across the gauze strip. The sensation wasn't
exactly unpleasant, but it was... ominous.
"Alicia Riolobos, Mistress," Gabby answered.
"Alicia Riolobos," Mistress purred. "You know what will
happen if she doesn't live up to expectations, don't you?"
Gabby managed a smile. "Yes, Mistress." Gabby was
worried about how it would feel after the wax cooled, hardened,
and then Mistress ripped off the gauze, taking the
underlying stubble with it. She was not worried
about Mistress' reaction when she laid eyes on Alicia Riolobos.
stared at the plastic "ticket" in her hand with a dubious
smile. "I won the contest? What contest?"
Gabby chuckled. "Okay, there is no contest, but the
The ticket in question was metallic plastic, possibly Mylar, and
more like an elongated tag than a ticket. On one side was
the logo of a spa/resort, "The Willows," and on the reverse was
a QR code, a square block of seemingly random pixels that Alicia
knew were probably anything but random.
"An all expenses paid week at a luxury spa?" Alicia let
the card fall from her fingers and it landed on the table next
to her nearly empty plate. It had been an excellent
dinner, cedar grilled lemon chicken. She paused for a sip
of Chardonnay before continuing. "I assume I have to
suffer through a hard-sell pitch for a condo in the Arizona
Gabby smiled, "no suffering will be involved... probably."
She held up a second ticket. "The owner gave me these as a
favor, but I have to use them within the next two months or the
codes will be invalid." She paused to sip her own
wine. "I'm afraid we'll have to share a room."
Alicia's smile turned coy. "I see. You've been
to—" She glanced at the ticket, again. "The Willows
Gabby nodded. "Mountains in the background, cottonwoods,
aspens, willows lining a winding stream... The place is gorgeous,
and the service first rate. You'll never want to leave."
"I see," Alicia said, still smiling. "One bed in the room,
Gabby smiled back. "I guess it depends on what's
available. We'll see when we get there."
Alicia nodded. "Well... why not? I can use a
"Excellent!" Gabby gushed. "Bring a bikini, and a little
Alicia cocked an eyebrow. "The dining room is formal?"
"They aren't stuffy about it, but, yes," Gabby confirmed.
"The guests dress for dinner. And that's another
thing. The food is excellent. Some of my kitchen
staff have worked at The Willows, and vice versa."
Alicia sipped her wine, again. "I'll have to make sure
they can spare me at work. It shouldn't be a
problem. I have more than enough vacation days racked
up. I'll let you know."
Gabby nodded. "Okay." I love it when a plan
comes together, she thought as she reached for her
in uniform, but it wasn't one of her "Mistress uniforms."
Today, she was in her Lynda Ramsey, spa-owner uniform, office
variant. Specifically, she was in an expensive power suit:
high-heel pumps, stockings, pencil-skirt, tailored jacket, and
silk blouse. Her long, dark-brown curls were loose about
Kimberly was at her side, and the blond scamp was also in
uniform: deck shoes, white shorts, and a pastel green polo-shirt
with the Willows logo embroidered above the left breast.
Just beneath the logo was a gold name tag with her name in an
elegant script font. Kimberly's other uniform, her
stainless steel slave collar, was elsewhere.
They both were in Lynda's office with its stylish, expensive
furnishings and magnificent picture window vista of a garden
venue and the mountains beyond. Lynda was seated at her
desk with Kimberly standing at her side. Both were gazing
at the large monitor of Lynda's desktop work station, and
depicted on the screen was a crisp, high-resolution security
camera view of the spa's main swimming pool. Emerging from
the shallow end and climbing the steps was Alicia Riolobos,
wearing a black two-piece bathing suit.
Kimberly heaved a disappointed sigh.
Lynda couldn't help but smile. "What is it, little one?"
she purred, her eyes never leaving the screen, or Alicia's
dripping wet, magnificent body.
"I don't get to punish Gabby for you," Kimberly pouted.
"Yes," Lynda agreed. "Ms. Riolobos is beautiful."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard and a window popped to the
side. It was a list of spa activities scheduled for guest
Meanwhile, Bonnie, one of Kimberly's fellow spa-lackeys and
similarly uniformed, handed Alicia a large towel. The
officially designated "beautiful" lawyer dried her wet,
exquisite body as she strolled to a group of lounge
chairs. She settled onto a chair next to Gabby, who was
wearing (just barely) a pink string bikini, sipping what was
probably a rum drink of some sort, and reading a magazine.
"Two PM," Lynda read from Alicia's schedule, "full-body massage
with herbal wrap and soak. I think I might take the
occasion to introduce myself."
"I can't think of a better time," Kimberly said with a dimpled
"And don't worry about punishing Gabby," Lynda said. "I'm
sure I'll be able to think of an excuse."
"Mistress," Kimberly sighed, then leaned down and kissed Lynda's
"But always remember, Kim," Lynda purred, "what goes around,
"Yes, Mistress," Kimberly responded, but her smile never
wavered. Her eyes were locked on the screen. Alicia
was placing a drink order with Bonnie.
right," Alicia said, smiling at Gabby. "This place is
beautiful, and very restful."
Gabby smiled back. "Pastel earth-tones and natural
materials—well-tended, naturalistic gardens—timber-framed, and
earth-sheltered architecture throughout... What's not to
Both were dressed in guest robes and flip-flops, and were headed
for "Pavilion 12 Green," the site of their scheduled
massage. Thanks to the spa's plentiful signs, which were
equal parts art and information, they soon arrived at their
destination, a pair of massage tables under a green canopy and
surrounded by shrubs.
Two young women in their twenties were waiting, both in the
white shorts and pastel green polo shirt uniforms of the
staff. The first was a cute blonde with a name tag that
read "Kimberly." The second was a brunette with a
pixie-cut and a dusting of freckles across her nose and
cheeks. Her name tag read "Megan."
Kimberly took Alicia by the hand and led her to one of the
tables. "Welcome, madam. I'm Kimberly, and I'll be
your masseuse this afternoon."
"Thank you, Kimberly." Alicia released the sash of her
robe, Kimberly lifted it from her shoulders, she slid her arms
from the sleeves, and was now naked. She was also totally
"For your hair, madam," Kimberly explained as she handed Alicia
a pastel-green shower cap.
"Thank you." Alicia coiled and tucked her long,
raven-black hair under the cap.
"On your stomach, please, madam," Kimberly said as she hung
Alicia's robe on a clothing rack.
Alicia stepped out of her flip-flops and reclined on the
table. Gabby, also nude, was doing the same on the second
Repeatedly oiling her hands, for the next half hour Kimberly
gave Alicia a detailed and highly skilled deep tissue massage
from head to toe. Alicia was in heaven.
She'd received massages before, but this was different.
"Your fingers are magic, Kimberly," she sighed.
"Thank you, madam," Kimberly purred. "Have you had one of
our herbal wraps before?"
"No," Alicia whispered. Her eyes were closed, her body and
mind totally relaxed, and she was trying not to fall asleep.
"Our herbal paste is both hydrating and mildly exfoliating,"
Kimberly explained. "It's also very slightly
adhesive. I'm going to paint it onto your skin,
alternating layers of paste with layers of gauze, then wrap you
in a layer of linen. Once you're snug and warm, we'll
transfer you to one of our mud baths to soak."
"Okay," Alicia sighed. She opened her eyes and gazed at
Gabby. Her blond companion seemed to be asleep.
Alicia sighed, again. Probably a good idea.
Kimberly proceeded to do as she'd said. The paste was
green, the consistency of yogurt, and it had a subtle, pleasant
aroma. New mown grass, chopped fresh herbs, flowers, cedar
needles... in a word, herbal. Kimberly used a camelhair
brush to paint an area of Alicia's skin, drape a small panel of
gauze over the paste, then repeat the process. This
required a great deal of lifting and rolling of Alicia's limbs
and body, but Kimberly was strong for her size and had a gentle
touch. She knew what she was doing.
Eventually, every square inch of Alicia's body from the neck
down was wrapped in multiple layers of paste-impregnated
gauze. Her fingers and toes had been separated by
paste-soaked cotton before being wrapped, and her limbs were
wrapped separately. That is, nowhere was skin in contact
with skin. Arms at her sides and legs together, Alicia was
sure she resembled nothing so much as a slimy green Egyptian
mummy. Then, the green was covered and the mummy aspect
enhanced as Kimberly used long rolls of three-inch elastic
bandages to tightly wrap the entire length of her already
"One more layer, madam," Kimberly whispered in Alicia's ear.
Drifting in snug, warm, moist contentment, her eyes closed and
lips curled in a smile, all Alicia could do was mutter an
inarticulate, agreeable sound.
Still in a half-doze, Alicia realized Kimberly was pulling what
amounted to a cloth and net bag over her feet... up her legs...
and then up her body. It was natural linen, a lattice of
horizontal, vertical, and lateral cloth bands framing panels of
cord webbing. It was also something of a tight fit, but
Kimberly exhibited her strength and skill, again, by managing to
lift Alicia's legs or torso as required and tug the bag up to
Snug in her cocoon of herbs and linen, Alicia closed her eyes,
again, as Kimberly repeatedly tugged on a pair of cords running
through two long parallel rows of plastic eyelets running down
the front of the bag. The eyelets crept closer together
and the bag became a form-fitting shroud. Clearly, it was
designed to uniformly hug the human form.
"There," Kimberly purred as she tied a double bow, "snug and
secure. I'll be right back."
"Ummm," Alicia murmured, her eyes still closed.
About a minute later, Kimberly returned with a framework of
tubular steel on wheels. It straddled the table and
supported a cradle of nylon straps. Kimberly detached the
cradle, arranged it along Alicia's shrouded body, gently rolled
her body and tugged the webbing underneath, then clipped several
cables dangling from the frame to eyelets in the cradle.
She turned a crank on the side of the frame, the cables reeled
onto a hidden drum or drums, and Alicia was lifted into the air,
just enough to clear the table.
Her body horizontal and evenly supported by the web cradle and
cables, Alicia was wheeled away.
beginning to think the herbal sludge cocooning her body might
have sedative properties of some sort, but decided it was
probably just the aftermath of the deep massage and continuous
embrace of the warm, moist bandages. Her dangling journey
was very short, the destination a pavilion adjacent to "12
Instead of a pair of massage tables, there were two long, deep
troughs with sloping bottoms and lined with a very pleasant
earth-tone mix of tiles. A pillow was somehow affixed at
the top of each slope and several pairs of wide nylon straps
with plastic snap-buckles dangled from stainless steel fittings
arranged to form vaguely human-shaped outlines.
Gabby was already in one of the troughs and her masseuse, Megan,
was buckling and tugging tight the last of her straps.
They moved Gabby first, Alicia realized. I
guess I did take a nap.
Meanwhile, Megan had opened a tap and a soupy brown mud of some
sort was pouring into Gabby's trough. It was about the
consistency of pancake batter and the tap was large. As
Kimberly was lowering Alicia into the second trough, the mud had
already reached Gabby's heels and was creeping up to her
ankles. Then, the walls of the troughs intervened and all
Alicia could see was Gabby's serenely sleeping face and her
green shower cap.
Kimberly released and deftly removed the web cradle and Megan
rolled the frame away. The smiling blonde was about to
start deploying the straps when a melodious female voice
"That's alright, Kimberly," the unknown woman said. "I'll
take care of our guest."
"Yes, Mistress," Kimberly replied, smiled at Alicia, then
Kimberly's place was taken by a very beautiful, very healthy
woman in exercise togs: running tights, a jacket zipped down to
her waist, and a sports bra. The dark-tan and willow-green
panels and stripes of the garments accentuated the woman's
athletic, decidedly feminine, and perfectly proportioned
physique. Her full breasts straining at the jacket and
bra, with symmetrical, round features, piercing blue eyes, and
long dark curls pulled back in a ponytail—the woman was
"I'm Lynda Ramsey," the newcomer introduced herself. "I
own The Willows."
"Pleased to meet you," Alicia purred. "Alicia
Riolobos. I'd offer to shake hands, but..."
Lynda smiled. "Yes, at the moment that would be quite
impossible." Kimberly had placed a deck chair near the
head of Alicia's trough, and Lynda sat. "Kimberly, be a
dear and fetch us a couple of Havana Coolers, would you please?"
"Of course, Mistress," Kimberly replied, turned, and left.
Megan smiled and gave Alicia a friendly wave, then followed her
Lynda was gazing at Alicia's sheath, and her smile had
faded. "Hmm..." She left the chair, leaned over the
trough and began tugging on the laces securing the cloth and
cord net sheath, removing slack—not that there had been anything
Alicia would have called slack to begin with. Working her
way up Alicia's wrapped and encased body, she succeeded in
producing an additional inch or two of free end in the laces,
released and retied the double-bow, then started on the
straps. She clicked each buckle closed, pulled the slack
from the strap, and pinned Alicia's mummified and encased body
in place at the ankles, above and below her knees, her thighs,
waist, and above and below her breasts. "The straps make
sure you don't slip under the mud," Lynda explained as she went
back over the straps and removed what little slack she'd
"That's tight," Alicia noted. The straps were dimpling the
sheath, just a little.
"Safety first," Lynda chuckled as she turned the tap of Alicia's
trough and started the mud flowing. She then returned to
the deck chair, sat, and gracefully crossed her Lycra-clad
legs. "Now," she said with a smile, "Sleeping Beauty over
there—" Lynda nodded towards Gabby. "—tells me
you're a lawyer at Miles, Moody, Mori, and Binite."
"A junior partner," Alicia confirmed, "in the corporate
division." The mud had engulfed her feet and was creeping
up the incline. She could feel no change in the submerged
area. The wrappings were already wet and the sheath
tight. The mud must either be body temperature or close
enough that it would take time for her to feel the difference.
"Don't worry," Lynda purred. "There's an automatic shutoff
valve. The mud will stop before it reaches your
chin. Shakespeare may have famously written, 'The first
thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers,' but I find it's bad
for business. I won't let you drown."
"Thank you," Alicia chuckled. "And that quote is why Henry
the Fourth, Part Two is my least favorite
of the history plays."
"Understandable," Lynda said with a smile. "Ah, our
Kimberly returned to the pavilion with a tray with two mixed
drinks. She expertly placed the tray on a small table,
then carried the table to Lynda's side.
"Thank you, Kim," Lynda purred, kissing Kimberly's dimpled cheek
as she handed her a drink. Lynda then leaned close and
held the drink so Alicia could capture the straw with her
smiling lips and take a sip.
"Delicious," Alicia sighed. "Thank you, Kimberly."
Lynda took a sip of the second drink, then smiled at her blond
employee. "Please inform Chef that Ms. Riolobos and Ms.
Hanson will be dining with me tonight, and you'll be joining
us. You can lead our guests to my apartments at..."
She smiled at Alicia. "Six?"
Alicia would have shrugged, had it been possible. "We're
in your hands," she said.
Lynda smiled. "Yes, you are," she purred, "and my mud."
As promised, the mud stopped rising an inch below Alicia's chin,
leaving her completely immersed from the neck down.