The vintage salon
By Robert Towers
Chapter II — A long classic way
With the plug finally settled in her rear, Christine winced at the next set of clothes, which consisted of a black bra, black panties, black open bottom girdle and black slip covered with a bright pink salon robe and pink slippers on his feet. She muttered
to himself that he was looking more and more like her granmother. With the plug in his bottom, the tight girdle and the 1 and ½” heel on the slippers, she walked with a bit of difficulty to her next appointment, which was a mud mask facial and pedicure. she found
herself reclining in a booth next to Jennifer while Faye and Charlotte were in a different booth.
A beautician applied a thick coating of black
cream to her face. Another beautician began her pedicure. “There you
are, Mrs Preston. Relax and enjoy, letting your mud pack work its magic while you have your toes done,” the first beautician said.
Some time later she smelt nail polish and realized that the beautician
was shellacking the tips of his toes with numerous coats of polish. When
finished she stood to leave. “Your pedicure is complete, Mrs Preston.
Just keep still while your polish dries. Enjoy your facial.” She left
the booth.
When Christine was sure that the other beautician had finished Jennifer’s pedicure and also departed, she sat up at bit and looked at her feet. To his utter disgust, her toenails glistened with bright ruby-red polish such as her mother wore. She looked over at Jennifer who had her eyes closed, then looked at her own face in the mirror. The rich black cream on their faces made them look like two society matrons having a mud pack. It was all too terrible. She sighed and reclined her head again.
Another attendant entered the booth. “How are you ladies doing?” she
asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “You have another
hour to lay back with your mud masks on. Aren’t they just the most
luxurious feeling? I’m going to put some cream on your hands awhile.”
Jennifer replied, “Thank you. You know I just love the look and feel of my face after a mud pack.”
When Christine was sure that no attendant was in the booth, she asked some questions to her friend. “Isn’t this whole thing with these painful plugs up our asses going too far?”
“They are our derrieres, Christine, derrieres. And no it’s not too far at all. Relax. Once you get used to wearing one you’ll come to enjoy it. Sure the insertion always stings but that passes. My husband loves I use it and your husband will love too”.
Christine felt downright shocked. One of her best friends actually enjoyed wearing a butt plug like some kind of whore. He tried another question.
“Honestly, Jennifer, don’t you feel ashamed and terribly oldish with this whole thing? I mean, we’re wearing girdles, for Pete’s sake, and mud packs and our toes are polished and our hair tingled under its dam plastic cap and probably before they’re done tormenting us, we’ll be wearing curlers and baking under hair dryers, just like our gradmothers.”
“Oh get off it, Christine. Yes, sure, we are going to have a shampoo and set to finish. We always do. But look at the results. I’ve lost sixteen pounds since I started coming here. When I have to go somewhere important I wear a panty girdle under my dress. I like the way I look and feel with my hair styled and my nails done. My husband loves my classic appearance.
Next week I’m scheduled to have a permanent wave. So is Faye. You thought to try one. After my permanent settles, I’m having my hair dyed gray. I feel more confient and happy when I look a bit mature and classic and my mood is much better. Be patient. You’ll see a difference in yourself, too.”
Christine was speechless. He would have to find a way to talk Ed out of
making her come here. This place was too much. The lives of her old independent friends were being ruined.
Christine was speechless. He would have to find a way to talk Ed out of
making her come here. This place was too much. The lives of her old independent friends were being ruined.
The experience there was strange, intimidating and blowing. Chris was struggling to stay open her eyes at this point. After Sheila puted her conditioner and cap on her hair, she had been in a tired state of mind and uncapable to say no to anything.
She could scarcely understand what they doing with her and how
would look like after the set. She was beside herself wanting to know what was happening when Sheila appeared.
She smiled as she saw the lost expression on her face. “Now that was such a wonderful chat, ladies and not that I want to end your conversation, but those pretty lips need a break while finished with yours.”
Much to Christine’s total dismay, the four women were shampooed and set after receiving their mud packs.
She was particularly alarm for the Salon de Coiffure. A very antique 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 posters with pictures of women’s heads, sporting hairdos from what, the fifties.
Time had stopped here many, many years ago. Her eyes are drawn to bank of stainless-steel torpedo shaped salon dryers. The acrid smell of a perm in process and the sounds of female laughter and busy dryers and the sight of several women around her age tightly in curlers of all sizes, serenely sitting under gleaming dryer helmets reading a magazine while drank her tea or smoked large slim cigarettes, surpriced her eyes. They walked past the line of dryer encased women. Some watched them pass and some paid no attention to them at all. All were young women with classic styles. Behind the dryers were several stations, each with an elegant salon chair in front of a combination wash station and cosmetic vanity with Hollywood make up lights around each mirror. Christine knew at a glance that this place was a journey to the past salon.
“Maybe we sitting under the dryers together. We could even hold hands.” said her Jennifer. She was was beaming, she seemed genuinely excited in anticipation of her up coming moment in the chair, but it did not appear like anything, in this salon seemed strange to her. Like Faye or the others, she seemed happy to be there by her own volition. None the less, in the back of her mind, a thought was trying to form. What is that all about?
Christine had sat in front of the mirror for a few minutes while Sheila attended to some scheduling business at the reception desk. Faye sat down at the station next to Christine and her young permed stylist and her de ella put there heads together, discussing about her style de ella with an old big book with pictures of classic hair styles.
She said something which caused her stylist to turn and look at me. Faye smiled at me and with a rather limp wrist wiggled her fingers at her before she to continued her talk.
Soon, Sheila was behind her chair, looking at her through the mirror.
“Welcome back to your chair Mrs. Reston. Your Husband talked to me last night and suggested that you should sit back and relax while I shampoo you and give you a slight shaping cut. Then we will spend some time giving you a more, shall we say, alluring hair color (Christine´s eyes got very wide) Then after the coloring we will give you a roller set and then some dryer time under those classic machines you walked by and then a brush out and a styling which will make you the most beautiful classic woman in our town. After we see how things go today, we may want to think about perms and other tortures at future appointments”.
At that point Christine had decided to cancel her appointment and try to reach her husband. But, before she could get up out of the chair, Sheila put a litle patch on her arm. “This won’t hurt a bit and it will help calm you down.”
Within seconds, she felt all the tensions of the morning melt away. Christine tried to get up, but Sheila got a quick grasp with both hands on her shoulders. She relaxed in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. She was fully aware and aware of everything around her, but she felt like she was half asleep or something.
Sheila moved her face right in front of her. She was speaking slowly and directly to Christine. She could see her squinty eyes and her lips move. Gradually she heard her words.
“Mrs Reston, just calm down. Everything is all right. Now you just sit still and be good lady.”
Sheila then lifted her from the chair and led her to the rinse station. Christine tried to pull away from her grip but she was very weak. She was unsure on her feet, but Sheila helps her. She steadied her as Christine was still unsteady from the sedative and gently pushed her to the sector where were the rinse basins. The two women walked arm and arm down the street and Audrey made certain that they only took the daintiest of steps.
Soon she letting Christine down gently on a empty rinse station and lowered her head back into the shampoo bowl. Warm water cascaded over her saturated hair with tath strong conditioner and she said her as she ran her gently fingers through her hair and deep into her scalp.
“You are a very gossip lady, Christine. You ask too many inappropriate questions, but you don’t worry. A good dose of my special shampoo will take care of your rebellion and make you an obedient wife, you naughty, naughty little lady!”
Again, Christine tried to resist but the effects of the sedative were making her weak. The shampoo as Sheila said her it was soothing...she could feel herself start to relax... Sheila made small talk while the druggs took effect. Christine’s eyes glazed over and her mouth fell into an easy smile.
Slowly, yawning, her eyelids closing, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, Christine succumbed to the drugs, collapsing in satisfied slumber to the chair.
‘Looks like drugs this time worked,’ Sheila thought. ‘It Induced the trance state, enhanced suggestibility. We only had to increase the shampoo´s mixture to three percent.’
“Ms Reston,” Sheila spoke up to attract the woman’s attention. At the moment Christine´s mind was clearly elsewhere. She didn’t respond immediately to either Sheila´s words, then her eyes her eyes were half open, glassy. She was suddenly very alert and Sheila could pick up the clear signs of arousal. The drugs were working well, Sheila thought to herself. Christine was in no condition to wrestle with her. But she still seemed out of sorts and wasn’t really taking in what Sheila was saying. She knew something was wrong but she didn’t know what. Sheila must calm her. In her state, she would believe anything she told her.
“Ms Reston, you’re feeling a bit confused, disorientated at the moment but don’t worry, I have all the answers you need. You are fine and will be even more. On behalf of a truly wonderful person, who you now love as much as I do, I will make a few changes to you. Improvements. You’ve already noticed that you are more sensitive and I can vouch for how makes sex really fantastic.”
Christine looked relieved, as though a great mystery had been solved. At that point she was feel so submissive and so open to Sheila´s commands. . She was right, everithing was fine to her. Moving around the chair Sheila gave the surprised woman a passionate kiss that did a lot to focus the woman’s attention. Mrs Reston then gave her her full attention. She hardly knew this woman and she felt uncontrollable guilt as she fantasized about his husband will there and fucking her. Then Sheila handed her husband´s perfect wife list and demanding she read in loud voice.
Christine read, “My husband is the most important person in my life and I am not no longer capable of resisting his wants or desires. Submitting to and obeying my husband brings me great happiness and joy. I love cleaning the house, cooking, letting my husband drive the car and making time for him to spend with his friends. I love healthy food and daily exercise because It keep me in great shape. I need to go one a week to the salon for a special styling and beauty treatments. I love to have my hair stylied in a classic way and only feel good when I wear classic makeup so that my husband can be proud of his new trophy husband. I must cheek my hair and makeup every half an hour. I will awaken with no memory of being reading this. I will simply obey whatever I read”
Everithing was fine and it was a great place. Sheila looked at her triumphantly.
“So, we’re going to let that process a bit, gossip lady, and keep your fingers flat,” smiled Sheila as she peeled off her gloves.
“Sure, Sheila. As you wish”, said a sleepy Christine.
“Of course. You, Christine, are all mine now!”