The week passed in a whirlwind, with no specific text instructions regarding attire. I adorned myself with garter belts, each with matching bras, panties, and stockings. I carefully selected heels that matched my feisty mood. Unless I had a video call at work, I wore nothing else, keeping his buttoned shirt near me in case I did get a surprise call.
A message arrived from John, Ben’s associate and best friend, informing me of his visit after lunchtime Friday. I promptly updated my work calendar, ensuring I would be unavailable for the latter half of the day. My position allowed me to flex my hours and days off as long as my work didn’t suffer.
I swung by the salon Wednesday after work to get my hair trimmed and colored. My hair was thick and wild, so it took over an hour to tame the loose curls and get me back to the deep burgundy I preferred.
Thursday after work, I went for a manicure and pedicure. I decided on a French ombré design on my nails and painted my toes a clean, crisp white. My favorite technician was off, so I had to remember to ask to keep my nails neatly trimmed as I didn’t like them to get long.
Finally, Friday rolled around—the day I’d been eagerly waiting for. I was out of bed and showering before the first alarm went off. I wanted to leave right then to start the weekend. However, I had to make it through my appointment with John before I made the two-hour drive to see Ben.
I usually saw John every Saturday, so you would think seeing someone that often, you would be comfortable with them. Still, something about him made me feel a little uneasy, even though he seemed like a nice guy and had never given me a reason to feel unsure around him.
John was shorter than me; maybe 5’6”? He had no hair making me wonder if he was bald or preferred having no hair and shaving it all off. His most distinguishing feature was his bulging muscles and thick neck, which gave him a bulldog look. I’ve never met someone so physically intimidating and have such a brooding manner. On top of looking like someone that could rip you in two and barely break a sweat, John didn’t talk; it had something to do with when he was a kid. If Ben knew more details, he didn’t share them with me, and John certainly wasn’t.
Ben shared with me that they had been tight since they were teenagers. Their friendship started when Ben stood up for John against some bullies. They ended up being roommates in college and had each other’s backs no matter what. So, when Ben said I should trust John with my safety, I knew he meant it. But I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening behind John’s eyes. What had he been through that made him shut himself off like that? The curiosity ate at me and made me feel sorry for him.
I had been learning ASL (American Sign Language) since we first met to communicate better, but just like normal talking, he didn’t like to sign either. He preferred to be silent, using ASL only when he had to.
While pondering about John, I heard the front door swing open a few minutes earlier than anticipated, signaling John’s arrival. I continued my work, knowing he needed to set up his equipment. Ben had given him the spare key I had made for him when we embarked on our Dom/sub relationship. With each trip John makes in, and out of the house, I catch glimpses of him as he meticulously arranges everything.
After a while, I glance over and find John settled on the couch, patiently waiting for me. His presence fills the room, a dark cloud that refuses to rain, holding everything in.
Setting aside my work and logging out for the day, I go to the bedroom. I swiftly discard the gold lingerie I had been wearing, replacing it with a short silk robe. With purposeful steps, I approach the massage table that John has set up, fully aware that its purpose extends beyond mere massages.
John walks over to me and removes a key from his pocket to unlock my chastity belt. It’s a ritual we’ve become familiar with. I stopped feeling bashful standing fully naked in front of him a long time ago because, for John, it’s pure business. I debate some visits if he even sees me as a woman as he treats me like an object that he must make shiny for Ben.
As per our regular weekend meetings when Ben is out of town, John has been tasked with maintaining my waxed appearance, ensuring no strand of hair remains. He meticulously removes any trace of body hair from my ankles to my underarms, leaving me completely smooth. This included a full Brazilian wax, both front and back, a request that aligns with Ben’s preference for a hairless canvas. While Ben chooses to remain ignorant of my limited hair, John diligently attends to its removal.
John finished the last strip and did an excellent job; it no longer hurts when he pulls the wax and hair from me, even in the most delicate areas. While he removes the tiny hairs from my backside, I start dreading what happens next, as it’s my least favorite part of the session.
Thankfully the next event only occurs when Ben is in town, as his desire for thorough cleanliness encompasses every aspect of me, so I follow John to the bedroom, knowing what awaits me.
Sitting in the middle of the room was a custom-made saw horse with adjustable resting places for arms and knees. I walk over with only the robe on and position myself there, bending over and resting my arms and knees on the padded wood. Its adjustable features allow for various positions; its current setup is to put my ass high in the air while my head is at the lowest point. Looking down at myself, I see the attachment points for ropes or chains that would not be needed now. Perhaps later tonight with Ben?
John comes closer, applying a bit of lube to my exposed anus. With slow and deliberate movements, he inserts the inflatable butt plug equipped with a tube. This gadget allows the liquid to fill my rectum, which he then seals off by capping the line and inflating the plug to ensure nothing leaks. As the liquid starts flowing inside me, reaching deeper than it would if I were lying flat, a wave of intense fullness engulfs me. John gives the plug a few squeezes, making the sensation even more intense.
To let me know when he’ll remove the plug, John signals with an open palm, indicating it’ll be in five minutes. I hold onto the sawhorse tightly as cramps ripple through my body. Sweat beads on my forehead as the urgent need to release the liquid builds up. Just as the moment becomes almost unbearable, John reenters the room and deflates the plug, helping me up so I can rush to the toilet.
I have no control over the liquid gushing out, and I’m grateful that John respects my privacy by leaving the room. After everything is expelled, John returns, showing three fingers, a clear sign that we’ll repeat this process three more times. Ben wants to make sure I’m squeaky clean after my earlier disobedience. We typically repeat one additional time, maybe three, but it was rare.
We went through the process repeatedly, adding five minutes to each round. As we reached the final session, it felt like John gave the inflatable plug a few extra pumps, stretching me beyond my usual limit. Lying there, enduring the cramps and feeling the intense pressure within me, a strange mix of discomfort and arousal washed over me. The sensations seemed to blend, creating an unexpectedly erotic experience.
Just as the feelings peaked, the full twenty minutes elapsed, and John helped me up, guiding me back to the toilet. Unlike before, he stayed in the room this time, attentively observing to ensure that only clear liquid was expelled. If any concerns arose, we would have needed to repeat the process. Thankfully, the liquid remained clear, indicating everything was as it should be.
While I was finishing with the loo, John finished filling the water in the jacuzzi tub so I could take a bath. He added a touch of rose water and lit some candles I already had around the room. Before heading out, he swapped my chastity belt for a new one ensuring the lock was firmly secured. This one had two chain straps that ran from the front, went between my legs, and hooked onto the back of the belt, ensuring it stayed in place. With everything set, John finished packing up while I sank into the warm water, letting my tension melt away.
I luxuriated in the tub, running my hands along my silky, hairless legs and arms, admiring the smoothness achieved through the waxing session. Laying back in the darkened room with only the candles for light felt tranquil and the perfect way to end the week and start the weekend. Feeling fully relaxed, I glanced at the clock; reality hit me—I had lost track of time. With a nearly two-hour drive ahead, I knew I needed to get a move on if I was to get to Ben’s house by 6 pm.
