Diary Entry: Sissy Waxing Part 1

I believe in Feminine Rituals. I am female, and I do engage in said feminine rituals on a regular basis. I believe that sissies must learn these rituals and complety them daily in order to live their sissy lives. How can you call yourself a sissy if you DON’T engage in these rituals?


 

Mistress Lillith’s rituals assignment is due in 1 week and I needed to get started early.

I searched through a few local salons–one that was super pink and girly and another that was more gender neutral–and settled on the gender neutral one. I called to book an appointment.

“Hi, I’d like to come in and have my legs and maybe areolas waxed.”

“We can do that. Are you looking for a brazilian? We can’t do brazilians for men, is that okay?” the receptionist asked. “That’s okay, I just need my full legs waxed.” “Okay, let me check with the beautician to see if she can fit you in today. Hold on.” “Okay, are you able to come in this afternoon?” “Yes, thank you.” And I booked the appointment. But…

2 hours later I received a call from the salon… “Hi Robert, I’m sorry, I’m new at this salon and I’m afraid the beautician isn’t comfortable waxing the entire leg. We do have another staff member that will wax your full leg but we would need to wait until tomorrow.” 🙁

… And the appointment fell through.

Needing a backup I called the super pink and girly and intimidating (but highest rated Yelp) salon in the area and booked an appointment. Everything was set.

Immediately after booking I received a call from the first salon’s manager. “Hi Robert, I’m sorry for the mix-up. We can get your full leg waxed today at a discount if you’d still like to come in.” Lol.

I think I might have inadvertently caused quite a stir.

This part of the story almost got deleted from the diary but made it in because–without passing judgement–I think the reaction caused by crossing gender boundaries is interesting.

The super pink and girly salon turned out to be super pink and girly. The entire area oozed femininity. Next door was a bridal shop. I entered the salon and approached the receptionist. There were a few women sitting in the fluffy pink and light green chairs and couches, staring at their glowing rectangles.

I was handed a new client form to fill out and given a bright pink glitter pen.

I was in foreign territory.

After finishing the form I handed it to the lady who would do my waxing: a young, cute bouncy, bubbly girl, who obviously cared about her makeup. Her dark green eye shadow extended out far from her eyes and then cut off sharpy at a 45 degree angle. Glitter shined from parts of her face. Her hair was HOT PINK and was pulled tight into a scrunchy that sat at the crown of her head, from there her hair flowed outward above her head like the stem above a carrot. This was Jessica. I was deep in foreign terriotry.

“Follow me,” she said. And we proceeded through the facility into the waxing room. “Take your clothes off. Leave your boxers or underwear or whatever you got on down there on. Lay down on this bench with your head on this end and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I did as I was told. She entered after a few minutes and I meekly asked for a vanity towel and was obliged.

Something hot was being spread on my leg. “So why do you want to get your legs waxed?” the pink haired girl asked. Hmmm… How to answer this? … … My Mistress is feminizing me?

Probably not a great answer. I began to sputter something about my hair and being unsatisfied with it and suddenly in the middle of my sentence my lungs gasped for air and my speech was cut short as sharp pain shot up through me like a lightning bolt. “uuuuuuggghhh…” I ended my answer prematurely.” Jessica giggled.

HO-LLE SMOKES. Waxing hurts. A. LOT.

I had read reviews about it being bad but I was genuinely surprised how much it hurt. Jessica and I made chit-chat the entire time. She was young, not married, into music, gave me tips on skin care and exfoliation, had 3 male clients and blah blah blah. I was constantly having my speech cut short by sharp pains as hair was ripped out my skin.

My nerves were on fire. “Maybe I can’t handle BDSM pain,” the thought occurred to me.

It was hard to stay focused on what was happening and not daydream about why I was here getting waxed. Fortunately I managed to stay soft and OH MY GOSH am I thankful for that. Finally after two hours it was over.

As I was paying the receptionist and getting ready to leave Jessica came to the front desk and reminded me: “Don’t shave it when it starts to grow back. Let it grow for 4 to 6 weeks and then come back and see us. It won’t hurt as bad next time. Use an exfoliater tomorrow and moisturize afterward.” For the first time since arriving I looked her in the eye and thanked her. Something curious happened next.

Jessica turned bright red as she smiled, looked at the ground suddenly, mumbled a thank you, and then hurried out of the room.

Jessica blushed hard! I wonder… (to be continued)


This part of the training always cracks me up. Obviously I don’t expect ALL of my sissy trainees to get waxed, there are work around and other rituals. But the ones that DO go out and get a wax, are always in for quite a sissy adventure.

 

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