An Emerging Pt. 05

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A new persona emerges from repression.
6.2k words
5.3k
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Part 5 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/23/2022
Created 10/07/2011
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First, a warning - this story is based around a "Loving wives" theme. If that gives you issues, you are going to have to grind your way to the end, some 50,000 words away before you can grumble. Ask yourself, is it really worth the effort?

The second warning is, the first 2 1/2 sections are substantially the same as an earlier submission of mine "Emergence".

Thanks to "Blackstallion21" for editing support.

Chapter9

Patrick entered, carrying a steaming kettle, which he set down on the toilet seat. From his back pocket he produced a pair of scissors. He stood before her, and placing his hands on her knees eased them apart. She understood, and moved her hips forward, spreading her legs as wide as she could. Then, he knelt. Between thumb and forefinger, he grasped a lock of her pubic hair. Pulling it to its longest extent, he snipped it off, close to the skin, leaving just a few millimetres. Methodically and silently, he repeated the act until all the hair on her mons had been reduced to soft stubble. At no stage did he raise his eyes to her face, or show anything other than total concentration. Rachael's sense of continuing mild anxiety served only to heighten her already intense excitement. The process so far was not especially pleasurable at the purely physical level; Patrick's concentration, his lack of obvious sexual reaction to his task added a frisson. Being handled so intimately, but so dispassionately was slightly humiliating. Rachael had never before found that erotic.

Now he was inspecting her outer lips, clipping away the sparse hairs, she found herself relishing the discomfort of his tugging at each filament, before removing it. It brought slight and transient relief from her need. Still without comment, he stood and turned. He poured the contents of the kettle into the washbasin, steam rising despite the warmth of the room. He picked up her washcloth from the hook at the side of the basin and dropped it in. He picked up his razor from the shelf above, and used its handle to stir the cloth around in the hot water, using the razor to lift a fold of the cloth above the surface, he picked out the cloth, and held it dripping, before taking it and giving it a firm wringing. For the first time in minutes, he spoke.

"This'll feel a bit hot, but it'll soften the hairs – it makes using the razor much easier."

She closed her eyes in anticipation, again hunching her pelvis forward. The cloth was indeed hot, but not scalding. Not quite. He spread it over her mons, and then wrapped it beneath her, covering her slit. He took her left hand, placing it to hold the cloth in place. The heat was mildly painful, but thrilling. Her entire vulva seemed to be wrapped in torrid humidity, to which she was certain her own heated fluids were contributing. With her fingers, she applied pressure to her vestibule. She sighed.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "My God, is there anything that doesn't get you going?"

Rachael was unsure if the comment was slightly arch, born of genuine surprise, or approving. She decided to respond humorously.

"Not today. And, it's not as though a girl gets quite such an attentive personal grooming service every day. We respectable married women can get quite neglected, you know."

He laughed, glancing down at her groin. She realised that the movements of her fingers, squeezing the cloth into herself, had become more pronounced.

"I can see that..."

From his wash bag, he produced a tube of shaving cream, and his shaving brush. He squeezed an inch or so of cream into the palm of his left hand, and with his right, dipped his shaving brush into the still piping hot bowl. He swirled it around, and then deftly gave it a squeeze. Applying it to the cream, he whipped up a thick lather.

He stepped over to her, reached down and removed the now cool washcloth. Her posture left her totally exposed to him. Her eyes, he saw, were glowing with anticipation.

"You'll like this bit, I think. Finest badger hair....."

She did. He used the soft brush to spread the lather copiously from the top of her pelvis, all the way back almost to her anus, covering the tops of her thighs into the bargain. Being covered in the warm, slippery foam was in itself a sensuous experience, but it paled compared to what the touch of the brush did to her. It flicked and tickled at her most sensitive points. Her aroused state and the removal of the protective curls meant that the head of her clitoris was subject to its direct stimulation. The contact triggered another of the mini climaxes she'd experienced earlier. She cooed her pleasure.

"Ooh, that's lovely"

She felt her vulva relaxing, separating the outer lips, and now exposing the sensitive inner petals to the touch of the brush. Smiling, he flicked the brush along their length, producing another spasm, and another sigh. Delicious as these were, she became aware; they weren't reducing her craving for more, and bigger.

He straightened, turning back to the basin.

"A fresh blade's in order, I think"

Fitting one, he knelt again between her splayed thighs. With the razor in his right hand, he reached to dip it in the bowl.

"Seriously, I need you to stay very still while I'm doing this"

"Easier said than done", she thought. His left hand spread the skin of her mons tight, and she awaited the touch of the blade. When it did make contact it was the temperature, rather than anything else that surprised her. In fact, the keenness of the blade, and the softness of the hair meant that there was almost no mechanical stimulus. Its touch was the merest whisper on her skin.

With each stroke, he re-wetted the blade. Entranced, she watched as the white lather was removed. The flesh revealed was pink, warm from its preparation. With just a few deft strokes, her mound was rendered completely bare. It looked luscious.

"Now the hard part," Patrick applied the fingers of his left hand to the top and bottom of her right outer labium, stretching the flesh. She froze. He applied the razor, running from front to rear, and then repeated the actions on the left. He put down the razor on the edge of the basin, before running his fingertips over the area. It seemed she could feel every wrinkle on his fingertips.

"Not too bad." He seemed relieved. "One last little job"

That "little job" was to run the razor over the tops of her thighs, removing any last traces which might have escaped waxing.

Rachael remained on the edge of the bath, unable to tear her eyes away from her transformed pelvis. Its pinkness was fading, as the flesh cooled. It was still dotted with blobs and streaks of lather, but they did nothing to hide her form.

Patrick drained the basin, and then held the washcloth under the running warm tap. He handed it to her, to remove the traces of foam. He then lifted her bottle of baby-oil from the cabinet, and yet again, knelt before her. As he smeared it over her newly uncovered flesh, she couldn't prevent herself from squirming; her skin seemed super-sensitive, making the slippery contact of his fingers feel truly exquisite. When he began to stroke the oil along the length of her labia, penetrating her slightly, she had to bite her lip to suppress a yelp of joy.

"That's it, done." He looked relieved. "And everything intact." He removed his hand, and began to wash the residue of oil from it. Rachael couldn't bring herself to speak. She was tracing her fingers lightly over the region, as if to confirm its yielding softness.

"Calm yourself down" she thought. It did little good. She soaked the washcloth in cold water from the basin tap, and applied it to her glowing cheeks. It afforded some relief, so she did the same to her groin.

Patrick was waiting for her, at ease in the in the chair by the fire. Crossing the room to him, she was able to see herself in the ornate mirror above the fireplace. She couldn't help but stare at her bare pubis as she walked.

"Looks good, doesn't it? He was obviously proud of his handiwork.

"God, yes. I never thought it'd look so filthy"

"Do you think your husband will like it?"

Rachael pondered – should she tell him the truth? Why not, she thought......

"I really don't care. I like it. It makes me look so randy..."

She was still on her high, she realised. She felt as though she might finally achieve the release of a full-scale orgasm within moments, given the right assistance.

He handed her a parcel, a wrapped box.

"A little contribution. Time to open this, don't you think?

She picked it up, and moved to the changing screen. Hidden from his view, she slid the ribbon from the box, and lifted the lid. Inside was a pink tissue-wrapped parcel, which she lifted out. To her surprise, below it was another, this one wrapped in silver-grey. The pink paper tore to reveal what at first looked like a ball of diaphanous lace and ribbon. It was only when she lifted it she could see truly what it was.

The top was formed from a single, broad emerald green ribbon, to which was sewn lace forming a halter. She lowered the halter over her head – the large bow at the back of the neck was already tied – and knotted the ribbon behind her. Looking down at the parcel, she saw there was more. The knickers were fronted with more of the same gauzy lace; the rear was of the same green satin as the ribbon of the brassiere. At each side was a length of the green ribbon, which tied to close the front and rear together. Once on, the bows formed by the side ribbons were prominent. The final item was the simplest; another length of the ribbon. An attached note suggested it be tied as a choker.

Duly attired, she reached into the bottom of the wardrobe to find shoes. She'd bought several pairs – one was a pair of sandals, light and strappy, with heels of a good four inches.

It was time to test the effect on Patrick.

Glancing for a moment around the screen, she saw he was still sprawled in the chair, waiting expectantly. She stepped from her concealment, and was gratified to see his eyes widen.

"Bloody Hell....that looks amazing."

"Thank you"

She struck a pose – pelvis tilted one hand on her rearward hip, her right foot ahead of her left. Then, curiosity overcame her, and she moved to view herself in the room's only full length mirror. The lace covered her breasts and groin, but was so thin it did nothing to conceal them. Her clitoris was clearly visible in the cleft of her newly-bare pubis. The total effect was utterly feminine – and inordinately sexy.

"Where you want me?". She took the proffered glass, and took a long sip, before placing it on the bedside table.

He'd risen from the chair and taken the camera in hand.

"I thought to this one, we'd shoot on and around the bed. It would be a waste to have the four-poster and not make use of it, don't you think?"

She moved to the bottom of the bed. She leant against the bedpost, and placed her left hand on her hip.

"Not a bad start. Maybe you've a little more talent for this than you think."

"We'll have to see." She turned her back on him, raising her left hand to join the right, and thrusting her bottom towards the camera. The flash triggered.

"Yes, definitely some signs of talent so far. I'll let you lead for the time being."

Momentarily nonplussed, Rachael was unsure what to do next. Her thoughts were to concentrate on those areas which she thought showed off her body for the best; legs, breasts, and bottom. And, of course, there was the issue of the newly bare flesh.

"Okay, see what you think of this."

She moved onto the mattress, first letting the bra straps slip from her shoulders. She gazed directly into the camera. She then rolled over, lying on her back, her arms spread across the pillows. She arched her back slightly, in order to make her breasts prominent. It worked... another camera flash. She rolled to the left, lying on her side. Another flash. Then, kneeling on the mattress, her hands against the bed head she once more thrust her rear towards the camera. Flash. Turning again, she placed her back against the bed head, raising her right knee, consciously exaggerating the length of the leg. Flash. That one, she thought should have looked good. The eye would be drawn to pick out the details of the day of bare pubis behind the lace. She knelt up, stretching her arms above her head and facing directly towards the camera, rendering the costume totally transparent.

She was definitely, she mused, getting the hang of this. He'd be expecting her to remove the bra, the top, first. It was time to give him a little surprise. She turned again, facing away from him. With her right hand, she took the free end of the ribbon that formed the closure of skimpy pants. She looked back over her shoulder, assuming the most coquettish expression she could generate. Then, the same shot, wine glass in hand, as she drained the contents.

"Not bad, not bad."

"I'll show you "not bad"", she thought. She tugged on the ribbon, and felt the knot part. The satin fell away from her buttocks. Flash. She repeated the process, near identically on the left. Flash. The camera now had a clear view of her naked rear.

Now, Rachael surprised herself. Instinctively she clasped her thighs together, trapping the cloth so that it dangled down, and leant forward. Their intent was to give the camera a glimpse of her plump nether lips, framed between her thighs. Flash. She assumed it had worked. None the less, she leaned further forward, putting her elbows on the mattress. That ought to make the view all the more clear, she thought. Flash. She relaxed her thighs, slightly, allowing the cloth to fall to the mattress between them. Flash. She wondered if he was erect yet.

She was struck by an urge to make the most of her newly depilated condition. She rose, her knees spread wide for balance. She linked her hands behind her head. The pose would force her breasts against the thin fabric of the bra and show off her nipples. But that wasn't the best of it, for her. It would leave her clitoris on open display. flash

For the next few shots, she rang the changes on that same basic posture. Each time the flash triggered, she felt a pulse of excitement.

"I think it's time you lost the top now". As though by means of encouragement, he refilled her glass.

She loosed the ribbon behind her neck first, then the one crossing her back. She removed the garment. She held out her right arm straight, holding the scrap of lace in her fingers. Flash. Rachael was naked now, except for the green ribbon choker and her shoes.

She rapidly lost count of the number of shots he'd taken, of the poses she'd struck for the camera, of the passage of time. She did know she'd rung the changes. Standing, kneeling, prone and supine on the bed, allowing her plump breasts to swing free, or cupping them, offering them to the camera. More surprisingly, he'd had her also strike a number of poses without overt sexual content - sitting relaxed in one of the armchairs, as though her nakedness was routine. Even so, she felt a heady mix of desirability and intoxication. Exhibiting herself was superbly arousing. Unbidden, an image from childhood had come to her; an afternoon at a friends house. The friend's pet cat had been in heat, and they'd watched amused as she tried to persuade their other cat, an elderly tom, in mounting her. It'd culminated with the undignified spectacle of the younger cat walking backwards toward the tom, tail raised. Rachael felt no less blatant.

Even so, there were only so many poses it seemed possible to strike, and inspiration was waning. Patrick seemed to agree:

"Right. Time to ring the changes a bit. A change of costume, I think, and a bit of a different theme."

Rachael raised a quizzical eyebrow. Patrick continued.

"You didn't think we were finished, did you? It's not often I get the chance to photograph quite such a willing and sexy model. I was planning a few sets..."

"I thought you'd photo'd most of me pretty thoroughly!"

"It's not only about that....if we treat this as a bit of role play, the chance to act out a couple of fantasies, it'll be much more fun, don't you think?"

"OK, that sounds good to me. Anything in particular?"

"I was thinking more, anything you might like the idea of?"

Rachael thought for a moment. There was something about the atmosphere of the moment that made her think differently, giving her a different urge.

"You choose. Anything you like."

The idea of being someone else's fantasy appealed more than her own, for some reason.

"Right then." He stepped behind the screen. She followed. He rummaged through the pile on the bed, the paused.

"This, I think. Perfect for what I had in planned." He gestured, pointing at his selection.

He'd chosen a heavily embroidered bra and pants set in blue satin, with a matching wide suspender belt in blue and black.

"Slip that on, and then come down to the kitchen."

Rachael obeyed, adding a pair of deep-welted black stockings, together with black high heels.

Patrick was, as promised, in the kitchen, adjusting the flash guns. He spoke.

"Very nice"

Rachael agreed, silently. The front of the bra was cut low, exposing the upper portions of her aureolas. She pivoted on one foot, to show him the high cut rear of the pants, leaving her rear bare.

"Now, I've something very "Mrs X" in mind. Put this on"

To her surprise, he was holding out her outside coat.

"Sorry?"

"Here's what I want you to imagine. There's some young chap you like the look of, maybe at work or somewhere but he's not taken the hint so far. So, you've decided to take matters into you're own about turn up at his flat, looking perfectly respectable, but you intend to seduce him. Hence what you're wearing under your coat. Do you like the idea?"

Rachael did. A lot.

"I think I can come to terms with it..."

He suggested a start to the story, starting with her sitting at the kitchen table, then allowing the coat to fall aside showing just a hint of her stocking tops as he - or her imaginary victim - served her another glass of wine. She was now mildly drunk, she realised.

"So, what would you do next, do you think?"

Patrick's question caught her slightly by surprise.

"Oh.."

"Well, here you are. You've got this chap not quite sure what's going on, why he's got this very glamourous older woman sitting in his kitchen, still wearing her coat..."

Rachael's alcohol fogged brain took a moment to catch up. Before she could reply, Patrick continued:

"The best way to do this is for you to imagine you're doing this for real. Give it a try."

"Give me a second." The first thing she needed, she thought, was a subject for her seduction. Imagining Patrick in that role, after all they'd done together wasn't going to work. So, who?

The solution wasn't long in coming. Four or five years ago, long before meeting Patrick, she'd been in charge of the several graduate trainees at her work. At the time, she'd never have thought for a second of behaving in this way, but there'd been one....Sam, classically handsome, but shy and nervous around her. Maybe he'd fancied her?

The choice was made. Now, instead of Patrick and the camera, she pictured Sam.

Or rather, tried to. The image was there but somehow it needed to be brought alive.

"You'll have to help a bit. I need to talk to you as though it's for real...as if this were really happening"

"I think I can manage that." He took stock for a moment, then continued; "It's really nice to see you outside work Rach..Mrs Barnes...Rachael, but...err..I'm not sure why? Is there something I'd forgotten to do at work, or something?"

He'd hit the tone perfectly.

"Oh no, you don't have to worry. It's just social – I like to see all my team are properly taken care of, that sort of thing." Still wearing the coat, she stood, and moved to lean against the refrigerator. Even through the fabric, she could feel the cool hard steel against her back. "I'm not sure I need have worried about you though, at least from an accommodation perspective. You've found a really nice flat. Do you share it, or are you here alone?"

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