Grooming

Mark delivered Nikki to the spa to be groomed, prepared for her date. It was a full service salon, and they would take care of everything from her toenails to her hair. Nikki was used to this kind of preparation from her former life – she used to attend company functions, charity balls, or social functions at some of the nicest hotels and restaurants in the world. And she always liked to have her hair and her nails done before hand. And she used to have a favorite salon where she would get her legs waxed, or during the summer, a bikini wax. This was different. Here, the care was somehow less about her and more about what she was; a slave.

Nikki had her own “groomer” – for the last six weeks this woman had taken care of Nikki’s body, washed her hair, smoothed her skin, primped her. The groomer was an ageless Asian woman; she could have been 40 or she could have been 60, it was impossible to know. She never smiled, but her neat compact appearance reflected the perfectionism of her approach to her work. Nikki had never been formally introduced to her, after all, this wasn’t about Nikki as a person, it was about what Mark wanted for his property. But it seemed that her name was Tran. Some of the other women in the salon called her Tranni. Mark called her Tran.

Mark smiled warmly at Tran and then launched into her language -- Nikki couldn’t understand it at all. The harsh vowels and nasal consonants sounded like Vietnamese or Cambodian. But the only things Nikki could understand were the occasional English word interjected. She heard “Charles Tilton” and “Four Seasons” and “Cocktail Dress”. It never failed to amaze her when Mark spoke in other languages, he had to speak at least 10, it was incredible.

She kneeled at Mark’s side, listening to the two of them talk, knowing they were discussing her; her needs, her appearance, what he wanted done to her, but not being able to understand it at all. She felt child like, objectified, a puppet or a doll. Important, but not sentient. Her goals, thoughts, opinions, were immaterial, between the two of them, Mark and Tran would make all the decisions for her. Tran would take care of her, but not for her, for Mark and for whoever this man was, Charles Tilton, the man she was going to meet tonight.

Mark leaned over and stroked her head. “I’m leaving now, my girl. You be good and obey Tran. I’ll be back for you later.” Nikki felt his words penetrate her, opening her, warm – she was his girl, she knew it. And she knew she would be good. That she would obey. And she would make him proud. She felt his command of her deep in her sex, like a warm presence inside her, Felt her body respond, her back arch slightly as she moved into his hand on her head, she looked up at him, knowing he could read her desire, see her love. “Yes, my girl. Feel it. You are owned.” She felt the words, tingles traveling up her legs. “Now I must go.”

Nikki watched Mark leave. Yearning for him, wishing she could just follow on her knees, content to be led by her leash. But knowing he wanted her to stay and she was satisfying his desire. She would do what he wanted her to do.

Suddenly she felt a sharp tug at her neck and realized that Tran had yanked her chain. She needed to focus, needed to pay attention. Tran required that she be fully present in the moment, that much she had learned, so she needed to get her mind off Mark and back in the here and now. Even though Tran was there to groom Nikki, she was “above” Nikki. She could do what she wanted to Nikki and Nikki had to obey.

They were alone, the two of them, in the middle of the large room that served as the reception area and waiting room. There were small treatment rooms off this room, and it was relatively unique for them to be alone here.

Tran had grabbed Nikki’s right hand, and was placing a thick nylon strap around her right wrist. And now she was putting another one on Nikki’s left. As she felt the straps go taught, Nikki realized they were attached to a pulley system on the ceiling and she was being hoisted to her feet. Her hands were pulled up over her head. And Tran was holding her ankles apart, inserting a long stick with two curved pieces of wood at each end, one for each ankle, preventing her from closing her legs. Her body was spread like on a cross, but her weight still resting on her feet. She felt her spine get longer, her stomach tighten in, her breasts shaking.

Tran was talking to her, in Vietnamese or Cambodian or whatever language it was. Soothing words, like you would say to a small animal you were trying to coax into a cage. But Nikki knew this was an inspection. Tran looked at her face. Smoothed down her eyebrows. Inspected her ears. Felt the glands under her chin. Moved her head back and forth between her hands, testing flexibility. Tran called out, loud and kind of harsh, and another woman came in. They talked for a moment, again, Nikki felt the strange sensation of being discussed in a language she didn’t understand. Childlike. Objectified. She felt the other woman’s eyes on her.

Now Tran was looking at her arms, her underarms. Rubbing her thumbs against the tender flesh of Nikki’s armpits. Nikki felt the touch deep inside her, as if Tran’s thumbs had traveled into her body and were massaging her uterus. Tran was pulling at the hairs under Nikki’s arms – it was strangely embarrassing – certainly normal functioning of her body, hair growing, doing what it was supposed to, but still embarrassing. Oh! And now Tran was examining Nikki’s breasts. She had her left hand under Nikki’s right breast, lifting it, cupping it, and her right hand was examining the nipple.

Nikki struggled to stay perfectly still. Not try to pull away. Not resist this. It was Tran’s right to probe and touch. This would NEVER have happened in Nikki’s old life. Ha! When she went to have spa services performed, to be groomed, they were performed respectfully and with deference. But now this woman had every liberty. She could touch Nikki however she wanted. And touch she did. Tran squeezed Nikki’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Nikki could feel her body react, her arousal build. A moan escaping from her lips.

“Shhhhh” Tran hushed Nikki, putting her finger to her own lips. And then squeezing Nikki’s lips shut. It was clear Nikki was supposed to be silent. Nikki was humiliated. Not only was this woman, this Asian salon worker, touching her, she was making Nikki aroused. and she was correcting Nikki for being too overt in her reaction. She, a woman who didn’t even speak English, was correcting Nikki. And Nikki realized that that was how it should be. Everything she had done in her old life, all her snobby behavior, her sense of superiority because of her education, her job, her money, it was all irrelevant here. Here she was just a slave, and the lowest person on the ranking. The bottom. All she had to do was be.

Now Tran had captured Nikki’s other breast. Was teasing the nipple. She was inspecting it closely, looking for hairs, or dry skin, or discoloration. But she was also playing a little. Nikki could tell. Testing Nikki. Seeing what her reaction was going to be. Now she was rhythmically squeezing the nipple, making it longer, longer still. Squeezing, squeezing. Nikki’s struggled to keep her hips still, feeling the moisture surge, and feeling the desire to rub herself against something, anything.

Tran lifted Nikki’s chin, and looked Nikki in the eye. At the same time she continued to squeeze Nikki’s nipple, stroking her hip and her ass with the other hand. Nikki’s struggled to focus her eyes. To keep control of her self. To acknowledge Tran’s gaze and look respectful. But now Tran was continuing her inspection. Feeling the texture of Nikki’s skin. Looking at the dark spots, Making little approving noises ass she felt the muscles in Nikki’s back, her ass. Then she was spreading the cheeks of Nikki’s ass.

Ohhh! Nikki felt even more humiliated. Acutely aware of her status as a slave. Unable to prevent even this most intimate of examinations. She felt Tran’s fingers spreading her. And then, gasp, entering her! Tran made an approving noise, finding her clean, and Nikki was glad for Mark’s early morning attention to her rectum. She was strangely proud that Tran was finding her clean, and was pleased. Proud that she had made this woman approve of her.

But now Tran was looking at Nikki’s pussy. And making “tsk, tsk, tsk” – disapproving noises. Oh, she must be able to see, to smell, the cum still oozing from her – the remainder of the slave boy from the hallway. She must know. She had dipped her fingers into the slimy ooze and was holding them to her nose. Making a little disgusted noise. She knew what a wonton, undisciplined slave Nikki was. Knew that Nikki had been used, and recently. Tran was talking to the other woman, and she giggled.

Nikki couldn’t tell what they were saying, but she knew they were talking about her. About her sex. She felt another wave of realization of her status, her position. She was pure sex. Nothing but sex. Valued for this, yes, but reduced to it, too. And she was offered up, offered to everyone. From this mysterious man she was having dinner with, to this impenetrable woman, here to provide service, but still able to touch her, talk about her, do to her whatever she wanted. Nikki felt powerless, low, humbled. And it felt good to her. Relaxing. Certainly, there was no ambiguity about what was expected of her.

Trans hands continued to touch and probe. Nikki let the sensations wash over her as Tran looked at the hair on her legs, her pussy, her feet. Touched her thighs, her calves. Separated her labia. Looked everywhere. And noticed everything. Noticed the effect that her touch had on Nikki. Noticed the arousal. The flush on Nikki’s skin. The fresh wetness between her legs.

And then it was over. Tran was letting her down. Pushing her to her hands and knees. Arranging her. And then patting her on the head. It was a clear “stay” command – like you would give to a dog. Even without language, Nikki could obey.

“Hungry, girl?” Tran’s accent made the question sound like “hungly” not “hungry” but it was clear.

Nikki looked up. “Yes, Ma’am” She tried to answer in the most respectful voice she could muster. And actually, she realized, she hadn’t eaten since the scraps from Mark’s dinner the night before. Her last real meal had been while she was preparing dinner for Mark, it must have been 16 hours ago. Her stomach rumbled.

Tran said something to her assistant. And in a moment she was back with a large shallow bowl that she put on the floor.

Nikki eagerly moved forward and leaned towards the bowl. It was filled with a kind of beige gruel, it was hard to see what was in it. There was clearly some oatmeal. And it looked like soy protein nuggets. And maybe pieces of tofu. Nikki was so hungry she didn’t really care. At least it was probably really healthy. She reached her hand forward to pick the bowl up, and Tran was on her in a second. Screaming at her in Vietnamese. Nikki couldn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear. She wasn’t to use her hands.

She moved her face down into the bowl, hungry enough to eat like an animal on the floor. Whatever it took. She pushed her face closer to the food and opened her mouth. Got a mouthful. It was cold. From the refrigerator cold. And the base was definitely olive oil. Oooh. It was kind of gross. Well more than kind of. Slimy, cold, congealed, soggy. Gross. But Nikki knew she had to eat it. And eat it all. It was all she was going to get. And it would make Mark happy if she was good and did everything as she was asked. So she moved her face closer and took another bite and another.

Suddenly her head was being ripped up. Tran screaming at her again. A wall of sound coming at her, high pitched and violent. Tran was furious, and the words were like blows raining down on her. And this time she didn’t know what it was about. Didn’t know what she had done wrong. She had obeyed. Wasn’t eating with her hands. Had put her face into the bowl, had stuck her ass up in the air. Had acted like the little animal she was. What was wrong?

Tran was pulling her hair, yelling right into her face.

“Bad girl! Bad!” Well, that much she could tell from the Vietnamese. Tran didn’t need to try English if that was going to be what she was going to say. Nikki tried to look as contrite and obedient as she could while she waited to find out what was wrong. She called on all the skills she had gained in the business world – when senior managers were upset, stay calm. So she stayed calm, even as this woman, the kind of woman she might have yelled at herself in her old life, yelled at her.

“Girl eat with mouth! Not face! Dirty! Dirty girl!” Now Tran was pulling Nikki across the floor, half dragging her, half pushing. “Look!” It sounded like “rook” But Nikki gazed at her reflection in the big mirror. She saw herself and was overcome with the shock – this wasn’t Nikki the professional. Nikki the educated, worldly woman. This was Nikki the slave. Naked. Collared. Leash hanging down. Breasts shaking with each breath. Eyes wide, open, ready, a little scared. Posture submissive in every detail. She could see her desire to please. The food from the bowl on her face. Her submission so obvious, so lovely, but amazing. Submitting to Tran, to the slave in the hallway, to the men Mark presented her to. Submitting to any and all.

“Look!” Tran took a towel from a nearby shelf and wiped Nikki’s face. She showed Nikki the towel, pieces of food stuck too it. “Look!” Tran’s small body was vibrating with anger. “You dirty girl!” She took a hair brush from the same shelf. And she pushed Nikki’s head down to the floor.

Nikki felt her ass up in the air. Knew what it looked like, her sex hanging down, her thighs spread. Her ass cheeks round, taut. And she heard the hairbrush before she felt it. Then she felt it. Hard. Slamming down into her ass. The resounding “crack” as the plastic met her flesh. She felt the sharp point of impact, but then felt the heat of the blood rushing in, but before that feeling was complete, there was a second “crack” and the brush hit a second time, slightly lower. Now a third, a forth, a fifth, sixth, seventh. The pain wasn’t terrible, the brush wasn’t that long or that big, but Tran was surprisingly strong and the blows just kept coming. She could feel the heat. And now Tran was moving to do the other side. One hand on the base of her back, the other slamming the brush down again and again.

Tran deposited 10 blows on each cheek before she stopped. Nikki kept her head low. Her ass high. She breathed deeply and tried to keep from sobbing. It wasn’t the pain. The pain really wasn’t overwhelming. It was more of a glow than anything else. She could feel the blood flowing to the spot where each blow had landed. Could feel the center of the pain and the swelling radiating from that. But not too bad. It was the surprise and the humiliation. The fact that she had done something wrong, something that deserved such punishment. She really wanted to be good, tried to be good. And she had failed. She had been judged wanting by this woman, this salon worker. Now her ass was an emblem of that failure.

Her ass felt huge. She knew it must be red, too. Could easily imagine the way it looked, the center of each blow almost white, and then dark red around the edges. The blows overlapping, the entire ass red, flaming. Anybody who saw her would know she had been punished.

“What you say, girl?” Tran’s voice was insistent as she pulled Nikki up to kneel facing her.

Nikki stammered “Thank you Ma’am. I will do better Ma’am. Please!” Nikki looked the older woman in the eye and tried to communicate her honest contrition. Her shame. Her desperate desire to please. Tried to communicate her acknowledgement of her lowly position.

“You stay clean.” Tran left Nikki in the center of the room as she went to a cabinet and pulled out a small square of light blue silk. It had a hole in the middle and Tran put it over Nikki’s face, attaching it with elastics that had alligator clips on each end. Even the smallest touch of food would make a huge stain on the silk. Nikki was going to have to be incredibly careful not to get the silk wet or dirty. Tran took Nikki’s hands and clasped them behind her back. Pushed her hands together so that Nikki was holding them behind her back herself.

Oh, this was going to be hard! Not even having her hands for support. Tran led Nikki back to the bowl and Nikki leaned over, her stomach muscles straining to suspend her face right over the food, not too close, but close enough that she could reach her tongue out and get a small glob of food on the end of it. This was going to take forever. Nikki could feel all her muscles working as she licked up the food, like a cat lapping milk. All this effort and the food was disgusting to boot! But there was nothing else to do. She had to continue.

Nikki lapped and lapped, her muscles screaming, wanting to let go of her hands, wanting to just stick her face in it, but making slow progress. Lapping. Feeling her red ass in the air. Hearing the two Vietnamese women chatting, incomprehensibly. Feeling her thighs and her ass, her stomach working. Lapping. Tasting the cold congealed food. Feeling it slide down into her belly. Feeling her position as a slave. Feeling her submission.

Finally she cleaned the bowl, completely. Ran her tongue around one more time to make sure that she had left nothing. And then sat back on her heels, her hands still clasped (now painfully) behind her back. Tran came over to her, unclipped the cloth and examined it. It was pristine. She held it to the light. But there wasn’t a spot on it. Nikki felt the pride swell in her chest. She had done it!

“Good girl! Clean!” Tran praised her. And the praise washed over her, warm and wonderful. She had been given a difficult task and she had done it!! Tran was talking to her now in Vietnamese, softly, obviously pleased with her. Was stroking her hair. She felt so successful. Amazing really. Something so basic and so simple, but it appealed to her at a very elemental level, a challenge made and met. She couldn’t believe how pleased she was to have pleased Tran. How much joy it gave her to complete this task.

Tran held a large cup of water to Nikki’s lips, letting her drink. She held it there until it was empty, Nikki swallowing steadily as the older woman poured the water into her mouth. Nikki felt like a baby being fed from a bottle, warm and cared for, but without choice.

Now Tran was pulling her by the leash. And Nikki followed. It didn’t matter where they were going, it was her job to follow.

Tran took Nikki into one of the treatment rooms. There was a long examination table, and an armchair. Nikki looked expectantly at the table, but was all the more surprised when Tran started to remove her own pants. This was new. But now Tran was naked from the waist, and was sitting in the chair, pulling Nikki by the leash to her open legs.

It was clear what Tran expected. She didn’t need to speak. She just took Nikki’s head in her hands and guided Nikki’s face to her crotch. And Nikki knew she had no choice. She was a slave. She was there to serve everyone, even a woman who’s job it was to serve her needs, to clean her to groom her. Even such a woman as that could demand that Nikki service her. And was demanding it. Nikki felt her submission, felt her position, and felt her pride in being a good slave. She was going to do a good job. She knew she was.

And it wasn’t too difficult. The Asian woman’s legs were like alabaster. So smooth and pale. Petite. Firm. Lovely really. And her pussy! Oh my! Totally bare, not a single hair on it. Smooth, plump, rounded. But now that the labia were parted, and it was open, the pink delicate insides were visible. It looked soft and pretty, glistening slightly with moisture.

The smell hit Nikki all at once. Strong. Exotic. So womanly. It was an earthy smell, musky, dank. Different than Nikki’s own smell, it had a kind of spicy overtone to it. Compelling. It definitely made Nikki want to bury her head in it. Tran’s hands were guiding her head toward the exposed sex anyway, she didn’t have a choice. She had to do what she wanted to do anyway. Ahh, the benefits of being a slave.

The first touch of her tongue to the soft, warm, moist sex was electric. The taste even more intense than the smell. Sweet/salty, with a hint of musk, slippery mucousy texture. Nikki took a long swipe with her tongue, flat, starting at the bottom, close to Tran’s anus, but then traveling up along the plump lips to the little nubbin of her clitoris. She felt Tran’s response, her legs opening wider, hands pressing against the back of Nikki’s head.

Then Nikki started to really explore the sex in front of her. She ran her tongue back down and around the opening of Tran’s vagina, traced the edges of the lips, moved her head from side to side to get in deeper. She used her hands to support her body, putting one hand on either side of Tran’s ass. The taste seemed to fill her, floating up into her sinuses, connecting to her own arousal. She felt her body moving with each stroke of her tongue; her head, neck, back, hips, thighs, all connected to her tongue and connected to Tran’s sex. She opened her mouth as wide as she could to envelope Tran’s sex with the warmth of her mouth. She rubbed her tongue back and forth over Tran’s clit.

Nikki could hear Tran’s voice, her moans quiet but continuous. Tran was moving her hips, grinding her sex into Nikki’s mouth. She was rotating now, pushing and moaning. Nikki could feel the intensity growing. She made her tongue as hard and pointy as possible and thrust it deep into Tran’s vagina. Started to thrust rhythmically in time to Tran’s movements. The taste was now part of her, moisture all over her mouth, chin, nose, cheeks. She felt Tran’s juices coating her. And her tongue was touching deep and then sliding back over the slick tissues.

Nikki moved her head up and sucked Trans’s clit into her mouth. Pulling hard from the back of her throat, and moving her tongue to really build the sensation for Tran. She felt the blood pulsing in Tran’s clit, the flesh engorged and full. She could hear Tran’s breathing change and knew she was close. She wanted to show Tran what she could do, wanted to give her pleasure. Nikki moved her right hand over and pushed two fingers into Tran’s vagina as she continued to rub her tongue on Tran’s clit.

Nikki could feel Tran’s cunt convulse as she went over the edge. Tran pushed her hips up and cried out. Nikki felt a spasm and then a wet rush as a flood of cum flowed from deep inside Tran. Nikki lapped and licked to take it all, carefully and gently cleaning all the folds aware of how sensitive the nerves were after orgasm. The flavor was rich and deep, delicious, female, and oh, so, sexy.

Tran slowly pushed Nikki’s head back, smiling down on her. “Good girl.” The words were softly spoken, but they meant so much to Nikki. She was so happy to please. She felt a soft warmth infuse her. She was good at this, a good slave. A pleaser. Always willing, eager, happy.

Tran was getting dressed again. She pulled Nikki’s leash to indicate she should get up on the table.

Nikki lay on the table, feeling the contours of it pressing comfortably against the backs of her knees, the small of her back, her neck, supporting her, cradling her. Her legs were slightly spread, her arms at her sides, she could feel her breasts spread, gravity working on them, she could feel her body relax into the table, could feel her muscles, sore from holding herself still to lap up her breakfast, lap at Tran’s sex, and from the scene in the hallway too.

Nikki heard Tran moving around and then felt a warm blanket spread over her. Mmmmm, felt so good. Tran was standing over her, smoothing the hair back from her face. Cleaning the pussy juice from her with a cotton ball and cleanser. Smoothing down her eyebrows, Tracing the contours of her cheek bones. Tran laid warm a warm washcloth over Nikki’s face. Nikki could feel the steam and warmth penetrating the pores. It was like returning to the womb, dark, warm, wet, and very maternal. She felt cared for in an elemental way.

Nikki must have drifted off. She woke to the feeling of Tran and her assistant peeling the blankets off, and rubbing her skin with powder. Rubbing her legs, then spreading them and rubbing the talcum between her legs, all over her pubis, then under her arms, and even a little on her face, her eyebrows, and above her lip.

Then it was time for waxing. No words were spoken but the two women worked in perfect harmony.