The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter I — A hard start

Christine Reston, a wealthy stock broker, was having a hard day. For the last three months her husband had been sending her to Vintage Salon. Today she was enduring her first full “Beautification Day” to the establishment’s very special sector V.I.P. in the Salon. Along with her three close friends- Charlotte Finegan, Faye Humes and Jennifer Evans- she was scheduled for a complete day of beauty, arranged with great care by their husband in consultation Sheila, the salon’s manager.

The quartet had known each other for years- same select secondary academy, same Ivy League university, same club membership, similar paths to wealth and comfort as free and independet women. All of them were CEO en a big companies or similar excellent jobs. Christine noticed that in the last year or so her friends had grown increasingly old fashion forms, often appearing quite classic, at times down right nature women. Beginning with Charlotte in August of last year, then Faye last November, followed by Jennifer in February, the three became regular customers at Vintage Salon until her trio of friends routinely received treatments in the unique environment their husband favored. The gals raved about the exercise and procedures of the V.I.P. sector. They told her that she would too and all three claimed to be glad that she was joining them.

Christine found the salon terrible enough to endure. They were in an old beaty parlor. Not a salon, not a boutique, a parlor... a classic beauty parlor with big glass windows on each side of the door and frilly, pinky, lacey curtains hanging halfway down in each one. Then there are all these totally camp posters with pictures of women’s heads, sporting hairdos from what, the fifties.

Sheila, her owner, is a round little woman. She is one of those eternally bubbly souls with infectious good humor. Christine can’t help but smile back at her. She was maybe in her fourties but she looked older. Neat as a pin in her aqua blue nylon smock and white polyester slacks. Her grey hair was permed curly. There hasn’t been one nasty chemical anywhere near Christine´s head since the chlorine pool, when she was on her high school swim team and she aim to keep it that way.

“All right, ladies, let’s get started. Nice to see you again. And a special welcome to Mrs Reston. So nice to have you with us, honey. We’ve a lot to do with you four darlings. Follow me, please” and she guided us through the curtain in front of the reception area and into the main salon. The black and white tile floor gleamed. The smell is the first thing that hits them. It is a bit like the odor that Christine can feel it in her eyes. She can see it in the air. She can taste it. It hangs on her tongue and she could probably chew it. Her original take on the beauty parlor has been correct. Time had stopped here many, many years ago. This must be a museum. They have entered the land of frilly, pinky, lacey curtains. The place is a pink haze, extremely pink with touches of green. It is hard to be sure, with all of the pink. It isn’t a particularly large shop, but it has everything and everything is over the top frilly feminine. The expansive room was brightly lit by a row of a large chandelier style lighting arranged across the ceiling. The space on both the right and the left was subdivided, using netted curtain material, into four cubicle style self-contained styling areas on each side. Each cubicle contained a workstation with a styling chair, shampoo sink, supply cabinet of expensive wood and a large mirror. In the very middle of the salon area was a bank of six silver-domed hair dryers, back-to-back with three facing each way. To the rear of the main shop area were one door to the rest of shop where were the private spa, as they were later to discover.

Sheila took Christine the first cubicle on the left. Other assistants put the resta in the others next to it. Sheila´s styling assistants are all young girls, carefully madeup in an old fashion way, perfectly coiffed with bubble perms colored and stiffly hair-sprayed, her wrists scented with expensive perfume, waist obviously tightly corseted and classicaly dressed. Sheila drew back the netted curtain between the cubicles explaining that when she had customers who wanted to talk and to see each other, she could do this easily just by pulling back the curtain. “I though you four might want to chat and you might feel more relaxed if you can see each other. You’ll be having the exact same beauty treatments. Relax and enjoy. Let’s get started, shall we?”

The styling chairs were impressive salon furniture, sturdily constructed with lots of metal levers, upholstered in elegant, smooth pink leather. Having never in her life Christine been in a beauty shop like that, she was impressed. Sheila gestured her to sit. The seat was a bit high with a footrest, for support, about six inches above the floor. She eased herself up and slid as far back as she could into the soft upholstery. She put her feet on the footrest and Sheila turned the chair so that she was facing the mirror. The sensation of being off the ground and moving was strange.

Sheila placed a clear plastic cape over her smock and secured it in the back. Next a towel was placed around her shoulders and tucked in around the collar of her smock. Sheila then placed another towel around the opposite way around her front. Christine wondered what all this was for-smock, cape, two towels. Sheila explained that their first treatment would be a deep conditioning treatment. She and her assistants each opened a jar which had a thick, yellow, very sweet smelling cream in it. Using little spatulas, they spread a thick layer of it on their hair. They used their gloved fingers to smooth the paste evenly over their heads until four both looked like they had yellow cream instead of hair. A plastic shower cap was placed on each of their heads. Then a hairnet, pink of course, was placed over the shower cap, fastened in the back & then the ends tied into little bows right in the middle of their foreheads. The final indignity was a large vinyl cap which covered ears and forehead and snapped shut under their chins. They fit more snugly and these caps were plugged into wall outlets and the heat controls turned on. The controls were in the back and so beyond their reach. For twenty minutes they just cooked, alternately looking at their images in the mirrors then staring sleepy-eyed at each other. The caps were uncomfortably tight and very warm but the heat generated a pleasant mint-like smell from the cream on their hair. It was soothing...Christine could feel herself start to relax like the rest. The four women made small talk while their eyes glazed over and their mouth fell into an easy smile. Looking in the mirror, Christine could see those big bullet hair dryers lying in wait in back of them and she feared that soon enough they’d be suffering under them as she had heard her mom and grandmothers complain about being endlessly basted under hot dryers by beauticians. At that point she could´nt stay open her eyes anymore. When she looked at her friends, Christine discovered they were sleeped deply. Sheila then whispered in her ear: “This was going to be an awful day, bitch. At that moment you have no idea just then how awful it really will be, before it was over”.

Sheila was the epitome of a housewife scorned. Her husband had left her for a young wealthy stock broker like Chistine and she now hated all independent women. Her hatred of that women had so twisted her mind that she became obsessed with taking out her revenge on their.

After they had simmered for twenty minutes, Sheila and her assitants re-appeared. Sheila turned off the heat in Christine´s cap. She removed the cap and the two towels around her neck but she left the plastic cap on her head and the hairnet. “With that heat is enough, from now on the chemicals in your head will process only with the heat of the cap, dear” Christine felt relief to finally be able to step out of that large vinyl cap uncomfortably tight and very warm but the feeling was short lived. After the group went to the spa area, she had to change. An assitant neatly stored Christine’s street clothes and helped her dress into a cloth diaper. Her friends emerged from the dressing booths similarly adorned.

Wrapped in a sheet, with her plastic cap on her head she and the others seated themselves in steam cabinets, Faye in the one beside her, Charlotte and Jennifer opposite them. An attendant placed a towel around each of their necks, closed the lids, turned the steam on low and removed the plum-colored face cream.

“Girls, I’m going to put a deep-cleansing, firming mask on you to work on your complexions while you steam,” Sheila explained. From the groans of the others, Christine figured he was not going to like the experience. She didn’t. The ocherish colored cream turned hard as cement in a matter of minutes, making conversation impossible and giving Christine a feeling of helplessness such as he had never before known. Once the attendant made sure that their facials had properly hardened, she turned the heat up in the cabinets. She returned after twenty minutes.

“Mrs Reston, since this is your first time, I’m going to turn your temperature up just a bit for the last ten minutes of your steam, just to give you that extra boost to start your reducing program.” Christine wanted to object but the hardened facial made his only sound a little “mmmppphhhlllss.” The last ten minutes turned out to be fifteen.

Relief finally came in the form of a full body massage. Once off the massage table Christine covered herself with a pretty multi-colored robe adorned with flowers and slid her feet into a pair of frilly white mule slippers. She joined her friends in the solarium where they ate a light lunch of a tossed salad and unsweetened tea. As they ate and chatted, Christine noticed many other women as younger as their with same plastic caps on her hair. Most all the customers wore heels or lady-like slippers. Another change of clothes followed lunch. However, before they stepped into the changing booths, an attendant ordered them to bend over and grab their ankles. Christine guessed what was coming and did not like it in the least. The groans of her friends indicated that they did not like it either yet they readily assumed the position. When Faye asked, “Is this necessary today, Miss Sheila?", she responded, “Sorry, girls, but orders from the ones who must be obeyed.”

Christine had never had any sex toy in her derriere and did not wish to try one. She could not see the others from her bent-over position but from the grunts and moans Faye and Charlotte emitted, Christine just knew this was going to be uncomfortable, to say the least. She was third in line and soon felt Miss Julie pull down her panties and apply a generous amount of lubricant to her posterior opening. When she felt the tip of the butt plug beginning to enter, she involuntarily tried to resist.

Julie gently rubbed her bottom. “There, there, Mrs Reston. I know it’s your first time. You are receiving the smallest plug available.” This was true as far as it went. Actually her husband had selected a rather hefty plug for her wife’s first time. Mr. Reston had plans for her increasingly vintage wife. To that it extent, it was “the smallest available” because it was the one approved by her husband. Julie continued, “Don’t resist. That makes it worse. The discomfort will pass in a moment.” Discomfort? Christine felt a pain that made him want to cry but he settled for several deep moans. When the plug finally settled in his rear, Julie added, “That’s a good girl! See, that wasn’t bad, was it, honey?”