Zippers

PART 13

 

 

As I opened the door I caught my breath. There were two women standing there, neither of them were familiar, that didn't stop them practically walking through me. Unable to protest, I watched as they carried in a stack of boxes. Having piled these in the front room, they went back to their car and came back with even more. As an inert bystander in the activities in my home, I had returned to the sofa and stared at the floor for a minute. I had been scouting for any rogue hairs left on Lisa. Watching the girls out of the corner of my eye I tried to carry on; I could not see any, she was as smooth as a baby below the hairline on her head. She had just finished looking me over. I had stood naked in front of her with my legs spread while she had examined me. I could feel every stir and eddy of the air as a cool brushing on my sensitive bald skin. Nowhere was I more conscious of this than in the area that was accustomed to being sheltered with pubic hair.

 

I had grabbed my short robe to answer the door and could feel the crisp autumn air rushing in against me.

 

With a slam of my front door, the two women set down the rest of their boxes.

 

'You are to stay out of the way and keep quiet while we work', said one of the women. I knew that I was bound by that command; I could feel when a message was aimed at Vivienne's control system within me. It seemed that anyone could be given access to this since she had fitted it. It was like a parasite in my head, I almost wanted to smash it clean open and rip at my brain; such was my frustration. I gritted my teeth and once again accepted that I was a controllable 'slave-girl'.

 

I looked at the nearest girl. She was in her early thirties, I thought. She was immaculately figured, with short-cropped bleached, blonde hair. She was a tall Amazon, a classical Germanic beauty. Her accomplice was a smaller, but no less beautiful, red-head. She had the same low-maintenance hairstyle as other girl but was wider in the hips. Both were dressed in practical, forgettable, grey overalls.

 

I had turned back to Lisa as they had started to unpack. The cool air had lifted some microscopic hairs up on her forearm. I was thankful for the luck as I set to them with the electrolysis probe.

 

 

 

It was two days after Vivienne's visit. As I fried the tiny patches beneath the hair follicles I realised that I was sitting almost in the same place that I had been when Vivienne had crushed me. I had been revolted, in equal parts, at her depravity and how I was so helplessly subject to it. Her vile, psychopathic 'hobby' of storing the removed wombs of her victims revealed just how unhinged she really was. That anyone could gain pleasure from that was twisted and warped beyond my comprehension. The fact that it was she who was my Mistress was starting to fill me with nihilism. I would never be able to live a decent life, I was sure that she could not possibly be planning that for me. Maybe the only way that I could live would be to avoid her punishments. It struck me that to try and live between the gaps of her strict regime would be a progressively futile enterprise. Maybe I would just have to go with it. Maybe I should simply no longer care, as my caring just gave her ways to torment me; but then that was the kind of person that I was; I had morals, aspirations and ideals; I couldn't just erase them.

 

I had always thought, in fact I had known, that one day, I would get married and have children. She had now torn that from me, quite literally, to become a decoration in some macabre display. On that day, I had started to carefully count my blessings, as I had no idea when the next atrocity would be afflicted on me, nor what it would be. Maybe my hands would be cut off next, so I should just enjoy having them; or maybe she would blind me, for fun; so I should cherish every single vision, even the terrible ones. It seems to me that there is only so much fear that a woman can live in before she starts to change, irreversibly. In the most perverse, deconstructive way, she had almost rendered me enlightened!

 

After she had left, I had locked myself in the toilet for two hours. I'd tried to take a razor blade to my wrist but I knew that I would be forbidden before I could pick it up. That was the final straw, the death blow, checkmate against Anita. I couldn’t even kill myself. 'Fuck it', I had thought. I resigned. I gave up my resistance that day. Having lost everything, my fear had started to give way to an abandonment of concerns. It was almost liberating. I knew I was fucked, fucked up beyond all hope, but maybe I could scavenge some grains of enjoyment from this somewhere. Maybe. I would try.

 

 

 

There was a thump to my left. I returned to my work, studiously ignoring our most recent intruders. The girls were obviously well drilled and experienced. Within an hour they had set up two computers in the front room. They had set up a secure internal network and had fitted cameras in each room of the flat. These were apparently 'wireless' and each looked down from one of the ceiling corners so that the whole room was within its range. The blonde girl had done the fitting while the red-head had spent her time at the keyboard, configuring the system, I supposed.

 

When she had set up all the cameras, the blonde girl started connecting leads to the other computer. There were a number of units, mounted in a rack that needed to be wired to the computer. After she had done this, she went back to the car and returned with a large, padded sausage-looking thing. It was about three feet long and about a foot in diameter. She took a number of sturdy, adjustable metal poles and fitted them to the sausage. As she turned it upside down and stood it on its four legs, it reminded me of a vaulting horse. She screwed an umbilical cable into the horse and connected the other end to the rack of boxes. Another trip to the car and she came back with a clinical, white case which she stowed under the horse. Finally, it was all set up. They arranged it so that one computer was facing into the room while the other had its screen disconnected and was secreted inside a cupboard. After this, they both cleared away all the boxes, collected their tools, and without a word, left.

 

 

I zapped the last hair that I could find. I wanted this job done well and Mistress Trisha would be here soon, she had to be satisfied. We had packed the electrolysis machine away and were just letting our curiosity pull us towards the new equipment when, true to her word, Trisha arrived. She let herself in.

 

She was dressed in a stunningly cut black trouser suit; her hair was pulled tightly up before billowing outwards as fluffy shocks of wavy curls. She was an incredibly attractive woman but it was her deportment that carried her towards near perfection. Lisa and I had discussed our plan for her arrival. As she stepped gracefully towards us, we both threw ourselves to the floor on our bellies and, naked still, we started to vigorously lap at her boots.

 

'Good sluts!’ she said, her pleasure was almost palpable.

 

She let us clean her boots for a minute before getting us to our feet. She had us standing with our legs widely spread and our arms up at ninety degrees. She took a magnifying glass from her bag and gave us a serious look. I was not religious, but I had prayed that we had done our job properly. She started with Lisa. Her magnifying glass had a light on the inside edge of its rim; there was no way that she would miss a single hair. I shut my eyes and prayed again.

 

The tense minutes dragged out further and further as Lisa's body was scrutinised to the minutest detail, we were all in absolute silence. I could hear Lisa breathing rapidly next to me, I wanted to reach out, hold her hand and tell her that we were in this together. I stayed motionless as Trisha straightened her back and, in silence, moved over to me. I was shaking as she looked me over. One minute she as under my armpits, the next she had me pulling my buttocks aside.

 

'Mmmmmm, look at that lovely soft pink rose, Anita'

 

I let out a surprised little scream as I felt her fingernail rub against the inside of my anus. Shocked with myself, I immediately pulled myself back to attention. Trisha giggled.

 

'Sit down on the sofa, girls', she finally said. Her voice was relaxed and playful, 'had we done it?’ I dared to think.