Chapter 4: Spa Secrets
Leena and I stepped into the resort’s spa. Dim amber lights cast a sultry glow. Jasmine-scented air enveloped us. Soft traditional music eased my aching muscles. A poised receptionist in a crisp silk uniform greeted us with a warm smile.
“Ladies’ section is this way. Male massages are separate,” she said. She led us to the booking desk. “Two adjacent rooms are available. They’re soundproof and gadget-free for total relaxation. Please hand over your mobiles. They’re not allowed inside.”
I glanced at Leena. Her raised brow mirrored my intrigue. We surrendered our phones. I squeezed her hand and whispered.
“Have a nice time, bodyguard.”
She grinned, eyes sparkling.
“Don’t get too wild, Maya,” she teased. She headed to her room.
I entered mine. The door closed with a soft thud. It sealed me in a world of forbidden promise.
A petite Thai beauty awaited. Her dark hair was swept into a sleek bun. Her smile was warm yet wild.
“I’m Isara, Ma’am,” she said. Her accent was lilting. She gestured to a plush massage bed, silicone-lined and gleaming under soft light. “Please remove your dress and wear this massage robe, Ma’am. You can keep your bra and panties on.”
I nodded, stepping behind a bamboo screen. I wore a sheer lavender crop top, its low-cut neckline teasing my curves, paired with free-size track pants, loose and slung low on my hips. I slipped them off, keeping my pink bra and panties, and tied the soft robe around me. Its fabric felt light against my skin. I returned and lay on my back as Isara instructed.
“Let’s start with your face, Ma’am,” she said, her voice a velvet command. She poured cool herbal oil onto her palms and massaged my forehead, temples, and cheeks. Her fingers glided in slow circles, easing tension. My skin tingled, a soft sigh escaping. She moved to my hands, kneading my palms and stretching each finger. Her touch was firm yet soothing, warming my skin.
“Now relax, Ma’am,” she murmured, untying the robe’s knots. She parted the fabric and slid it off, leaving me in my bra and panties. She placed a soft towel over my pubic area, its edges barely covering my hips. Her hands massaged my shoulders and collarbone, avoiding the bra, then worked down my arms and sides. The oil’s jasmine scent filled the air, and her touch sparked a quiet warmth in my core.
“You’re so gentle, Isara,” I said, feeling at ease. “What’s your name mean? Where’re you from?”
“I’m from Thailand, Ma’am,” she began, her hands pausing briefly. “Isara means freedom. My parents sold me to a gang due to poverty. An NGO rescued me. I trained in massage and worked in spas across Singapore, Sri Lanka, and India. My teens were a struggle, but I’m here now.” She glossed over the shadows in her story. I didn’t pry, moved by her resilience. Her fingers resumed, kneading my upper chest with care.
I felt comfortable with her, her openness disarming me. “You’re strong, Isara,” I said softly.
She smiled, eyes warm. “Thank you, Ma’am. Now, please remove your bra. Here’s a herbal sheet to cover your breasts.” She handed me a thin, translucent sheet, large enough to drape over my chest. I sat up, unclasped my bra, and set it aside. Lying back, I placed the sheet over my breasts, its cool fabric brushing my skin.
Isara poured herbal oil onto the sheet. The liquid soaked through, turning it transparent and sticky, clinging to my curves. My dark brown nipples showed clearly, taut under the golden light. “This keeps your breasts supple and soft, Ma’am,” she explained. “The herbs improve blood flow and relax the muscles. We’ll leave it for ten minutes.” A cooling sensation spread across my chest, like mint or eucalyptus, soothing and invigorating. I sighed, sinking deeper into the bed.
She stepped back, letting the herbs take effect. The cooling tingle intensified, my breasts feeling light and alive. Isara returned, pouring warm oil over my navel. Her thumbs circled the dip, pressing gently. My belly quivered, a soft moan escaping. She kneaded my waist and lower abdomen, her hands gliding over the flesh above my hips. My breath hitched, a quiet ache building.
“May I remove your panties, Ma’am?” she asked, her voice gentle. “The towel will cover you.”
I nodded, trusting her. She slid my panties down my thighs and off, adjusting the towel to barely cover my pubic area. I was now nude except for the towel and the transparent herbal sheet on my breasts. Isara poured oil over my feet, massaging each toe with care. Her thumbs pressed into my arches, sending tingles through my legs. She moved to my calves, squeezing the muscles, then my thighs, her fingers kneading the outer flesh. Her hands grazed my inner thighs, stopping just short of the towel. A warm flush spread through me.
She massaged my lower abdomen, her fingers tracing the curve below my navel. Dense pubic hair peeked from under the towel’s edge, dark and coarse. The towel clung tightly, barely covering my pussy.
Isara stepped back. “The sheet on your breasts is ready, Ma’am,” she said.
I was clueless, lost in the sensations. Isara cupped the sheet over my breasts, and it crumbled into a fine herbal paste, mixed with the oil. She kneaded the paste around my nipples in slow, circular motions, her fingers firm yet sensual. My nipples stiffened, aching under her touch. This feels too good, I thought. She wiped the paste with a soft silicone spatula, then applied it directly to my nipples and areolas, its cool texture tingling. “This stays for five minutes, Ma’am,” she said. My breasts burned with pleasure, my body aroused, as if intoxicated by herbal wine. My pussy pulsed once, a quiet throb. This is pure fire, I thought.
“Now, Ma’am, I am going to massage your back ma’am, to keep the paste from sticking to the table, please lean on your elbows and arch your back up on your knees,” Isara said, her voice soft yet guiding. I shifted into a doggy pose, my elbows supporting my weight, knees pressed into the bed, and back arched. My breasts, coated with the herbal paste, dangled freely in the air, swaying slightly with each breath. The cool air teased my nipples, still tingling from the paste, and a flush of heat spread through my chest. I felt exposed, yet the position gave me a thrill.
Isara poured warm jasmine oil over my bare bum cheeks, the liquid gliding down my curves, slick and inviting. Her hands cupped the mounds, kneading with slow, rhythmic strokes, her fingers firm yet tender. My breath quickened, skin flushing with warmth. At times, her fingers dipped slightly into my asshole, a fleeting, teasing intrusion that sent sparks up my spine. I tightened my pelvic muscles instinctively, a jolt of sensation rippling through me. My bum arched higher, craving the oily caress, as her hands worked deeper, igniting every nerve.
She moved to my back, drizzling more oil over my shoulder blades. Her palms pressed firmly, kneading the tight muscles sore from the bull ride. Her fingers dug into the knots, unraveling each one with precision. The discomfort melted away completely, leaving my shoulders loose, light, and tingling with relief. A soft sigh escaped as my body relaxed into the rhythm of her touch.
Returning to my dangling breasts, Isara’s hands slid beneath me, her fingers wrapping around them like milking a cow. She massaged with gentle, pulling strokes, wiping the herbal paste downward, cumulating it onto my nipples and areolas. The paste thickened, forming a cool, tingling “nipple pastal” that clung to the sensitive peaks. My breasts quivered, aching with pleasure as her fingers tugged softly, the sensation sharp and electric. A shiver ran through me, my body alive with the intimate touch.
“Now, please lie on your back, Ma’am,” Isara murmured, her voice steady. I eased down, the bed cool against my skin. She gently placed the soft towel over my pubic area again, its edges barely covering my hips. The familiar coverage grounded me, yet my body hummed with the lingering heat of her touch.
Isara massaged my sides and underarms, her fingers tickling my skin. I giggled, squirming. “The room is soundproof, Ma’am,” she said, smiling. “Laugh as loud as you want.” I let out a hearty laugh, the freedom exhilarating.
She applied a smooth paste to my face. “Close your eyes, Ma’am,” she instructed. She placed cucumber slices over my eyelids, covering them with more paste. “Keep them closed.” The cool paste soothed my skin, and I sank into darkness, senses heightened.
Warm oil filled my deep navel, Isara’s hands working sensually, spreading the liquid around the dip and toward my pubic mound. I felt the towel lift, cool air hitting my exposed pussy. Oil poured liberally over it, sliding into my folds and trickling to my butt hole. “You’re very hairy, Ma’am,” Isara said softly. She used a soft comb to part my pubic hair to the sides, clearing the way for the massage. “Such a large clit,” she murmured, her voice reverent. “A rare beauty.”
Her oily fingers separated my pussy lips, gently massaging the folds. My body trembled, a moan escaping—Ohhh… mmm… Touch me there, I thought. She rubbed around my clit with slow strokes, then massaged my pussy with both hands in tandem. In a trance, I spread my legs in a V-shape, giving her better access. My hips bucked slightly, pleasure surging. My pussy quivered under her skilled hands. I’m already electrified, I thought.
Isara moved one hand to my breasts, massaging my nipples with the special paste, alternating with her pussy massage. My body quivered, moans louder—Mmm… ahhh… She wiped the paste off my nipples, leaving them clean and sensitive. The pause in touching made me restless—I wanted to see what was happening.
Her fingers spread my pussy lips wider. “I think you are not a virgin, Ma’am,” she said, studying my pussy.
I smiled, voice husky. “I am still a virgin to a cock,” I teased, hinting at my familiarity with masturbation.
“Shall I do an intimate massage, Ma’am?” Isara asked.
“What about all the stuff you’ve done so far?” I replied, curious.
“The final massage is pending, Ma’am,” she said. “May I complete it?”
“Do it,” I urged, breathless.
She applied cool aloe vera jelly to my vagina. Her finger slipped inside, slow and deliberate. I shivered, a jolt running through me. Isara moved to my side, one hand fingering my G-spot, the other caressing my breasts. I couldn’t control myself and grabbed her hips under her T-shirt. She allowed it, her body yielding.
I turned to my side, the cucumber slices falling away. My eyes opened, catching Isara’s arousal in her flushed cheeks, though she tried to hide it. Her small, firm breasts pressed against her T-shirt, nipples hard. I lifted her shirt and bra, revealing her pink nipples, inviting and taut.
“How old are you, girl?” I asked, breathless. My fingers grazed her nipples, teasing them to peaks.
“Twenty, Ma’am,” she replied, her fingers still dancing in my pussy, each thrust deliberate.
“Your boobs are like an early teenager’s,” I said. I leaned forward, my mouth finding her left nipple. The pink bud was hard under my lips. I sucked, my tongue swirling the sensitive peak, tasting the faint salt of her skin. Isara gasped, her breath hitching. Her free hand trembled near my shoulder, unsure whether to push or pull.
My hands cupped her other breast, kneading the soft flesh. My thumbs circled her nipples in rhythm with her fingers inside me. Each time she plunged deeper, curling to stroke my G-spot, I pinched her nipples gently. They stiffened, her breasts quivering, flushing pink. Her arousal fed mine. I sucked her right nipple harder, my teeth grazing it lightly. She moaned softly. Our bodies moved in sync. Her fingers fucked my pussy with urgency. My mouth and hands devoured her breasts. My hips bucked. Her chest arched into my touch.
I pulled back my wet lips from her nipples, as saliva drooled from it. I captured her rosy lips in a kiss. My tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her warmth. I squeezed her breasts tighter, their soft flesh yielding. Her resistance melted. Her tongue met mine, eager now. Her fingers quickened, stroking my pussy’s depths. My juices coated her hand. My clit pulsed against her thumb’s pressure. I moaned into her mouth—Fuck… mmm… My hands pinched both nipples, tugging gently. She whimpered, her breasts trembling. Our bodies pulsed, my pussy clenching, her nipples hardening. A shared crescendo built, electric and unstoppable.
I wasn’t a lesbian. But my mind swirled with Isara’s touch. Her fingers lingered in my pussy, her breasts trembling under my hands. This was a craving I couldn’t name.
A reckless curiosity seized me. Without a second thought, I slipped my hand into her pants, brushing past the elastic waistband. She removed her finger from my pussy and tried to stop my hand, holding it tight, but it glided through coarse pubic hair. Then—a shocker. My fingertips grazed something hard and warm. It was unmistakably male: a cock. A pulsing shaft, rigid and smooth. Below, I felt the weight of balls, tight and heavy in a soft sac. I froze. My breath caught. My mind reeled.
Doubt surged. I didn’t withdraw, driven to understand. My trembling fingers wrapped gently around the five-inch shaft. Its veins were subtly raised. I cupped the balls, their firm weight filling my palm. I rolled them softly, feeling their warmth. My eyes locked with Isara’s. Her shock mirrored mine. Her pupils were wide, panic flashing across her face. Her lips parted silently. My cheeks flushed with confusion and fascination. My pussy tingled, layered with this electrifying discovery.
I stepped off the massage table, my bare feet touching the cool floor. The air felt charged. Isara dropped to her knees, clutching my foot. Her voice broke.
“Ma’am, please don’t tell the management. They would jail me if they found out. I’m a boy by birth, but a girl inside, like you. I’m saving for sex reassignment surgery. I’ve done everything to live as a woman. I didn’t expect you to touch me there. I beg you, Ma’am, for my life.”
Pity flooded me. My shock softened. I grabbed a plush robe from the spa’s rack and wrapped it around my body. The soft fabric was a shield. I left my clothes behind.
“Isara, you’re a true professional. You’ve been through hell,” I said. My voice was steady. “I won’t tell anyone, Ma’am’s promise. Be careful. Don’t let others advance like I did. Not everyone’s as understanding.”
I tapped her shoulder, steadying her. She nodded, eyes glistening.
“I only take female clients, Ma’am,” she said. “You’re like a damsel. An angel. I couldn’t resist you, Ma’am.”
I blushed, warmth spreading at her words.
“What’s your real name?” I asked softly.
“Somsak, Ma’am,” she whispered. Her birth name was a quiet confession.
She stood, composing herself. Our secret was sealed. Curiosity lingered.
“What’s next, Somsak?” I asked. My voice was edged with anticipation.
Somsak hesitated, fearing he’d overstep.
“A hot bath, Ma’am. Or you can have one alone,” he said quickly. “Then an aromatic smoke therapy for your hair. You can leave after, Ma’am.”
“Do it then,” I said. A daring spark ignited.
I let the robe fall, my nude body bared once more. A thrill surged through me, knowing Somsak was still partially male—a shemale, the first I’d ever seen. My curiosity burned, eager to witness this unique blend of identities. His eyes widened. The female in him nodded, professional yet stirred.
“You should be naked too,” I said, locking eyes. My voice was a sultry challenge.
His shock was palpable. His lips parted. My gaze held firm. He peeled off the T-shirt, bra, and pants. An exotic blend was revealed: small, firm breasts with pink nipples gleamed above a pink, five-inch cock. Its balls were tight, a living sculpture of wild imagination. I’d never seen anything like Isara and Somsak—half-female, half-male. The sight sent a shiver through my body. Fascination outweighed shyness.
We moved to a bathroom chamber in the room. Steam warmed the air. A tub awaited. Somsak began the sponge bath. Lukewarm water cascaded over my skin, soothing and slick. He sponged my shoulders, then my back, tracing my curves with care. His hands were cautious near my pussy. I guided his hand.
“Go ahead, Ma’am’s orders,” I urged.
He cleaned the oil from my folds, his touch precise yet trembling. His fingers grazed my labia, sending jolts through me. My clit pulsed. I watched his cock stiffen, its pink hue glistening. His balls were taut with tension. A reckless impulse seized me. I reached out and grasped it gently, stroking softly.
“Ma’am—” he gasped, resisting.
“You touched me,” I countered, voice low and teasing. “Why can’t I? Feel it while you’re still a man down there, Somsak.”
I stroked faster. His resistance crumbled. Within moments, he shuddered. Cum spewed onto his own breasts, white and thick. I washed my hands, unfazed. He caught his breath, cleaning his cock and breasts with a shy flush.
“You’re wild, Ma’am,” he said. A shiver was in his voice.
I smirked and dried myself with a towel.
“Alright, Somsak,” I said, addressing him as male. My tone was firm but kind. “Let’s do the hair therapy. Stay as you are.”
He blinked, surprised, but obeyed, remaining nude. We returned to the massage room. Somsak paused to replace the oily bed sheet with a fresh one, the crisp fabric smoothing over the table. “Your clothes were sent to your room after laundry, Ma’am,” he said, his voice soft. “They’ll be ready when you return.”
I nodded, appreciating the care. I lay back on the clean silicone bed, still naked. The surface was cool against my skin. Somsak lit a small burner. Aromatic smoke curled from herbs, filling the air with a sweet, calming scent. He leaned over, combing the smoke through my hair with careful fingers. The ritual was soothing yet intimate. My scalp tingled as the smoke wove its magic. Our nudity felt like a strange equality. My body was relaxed yet alive with the day’s bold explorations.
I wrapped the robe around me again. The air was thick with our shared secret. I walked out, body glistening, mind alight. I was relieved and rejuvenated. A spark of sexual exploration burned brighter—planned or not. Leena waited outside, her own glow hinting at an intense massage. We shared a knowing look. No words were needed. We headed back. The Lonavala weekend pulsed with possibilities.
What’s next, Maya? I was hungry for more.
