A Close Shave/Shock/Shave/Salon: Difference between revisions
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The first area is a normal hairdressing/beauty salon, but the assistant leads you through to a private area at the back. It's a pleasant enough room, decorated in pastel shades, with a small desk and chair in one corner, an armchair in another, and, dominating the room, a large complicated looking adjustable chair, similar to a dentist's chair. | The first area is a normal hairdressing/beauty salon, but the assistant leads you through to a private area at the back. It's a pleasant enough room, decorated in pastel shades, with a small desk and chair in one corner, an armchair in another, and, dominating the room, a large complicated looking adjustable chair, similar to a dentist's chair. | ||
There were some formalities to go through. Mostly, consent forms because of her age. The woman who was going to do it insisted that you had to stay with her. "It's usually the mother, but I guess you could stay up by her head," she says. A powerful memory of the day Daisy was born, and you stood at the top of the bed having your hand crushed by her mother, came into your head as you stood by your daughter holding her hand for reassurance. | |||
Revision as of 09:26, 22 March 2023
Persuading Daisy that a salon would be the best option wasn't easy. The problem is that if you do it for her, getting that close and personal with her pussy, and whatever that might lead to, is a problem. Even though, for some strange reason, she seems really keen that it should be you, you think that the salon would be the best and safest bet for both of you. She is understandably reluctant to let a stranger do it, fearful of potential pain and embarrassment, but in the end, you bribe her with the promise of dinner in an upmarket restaurant and a new dress.
You make an appointment and meet her outside her school, still in her uniform of white shirt and tartan skirt. You can't help noticing that the skirt is rather short. You are convinced that these uniforms are designed by men.
You take her to a café and you have a coffee while she has a cola to wash down the two paracetamol you give her. The salon is in a small alley off the main street, and its only a short walk. Parking is a problem, so you came on the bus. She makes a last-minute appeal for you to do it and you end up giving her the option of having it done there or not at all. You know that you will regret that ultimatum later, but lead her through the door anyway.
The first area is a normal hairdressing/beauty salon, but the assistant leads you through to a private area at the back. It's a pleasant enough room, decorated in pastel shades, with a small desk and chair in one corner, an armchair in another, and, dominating the room, a large complicated looking adjustable chair, similar to a dentist's chair.
There were some formalities to go through. Mostly, consent forms because of her age. The woman who was going to do it insisted that you had to stay with her. "It's usually the mother, but I guess you could stay up by her head," she says. A powerful memory of the day Daisy was born, and you stood at the top of the bed having your hand crushed by her mother, came into your head as you stood by your daughter holding her hand for reassurance.