Chapter 12: Waxing and Waning
The reinforced steel door of Jason’s safehouse clanged shut behind them, the echo bouncing off concrete walls hung with tactical gear and intricate blueprints of Gotham’s underbelly. The air smelled of gun oil, stale coffee, and damp concrete. Selina shivered, the torn flap of her catsuit useless against the damp chill, her swollen clit throbbing like a second heartbeat against the cool air. Jason didn’t pause. He gripped her upper arm, not roughly, but with decisive possession, steering her past a scarred workbench littered with tools and weapon parts, past the ominous outline of a medical bed under a single, harsh fluorescent light, and towards a smaller, surprisingly clean bathroom.
"Strip. Waist down. Now," he commanded, his voice clipped, already rummaging in a metal cabinet. He pulled out a professional-looking waxing kit, a bottle of oil, and a small tub of white cream. "Shower's there. Get clean. I want that greedy pussy bare." He didn’t look at her swollen flesh, focusing on his preparations with unnerving calm.
A flicker of defiance sparked in Selina’s eyes, warring with the deep, insistent ache. Being ordered to shower felt… domestic. Controlling. "Thought the medical bed was calling," she retorted, leaning a hip against the cold porcelain sink, her exposed sex a blatant challenge.
Jason finally turned, his gaze sweeping over her, lingering dispassionately on the thick, dark shaft jutting from her curls. "It is. After I remove this fucking distraction." He gestured dismissively at her pubic hair. "Bad girls don't get to hide. Especially not greedy little clits like yours. Now shower. Unless you want me to hose you down cold."
The image – humiliating, practical – extinguished her defiance. She turned the faucet, the water hissing loudly in the small space. The steam offered a brief cocoon as she peeled the ruined lower half of her catsuit off, the latex sticking to her damp skin. The hot water was a relief on her tense muscles, a counterpoint to the cool air on her exposed, hypersensitive flesh. She washed quickly, efficiently, avoiding direct contact with her engorged clit. Every accidental brush sent shockwaves of sensation through her – pleasurable, but almost too intense, bordering on painful. She felt raw, exposed, the serum’s heat a constant simmer.
She stepped out, dripping, grabbing a thin towel. Jason was waiting, the small bathroom feeling even smaller. He’d laid out the waxing supplies on the closed toilet lid. "Towel off. Lie back on the counter." He pointed to the cleared sink area, covered with a fresh towel.
Selina hesitated, the cold porcelain biting into her bare ass as she hoisted herself up. She leaned back against the mirror, legs dangling. Vulnerability washed over her, sharper than the water. Jason approached, a pot of wax warming in a small heater beside him. The faint, honeyed smell of it filled the humid air. He dipped a wooden spatula, testing the consistency. Satisfied, he looked down at her, his expression unreadable, professional. "This will hurt," he stated flatly. "Hold still. If you squirm and make me fuck it up, you'll regret it."
She nodded, bracing her hands on the counter’s edge, knuckles white. The first touch of the hot wax high on her left mound made her flinch. "Fuck!" she hissed.
"Stay." His hand pressed firmly on her hipbone, pinning her. He spread the wax swiftly, expertly, in a small patch covering the dark curls above her clit and down the crease of her thigh. He smoothed a strip of cloth over it, pressing down firmly. The heat was intense, uncomfortable. Selina held her breath, focusing on the condensation on the mirror beside her head. Jason didn’t hesitate. He gripped the cloth tab.
Riiip.
A sharp, stinging burn flared across her skin. Selina gasped, her body tensing, legs trying to snap shut on instinct. Jason’s hand on her hip held firm. "I said still," he growled, dropping the hair-studded strip into a small bin. He didn’t pause, moving to the other side, applying another strip. Riiip. Another gasp, another jolt of pain. She felt exposed, the skin stinging and bare.
He worked methodically: higher on the mound, then lower, meticulously clearing a path towards the epicenter. Each rip was a sharp punctuation in the steamy silence, followed by Selina’s sharp intake of breath or bitten-off curse. He avoided the immediate area around her swollen clit for now, clearing the territory. The sting was constant, a low-level burn radiating across her newly bared skin.
Then he moved inwards. He dipped the spatula again. "Deep breath," he muttered, almost clinically. He applied the wax carefully around the base of her engorged clit, the heat making the hypersensitive flesh jump violently. Selina whimpered, a high-pitched sound she barely recognized. He smoothed the cloth over the wax covering the tight curls clinging to the sides of the thick shaft. His fingers brushed the side of her clit as he pressed the cloth down. The jolt of sensation was electric, agonizingly intense – not entirely pain, not entirely pleasure, just overwhelming feeling. She cried out, her hips bucking wildly.
Jason’s free hand slammed down on her lower belly, holding her flat against the counter with brutal force. "Fucking hold it, Selina!" he snapped. "Unless you want hot wax on that fat clit." The threat was visceral. She froze, trembling, tears pricking her eyes from the overwhelming sensation. He gripped the cloth tab near the base of her clit.
Riiiiip.
The pain was sharper, more localized. She screamed, the sound raw and ragged, echoing off the tiles. It felt like the skin itself was being torn. Tears spilled over, tracking through the condensation on the mirror. Beneath the sharp sting, the exposed nerves of her swollen clit screamed, hypersensitive beyond belief. Jason dropped the strip, revealing the completely bare skin around the thick, dark-pink shaft. Her pussy was now a smooth, hairless expanse, the engorged clit standing out obscenely, pulsing visibly.
"Fuck you," she sobbed, the words thick with pain and humiliation.
"Almost done," he said, his voice losing some of its edge. He applied one last small strip lower, near her entrance. Rip. She barely flinched this time, a dull throb against the sharper sting higher up. He surveyed his work. Her pussy was completely bare, the skin red and angry around the edges, the focus entirely on the thick, glistening knot of flesh at its apex.
"Good girl," he murmured, the praise unexpected, sending a confusing warmth through her despite the pain. He picked up the bottle of oil, pouring some onto a clean cloth. "This'll soothe it." His touch, as he gently dabbed the oil onto the stinging, reddened skin of her mound and thighs, was startlingly careful. The oil was cool, neutralizing the burn left by the wax. He avoided her clit entirely for now. The gentleness after the brutality was almost worse, making her feel strangely fragile. She watched his focused expression in the mirror – the slight furrow in his brow, the controlled precision of his movements. It was… intimate. More intimate than the fucking, sometimes.
Finally, he put the oil aside and picked up the small tub of white cream. He unscrewed the lid. The cream looked innocuous, odorless. He scooped out a generous dollop onto two fingertips. "This," he said, his voice low and deliberate, his eyes finally meeting hers in the steam-fogged glass, "is lidocaine. Strong stuff. Numbing cream." He held her gaze. "Your greedy little fuck-button is too sensitive right now. Twitches if the wind blows. Can't have you spraying all over my medical bed before I even start, can we?" He didn't wait for an answer. His fingers, coated thickly in the cool, white cream, descended.
Selina braced herself. His touch, when it came, was firm, deliberate. He spread the cool cream thickly over the entire swollen surface of her clit, starting at the base where it emerged from her folds, working up over the hypersensitive shaft, and smearing a thick layer directly onto the engorged, exposed glans. He rubbed it in, his fingertips massaging the numbing agent deep into the burning, throbbing flesh. The sensation was bizarre. The intense, almost painful sensitivity was instantly muted, replaced by a spreading coolness, a deep, profound numbness. It felt… detached. Like the most vital, demanding part of her was suddenly wrapped in thick felt.
She gasped, not in pain, but in shock. The constant, screaming awareness of her clit – the heat, the throb, the insane sensitivity – was just… gone. Muffled. Distant. "Oh god," she breathed, staring down at his fingers working the cream into her numb flesh. "It's… gone. I can't feel it."
"Not gone," Jason corrected, his voice a rough murmur. He added more cream, ensuring every millimeter of the swollen knot was coated. "Just quiet. Tamed." He rubbed firmly one last time, his thumb pressing into the now-insensate flesh. "Can't have you losing your mind because I brush against it while I work, can I?" He lifted his fingers, coated in residue. The cream was already doing its work; her clit felt alien, a heavy, unresponsive weight between her legs, still visibly engorged and dark, but silent. The deep internal heat from the serum remained, a banked fire, but the surface was numb. "Better." He wiped his fingers on a toweHe stepped back, surveying her. Naked from the waist down, sprawled on the counter, her pussy hairless, red-tinged, and dominated by the thick, cream-coated shaft of her clit. Utterly exposed. Utterly controlled. "Up," he ordered, his voice regaining its hard edge. He turned off the wax warmer. "Medical bed. Now. Time to see how well that serum took. Time to start pumping." He grabbed her arm again, pulling her off the cold porcelain. Her legs felt weak, unsteady. The numbness between them was profoundly disorienting. He guided her out of the steamy bathroom, back into the cooler, harsher light of the main safehouse space, towards the waiting steel frame of the medical bed. The promise of his words hung heavy in the air: pumping. Her detached, numb flesh seemed to pulse faintly in anticipation of the violation to come.
Her detached, numb flesh pulsed faintly, a ghost of sensation beneath the thick lidocaine cream, as Jason guided her towards the stark medical bed. The cool air of the safehouse raised goosebumps on her bare legs, contrasting sharply with the lingering heat radiating from her core and the fresh sting of the waxing. He halted her beside the cold steel frame, his grip still firm on her arm. "Stand," he ordered, his voice low, then moved to a cabinet bolted to the concrete wall, pulling out a large bottle of pure aloe vera gel.
Without another word, he turned back, the cool, clear gel already coating his palms. His hands, surprisingly gentle now, smoothed the soothing liquid over the angry red patches on her freshly waxed mound and the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. The immediate cooling relief was profound, easing the residual burn left by the wax strips. He worked meticulously, coating every inflamed inch, his calloused fingers tracing the newly bare contours with unexpected care. The gel felt like salvation against the raw ache, thick and cool.
He knelt before her, the submissive posture starkly at odds with his usual dominance. Leaning forward, he pressed a lingering kiss directly onto the smooth, aloe-slicked skin just above where her numb clit throbbed silently. “There,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, a stark counterpoint to the cooling gel. “Better?” His hands continued their gentle ministrations, skimming lightly over her hips, her waist, a quiet reassurance beneath the harsh fluorescent light. This tenderness, after the clinical brutality of the waxing and the threat of the medical bed, was disarming, a proof of care layered deep within his control.
He rose, wiping his hands on a rag, his gaze locking onto hers. The dangerous intensity hadn’t vanished, merely shifted focus. “Choice time, Kitten.” He reached back into the cabinet, pulling out two objects. One was a sleek, rounded helmet, matte black, its surface unbroken except for two stylized, pointed cat ears protruding from the top – the ‘Bubble’. The other was a thick, veined silicone cock gag, glistening faintly. “You want to watch?” he asked, his voice a low rumble holding both threat and promise. “Or you want the Bubble? Nice and dark. Quiet. I can feed you visuals… maybe a loop of that fat clit getting vibed into oblivion later tonight. Or just some boring bullshit about deep-sea mollusks. Keeps your mind occupied while your body takes what it needs.” He held the helmet loosely.
He dangled the silicone cock in his other hand, its bulbous head glistening obscenely. “Or… you choke on this. Looks pretty stretching your slutty mouth wide. Nice alternative visual for me.” A predatory grin touched his lips. “Could always connect the chain from your new tongue stud down to that collar instead. Make you drool all over those big fucking tits. Pretty picture that.” He paused, letting the filthy options hang in the air, his eyes burning into hers, waiting for her decision. "What's it gonna be?"
The images flooded Selina’s mind – the isolation of the Bubble, the potential humiliation of the drool chain, the obscene fullness of the gag. The numb, heavy ache in her clit was suddenly drowned out by a hot gush of pure slickness flooding her inner folds, a visceral reaction to the choices presented. She felt the warm wetness seep out, trickling down her inner thigh despite the numbing cream silencing her external nerve endings. Her breath hitched, a ragged sound in the quiet room. The serum’s fire roared back to life deep inside, demanding, needing the culmination Jason promised. Watching felt too direct, too vulnerable. She craved the surrender of sensation without sight, the focus purely on what he would do to her body.
"The Bubble," she breathed, her voice thick with arousal, her gaze fixed on the dark helmet. "And... the chain. On the tongue stud." The words were barely a whisper, laced with humiliation and a desperate, undeniable want. She needed to feel the pull, the constant reminder of her position, the wet mess she’d become.
Jason’s grin widened, a flash of white teeth in the gloom. "Good fucking girl," he purred, the approval sending another jolt through her sodden core. He stepped close. "Open." He didn't wait, pressing the thick, cool silicone bulb of the gag past her lips. She instinctively opened wider, the rubbery taste filling her mouth as he pushed it deep, the flared base settling snugly against her lips, stretching them wide. He buckled the strap tightly behind her head, the leather biting slightly into her skin. Saliva immediately pooled under her tongue, trapped by the obstruction.
Next, he produced a thin, delicate silver chain. With deft fingers, he unclipped one end and fastened it securely to the small steel ball nestled in the center of her tongue. "Stick it out," he commanded around the gag. She complied, pushing her tongue forward between the silicone, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the chain dangling. He guided the other end down, clipping it with a soft click to the sturdy O-ring centered on the front of her leather collar. The chain pulled taut, forcing her tongue to remain extended just past her lips, held down by the connection to her throat. A string of spit instantly escaped, drooling thickly over her lower lip and chin, beginning its descent towards her chest. She felt utterly exposed, degraded. Perfect.
Finally, he lifted the Bubble. The interior was padded, dark, smelling faintly of electronics and clean plastic. He lowered it over her head, the world vanishing instantly into absolute blackness and profound silence. The only sound was the rush of her own pulse in her ears and the wet, muffled sounds of her breathing around the gag. She felt the clasp secure at her throat, sealing her in. Utterly isolated. Utterly his.
Inside the absolute void, a soft light bloomed. It resolved into an image – not her pussy, not mollusks. It was a slow-motion loop of thick, glistening honey dripping from a spoon onto a ripe, dark fruit. Hypnotic. Teasing. Focused on viscous fluid. She felt a vibration hum faintly through the helmet’s padding, a low, insistent thrum against her skull. Simultaneously, she felt Jason’s hands, warm and firm, grip her hips. He lifted her effortlessly. The cold steel of the medical bed pressed against her bare ass. He guided her back, positioning her precisely. Leather restraints clicked shut around her wrists and ankles, securing her spread-eagled. She was blind, silenced, bound, drooling onto her own tits, her body slick with aloe and her own desperate wetness, her clit numb but the furnace between her legs burning hotter than ever. The anticipation was an agony. The image of the dripping honey filled her vision. She waited, utterly helpless, for the pump to start.
The cold steel bit into her bare ass as Jason lifted her hips, positioning her onto the reclining section of the medical bed. He adjusted the angle sharply, tilting her pelvis upward until her freshly waxed pussy was presented obscenely high. Her legs were bent sharply at the knees, forced wide apart by padded stirrups that clamped around her calves, holding her thighs splayed open in a brutal V. Leather cuffs snapped shut around her wrists, securing her arms to the table's sides, keeping her mostly upright, her back supported but her vulnerable core thrust forward. He placed a small, hard rubber ball into her restrained right hand. "Drop it if it's too much," his voice was muffled, distant through the Bubble's insulation, a stark counterpoint to the visual void and the hypnotic honey drip still playing behind her eyes. The ball felt alien, cold, insignificant against the roaring need in her belly.
She heard the faint digital chirp of a speakerphone activating, cutting through the muffled silence inside her helmet. Then, Alabaster's smooth, amused voice, laced with dark promise, filled the safehouse air, slightly tinny through the speaker. "Caught the little thief red-handed again, Jay? Naughty kitten." Chalcedony's deeper, rougher chuckle followed immediately. "Fuckin' predictable. That serum’s got her hooked worse than venom. Saw it the moment her clit started puffing up like a fuckin' pastry." Their voices were clear, intimate, discussing her like she wasn't present, bound and exposed just feet away.
"Needs a proper reminder," Jason replied, his tone conversational, almost casual, as Selina heard the clink of metal instruments being laid out nearby. "What’s the verdict? She stole proprietary data. High-grade shit." Alabaster purred, "High-grade theft deserves high-grade correction. That greedy clit needs more than a spanking, lover. Pump it raw. Make it weep. Then make her swallow every fucking drop of new serum you squeeze out." Chalcedony growled agreement, "Yeah! Fill her cunt with ice while you pump that fat button. Clamp her nipples to the fucking table edge. Make her scream into that gag while her pussy freezes and her clit burns." Selina’s breath hitched wetly around the silicone cock filling her mouth. Drool cascaded freely down the chain from her pinned tongue, soaking her collarbones. Their suggestions, filthy and cruel, ignited a fresh flood of slickness between her thighs. New serum. Undiluted. The words echoed in her numb skull. She squeezed the rubber ball convulsively, not to drop it, but to channel the electric surge of terror and desperate want.
Inside the dark Bubble, the dripping honey vanished. It was replaced by a sudden, vivid fantasy: Chalcedony’s thick, veined cock plunging deep into her cunt in one brutal thrust, stretching her wide, while Alabaster’s equally imposing length filled her throat, choking her past the gag. She felt the phantom stretch, the impossible fullness, the rough slide of skin on skin. Simultaneously, Jason’s hands were on her numb clit, not pumping yet, but spreading her outer lips wider with cool, clinical metal tools, exposing her utterly. His voice cut through her hallucination, low and deliberate, aimed directly at her through the isolation. "Hear that, Kitten? They know what you really want. You want to be a dripping, double-stuffed futa slut just like them. Don't you?" The fantasy intensified – Chalcedony pounding her cervix, Alabaster fucking her face, Jason’s thumb pressing hard on her engorged, numb clit, methodically working it. "Your greedy hole clenches just thinking about it," Jason murmured, his words a dark caress. She felt the cool touch of metal against her clit hood, a probe of some kind. "This pump’s gonna milk that want right out of you. Make room for the real serum." A high, desperate whine escaped around the gag, muffled by the helmet. The rubber ball was slick in her sweating palm. She didn't drop it. She held on, her body trembling, waiting for the bite of the pump, the promise of transformation burning hotter than the serum’s original fire. The cool metal nozzle pressed firmly against the hooded base of her numb, swollen clit.