I’m a masochist. I get off on pain, but not all pain. For me, there has to be some sort of sexual overtone already for me to turn pain into pleasure. Without that I am just a person that can tolerate a lot of pain, not enjoying it, but submitting to it knowing all pain will pass.
Recently I decided to get a Brazilian wax for the first time and I knew it was going to hurt. I decided I might as well put that pain to good use, but since Sir wasn’t there to give me those sexual overtones, mindfuck me, I would have to do it myself.
I always mindfuck myself. I can’t help it. I wonder, worry, imagine about upcoming events and in runaway mode, those thoughts can affect me physically (nervous, nauseous). I have been getting better at controlling the runaway thoughts, guiding them. I can then just watch my own movie in my mind and almost get off without even a touch. Mental masturbation. This also affects me physically (soaked, panting), so it’s best done alone or even better with a partner, or two, or more… A touch then always sets me off.
Now I was going to do this to myself. Mental masturbation. In public. With an unwitting stranger touching my pussy and providing pain. I was going to try to get off, and I could not let it show at all. An interesting challenge to myself. Could I do it, or would I chicken out? Even I didn’t know.
With this sadistic task to myself, I drove to the nearest waxing salon. Before I went in, I smoked a hit of weed. Oh, relax. No one would fault me for stopping for a beer first. I went in and settled into a cozy armchair to wait. I let my mind begin to wander, not knowing where it would take me.
I was going to let a stranger touch my pussy. And rip all the hair out. I was giving myself an early anniversary present, but the first sexual unveiling of my waxed pussy would be in two days to Sir’s friends. They were strangers to me as well. But I was going to let them do far more than just touch my pussy.
A shiver ran through me. With that little connection made in my mind, I started to steer the direction of my thoughts. Now this wasn’t a waxing, this was being prepared for these men. To better serve Sir. Suddenly everything became sexual. Soon someone I hadn’t even seen yet was going to put me on a table and hurt me. For Him.
I grinned a slutty grin and let my mind play with that idea for a while. I squirmed in the chair. I still could. Soon, though, I would be forced to be completely still. Completely passive. Helpless. I squirmed again. I was enjoying where my brain was taking me. My cunt was soaked. They called me.
All of a sudden my mental movie froze. I froze. I had to pull my brain back to public mode, and fast. I grabbed my purse and walked in to the divided area. There was a door, but the top part of the walls weren’t there, so I can’t call it a room. There was a young, beautiful Asian woman there and she closed the door behind me. I was still trying to focus myself in order to have an intelligent conversation, so I bought some time removing my jacket and placing it under the table with my purse. I also removed my jeans, discretely wiping my pussy as I did so my arousal would not be so obvious. I almost laughed at the fact that removing my pants in front of strangers doesn’t bother me at all anymore. I hopped up on the table, hoping it looked as if I had done this before, and she started to talk. We agreed on the procedure and the price, and I lay back to relax.
I closed my eyes. I focused back on my mental images. I focused on my breathing. She touched me. She stoked my hair, determining it’s direction. Her hand felt soft. She kept talking. She blew on my skin. That made me flinch. I was not expecting her mouth to be so close. She laughed and said something and did it again. Then I felt the wax, warm, sensual, sexual, spread on and her hands rubbing the strip on. She kept talking. To me. Trying to draw me into some stupid conversation. I ignored her, fought to stay in my mind.
Shut up already! You’re about to hurt me, and I want to enjoy it. I do not want to talk about the weather!
I remained silent, still. Waited. And then I felt the pain. I did not flinch. I did not cry out. I grinned. Oh yes, I was going to get off on this. She massaged the abused flesh. A very nice touch that worked itself well into the porn version playing internally.
She kept talking. My movie froze again. I just about screamed. In fact there were several mundane conversations happening a few feet away. Other customers and employees babbling endlessly. She started stroking me again. I felt her breath. I reached down and stopped her.
“Wait.” I said. “I want some music. And I don’t want to talk. I just want to meditate while you do this.” I reached down, opened Pandora on my phone, lay back to relax, and covered my eyes. ‘Meditate’ seemed an appropriate word. Focus. Trance. Self-hypnosis. Flying. She didn’t respond. I focused on my breathing. A moment later I felt the soft touch of her hands, and she began again.
I had three goals. To not move, to not make noise, and to keep my breathing regular. Anything else would give me away, let this stranger know I was using her sexually, tell the people outside I was cuming. I know people flinch and make noise while being waxed, but there is a difference between ‘Ow that hurts!’ and ‘Oh, yes! Hurt me more!’ I am generally not quiet, and sound like the latter. Even if I could be still and silent, my facial expressions alone would give me away. Those would be the hardest to prevent. I hoped I could do it.
I felt the wax. I wanted to moan and shudder. *breathe* She rubbed the strip on, stretched the skin taught, and yanked. *breathe* I remained still. In my mind, I relished the burn, the sting, the fire my skin was feeling. *breathe* The pain spread out, warmed me, passed through me. *breathe* I felt her fingers again, the cool breeze, and the wax. *breathe* The pain would get worse I knew as she worked her way in to more sensitive areas. So could the pleasure. *breathe* I felt the beginnings of the endorphins creeping into my blood stream. My pussy began to drip. My movie started up again.
I was being prepared for two strangers by a stranger. I was mentally bound to the table. I could not betray myself. The sensations continued. Her gentle hands felt like pet’s. The ripping of the wax soon translated into pleasure. I imagined floggers and whips. The firmer grips when she pulled my skin or moved my legs became the strangers examining me roughly before using me. My mental porn had become three different movies playing at the same time.
It became harder to control my breathing. I began to lose focus as I realized how close I was. Suddenly the most painful strip yet was yanked off. I arched off the table and groaned. She chuckled. To me it seemed sadistically. I hadn’t cum, but was it possible I had given myself away? I focused on my breathing again. She massaged the screaming skin. *breathe* I knew the next one would be as painful, if not worse. I stilled. I kept my face as relaxed as possible. I detached myself from what she was doing to me. *breathe* She pulled again. I came from the pain, motionless, silent, and helpless to stop it. She continued.
Once I started to cum, I couldn’t stop it. Any flinches or muscle tremors *could* have been from the pain. The images in my mind began again. Her fingertip brushed against my clit. It had to have been an accident, but it triggered another orgasm. She was working in much further now. I would need to control myself. *breathe* In my mind I soared from the pleasure and pain. She kept going. So did I.
She began to tweeze stray hairs. It became pinches and bites to me. My breathing became ragged.
Without warning I felt a rough towel rubbing my pussy. I was so wet she had to sop up my juices. Then she applied hot wax directly above my clit. The most sensitive pull of all. With no gentle stroking she pressed the cloth on and pulled the skin taut. Her thumb was pressed directly and firmly onto my clit. I bit my hand. She yanked and my entire body jumped off the table. Her thumb remained and I came hard. I exhaled all of my breath is ecstasy but did not make a sound. I could only hope my face hadn’t given me away.
She didn’t mean to make me cum after all. She probably didn’t even realize her thumb was on my clit. She began massaging the fresh bare strip, soothing the skin. My mind slipped away again. She opened my labia. Planning her next strip, I figured.
Then I felt her fingertip on my clit again. Another accidental brush. But it remained there, and began small circles. She was fingering my clit! The pressure and speed increased. I was laying completely exposed to her. She knew. And this total stranger was trying to make me cum! I started cuming silently, but no longer bothered to hide it. No mental porn was necessary now. The entire situation had become hotter than even my imagination could have dreamed.
She stepped away to answer the phone. I was trembling, and covered in goosebumps. I was panting. I reached down for my jacket and used it to cover my face and arms wrapped around my body. I lay there waiting for her to return and finish. She soon did, and continued the wax. I continued to cum, no longer trying to hide it from her, but somehow comforted by the cover of my jacket.
I let my mind go. I let my face go. I launched far into subspace. I tossed, and writhed under her hands silently until finally she was done.
I dressed slowly, obviously shaking. I paid and tipped. I wanted to kiss her deeply to thank her as well, but I did not. I went to my car and waited until I thought most of the after effects had cleared. I pulled into traffic, then right back into another parking lot as I was still not capable of driving safely. Driving in subspace is as bad as driving drunk. Finally after a quick lunch, and some more time, I was able to get home for a much needed nap.
Perhaps I can nearly get to subspace alone now, but aftercare is always better with a partner.