A Permanent Wave With Mummy
It was going to be a special, fun day. I was getting my first permanent in preparation for my sweet sixteen party. I had never been to a salon, although my hair had recently been colored.
Miss Elaine from Femme Fatale had come to the house at the request of Mummy and Lucinda. When Elaine had left I sported really deep, rich brunette locks, tinted with a light auburn highlighting. My ears had also been pierced for a second time.
This, my first salon trip and permanent, would take place at the aforementioned Palace of Perfection, owned by Pamela Fontaine. She had a special section for sissies. Entering a salon for the first time was quite a stirring event.
Being completely immersed in the sights, sounds and scents of women being fully beautified was really grand! The establishment was ultra feminine in both color scheme and decor. The music being played throughout was female and sexy. We were greeted by Madame Pamela herself. Just behind her, standing meekly was her well-trained assistant, the head shampoo sissy, Phoebe.
By now, my ears sported both pearl studs and also a pair of silver hoops. On my feet were three-inch opened-toed black pumps. My stockings were cream colored with opaque patterns. My skirt and jacket were of matching white doeskin and my silk blouse matched my cream heels.
Phoebe took me from Mummy and led me to the rear of the salon, turning me over to one of the very special shampoo sissy trainees that Pamela's was noted for. Each of these special androgynous creatures were there to amuse the ladies and more or less warn the sissy clients of how well off they were being dressed as girls, instead of pure sissy boys.
While Mummy and Lucinda discussed my beauty treatment with Pamela, the excessively effeminate shampoo sissy boy, aptly named "Nelly", washed, conditioned and cream rinsed my reddish brown hair. He had placed a pink cape over my shoulders that covered me to my knees. He lisped, in a babyish voice, when he informed me he would be my attendant for the entire day.
His attire was garish, to say the least. His white tights shimmered. His hot pink leotards, with his printed name tag, Sissy Nelly, matched his ruffled pink tutu. He walked daintily in his white four-inch-heeled pumps. Probably around 21 years old, he gloried in his position as Pamela's assistant trainee for the day. His S shaped earrings also announced his sissy status.
Nelly was heavily perfumed. His eye make up was light but obvious and contrasted with his glistening red lips and nearly clownish red blusher. His champagne blond hair was done in a tight curly perm that he managed to pat and fluff out any time he preened in the mirror. He would also adjust the red satin bow pinned to the side of his hair.
I was very happy when Mummy, Lucinda and Pamela arrived, though not pleased that I was to be "fastened" to the elevated styling chair throughout the remainder of the beautification.
"These chairs were designed for reluctant sissies, Vivian. We realize you're thrilled to be getting a perm and makeover. However, it's fun for me to render my sissy girls helpless during any beauty treatment. It's also a reminder to them that they are completely under my control throughout the whole procedure," Ms. Pamela explained as she attached restraints to my ankles.
Mummy tightened a belt around my waist as my Lucinda made certain my wrists were snugly held in place at the arms of the chair. Nelly had been deemed "much too weak" to get the restraints tight enough.
Then Ms. Pamela checked the rotation, tilting and swiveling of the chair. The drier was on wheels, and the chair would reach the rinsing sink. I wasn't going anywhere for a few hours. I'd even be given a light snack while seated there. "If you want to read a magazine we can loosen your hands slightly. You'll be getting a manicure though, so you may not have time to read," Ms. Pamela offered.
Mummy and Lucinda both kissed me goodbye as they were going to go to the section of the salon reserved for real ladies. In addition to both of them getting trims, Mummy was getting a body wave put in and Lucinda a wet roller set. They both admonished me to "Be a good girl."
As Pamela began my light trim, Nelly prepared the items need to perm my hair.
"You've only a few split ends, Vivian. Your hair is very healthy. It should perm nicely," Pamela offered. Once she finished my trim, she began the very involved and tedious process of giving someone a permanent wave.
Author's Note: If a complete description of getting a permanent wave excites you, then I should warn my readers to read the following passage with a handkerchief in your free hand.
First, she sectioned my hair carefully using a thin pick comb. Nelly was holding a tray full of perm rods of different colors. The largest rods seemed to be the darkest in color. Any attempt on my part to move my head in any direction other then that which Ms. Pamela had placed it in resulted in a stern warning from my hairdresser.
She would return my head to her desired position and say firmly. "Do not move a muscle, Vivian! Continue in this vein and I'll be putting you in my special 'Wriggling Sissy' neck brace and harness!" She wasn't kidding and I knew it. I held still.
Then she proceeded in rolling and wrapping my perm using multiple sized, plastic, wave rods and papers. It appeared to me that the smaller rods were placed in the top and front, medium on the sides and the largest in the back. Also apparent was that waving rods were rolled much more tightly against the scalp than rollers used for setting hair.
The effect was very uncomfortable. "You need not worry Vivian. When you experience the results of this deluxe treatment you'll forget the pain and only recall the pleasure," Ms. Pamela assured me.
Once she was satisfied my roll up was tight enough and complete, she took a cotton wrap, tucked it underneath the rods all the way in back and pulled the whole mass of hair and rollers, up and to the front tying the cotton wrap in a tight knot.
Nelly snipped the end off a plastic bottle of perm solution and Pamela began moving the bottle across each rod and paper section, insuring that each was completely covered. Nelly used a cotton cloth to make certain that none of the solution entered my eyes or stayed on my skin.
Once each section was covered, she moved the bottle around in a circular motion to empty it. My head was now a glistening mass of wet perm solution soaked hair.
There were two things I wasn't ready for. One was the way the solution made the roll up get even tighter! The other was the way the odor from the very smelly perm solution assaulted my nostrils! It's a scent I'll never forget! Even today when I get a perm I recall it just as the beautician begins the application!
In addition, every time I wash my hair for the next few weeks the scent seems to come back. The strange thing is this. Whenever I've made love to either Polly or my Lucinda, and they've just had a perm, the scent on their hair arouses me!
Once my hair follicles were saturated, Nelly rolled the drier over to me and Pamela put an adjustable plastic cap on my head, pulling the drawstring tightly. Unless you've had a perm though, you don't know tight or smelly, until the drier begins to whir on high heat.
The sensation to the scalp and nostrils is absolutely incredible! The aroma of the solution seems to permeate throughout my entire sense of smell, and the rods become so incredibly tight that it feels painfully delicious! I actually love it! On the other hand, I've seen sissies who burst into tears at even the mention of getting a permanent wave.
My fondest recollection of a couple of sobbing sissies was just prior to my wedding. The flower girl and ring girl were to be a couple of recently transformed twin boys about 16 years old. Mummy and I stopped by the house while they were weeping their way through their first home perm! Both their mummy and nanny couldn't keep from giggling and neither could we!
I survived my first perm and many more since then. I love getting one! I love salons! I love the total experience of being permitted in this "inner sanctum" of femininity!
While the drier whirred, both Nelly and Pamela got on either side of me, took off my wrist bindings and began my manicure. My nails had grown quite long and Polly and Ma'amselle had shown me how to keep them filed, clean, and polished.
After soaking my hands in a scented cream, they cleaned my cuticles. After drying my hands, they began the application of a clear polish. Then two coats of a dusky, reddish brown shade by Gina Fabu, called cherry cinnamon. Finally, just about the moment the timer on the drier went off, they applied my clear sealer coat.
Lifting the drier bonnet Ms. Pamela removed my plastic cap, and loosened one rolled up section of hair to check the texture of the curl. She cautioned me to hold my fingers spread and not touch anything as the sealer was very slow drying.
Satisfied the perm had taken, she had Nelly move the drier away and snip the top off a bottle of perm neutralizer. She then rotated the chair, tilted it back and began to rinse my hair in the sink.
Nelly watched smiling before handing Pam the neutralizer. Pamela then saturated my head with this equally smelly chemical and turned to Nelly saying, "Once I begin her comb out you can get out of those silly clothes and go to lunch with Phoebe."
Nelly asked her what he should wear. "Didn't you wear a nice kilt and top set to work this morning? That would be fine," she answered, somewhat perturbed at this sissy's inability to make a very simple decision.
Then she gave him instructions on a lunch time errand she wanted him to run. "Before coming back, I want you to pick me up some strawberry douche, some musk scent vaginal spray and some maxi pads. Don't forget or you'll be in my French poodle sissy house all week," she cautioned the now red-faced sissy.
Pamela looked at her watch and began my second rinse out. Once that was complete she lifted the chair until it was straight up before removing my rods, papers and cotton wrap, handing all the used utensils to Nelly. It was then I saw the faint beginnings of my new "do". Springy, bouncy curls of different sizes, gracing my head, the beginning of my new "crowning glory."
"Oh goodness Vivian you are going to look so lovely! When is your party, a couple of weeks from now? I'll be there early. Elaine from Femme Fatale also. We may be competitors, but we both want to help beautify you. Nelly dear, before you leave. Isn't there something you wanted to ask Vivian?" Pamela looked at the sissy, prompting him.
"Miss Vivian. I would be honored if you would permit me to wait on your guests at your sweet sixteen party. I'll wear anything you want," he said very sweetly.
"I'll have to ask my mother, Nelly. I'm sure it will be okay though," I stated.
Just then, both mother and Lucinda, fully beautified and smelling lovely, came into my private booth and closed the curtain. Lucinda's roller set had left her honey blonde, medium length hair in a darling, bouncy, pageboy. Mother's body wave had given her strawberry colored, chin length bob, a subtle curl and slight wave.
After they confirmed that Nelly could serve at the party, he left for lunch happily, and all three ladies began to discuss my final comb out and make up. During their discussion, yet another sissy attendant, Betsy, brought me plate of diced melon, and a bottle of distilled water.
Lucinda fed me as if I were a child, only allowing me to use my hands for sipping the drink provided.
"Why don't I get Gladys in here for the make up and I'll do the comb out?" Ms. Pam asked.
Everyone agreed and Ms. Pam used her cell phone to call Ms. Gladys, a full-figured matronly type to the private booth. Together they began to prettify me as Mummy and Lucinda looked on proudly. Some really pretty Latin music was playing. A woman was singing a love song in heavily accented English.
The whole "salon experience" was about to not only unfold but culminate for me in a very big way. Unbeknownst to me it had been carefully planned and was about to be executed for my benefit and for everyone else.
As Ms. Pamela began to mousse my head full of curls from behind me, Gladys, off to the side, applied a skin cleanser and then started on my foundation. Mother was seated in a lounge chair reading and Lucinda was refastening my wrist restraints.
It was then I realized there was more to my beauty treatment then I had bargained for. As the two operators cooed to me abut what a lovely girl I had become, Lucinda raised my buttocks by placing a velvet-covered pillow on the salon seat. My doeskin skirt was raised up, and my satiny French cut bikini panties pulled to my knees.
Pamela was now alternating between finger styling my ever so curly hair, and blowing it with a drier. She was making it full and sensuous, occasionally spraying it with heavily perfumed hair spray. When finished she attached a jeweled comb to the side and allowed Gladys to get on with my make up.
Foundation in place, Gladys used a lipstick to blush my cheeks and then blended my eye make up. With a lip liner, she defined the outer edges of my puffed lips. Among the injections, I'd received from Dr. Irene had been collagen shots. I now had the adorable lips of a teenage Lolita.
Then Ms. Gladys stood back and said to Lucinda, "Before I use this tube of Creamy Ginger Matte lipstick by Gina Fabu, could you take care of our darling's little sissy clitoris? It seems to have swollen."
It was true. I was highly aroused and in dire need of sexual release. Here in the salon, though? Yes. In the salon.
Lucinda began a manipulating of my penis as she told me to stare in the mirror and look at the "helpless, beautiful creature" staring back at me. Everything came together. The sights, scents and sounds of this plush, beautiful salon. The lovely, wonderfully perfumed dominant ladies. The sexual stimulation of the full day.
Neither Polly, Abigail nor Ma'amselle had relieved me that morning, so I was ready to explode. As I reached my peak, Lucinda nodded to Gladys, who filled in my lip outline with the creamy reddish brown lipstick. As she stood back, it was all I could take. I screeched, shivered, shook and tingled, to a jerking orgasm, my creamy sissy fluids, splattering on the mirror in front of me.
As the ladies cooed and smiled, Lucinda hugged me. "Ladies I think our princess has had enough for one day. Why don't I release her from her bindings and we'll meet everyone at the salon office shortly," my true love said.
Before we left the room together Lucinda asked me, "You know that you are mine don't you angel?"
"Oh yes Lucinda! I want nothing more then to be your slave!" I exclaimed truthfully.
"Beautiful!" she said. "Let's remember this moment," she added as she propelled me from the booth.
TO BE CONTINUED
Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)