It slightly surprises me now that I was so resistant to shaving my cunt for my Master considering how much I’ve liked the feel of shaved skin over the years. But razors have always been a sign of me being in control not someone else.
When I was fifteen and had hair down to my waist and slightly egged on by my rebellious cousin, I shaved myself a fairly dramatic undercut with a Bic razor which I revelled in seeing if anyone at school would notice under my incredibly thick hair.
The fact they didn’t just encouraged me and over the next twenty odd years I’ve continued to wear my hair in variety of styles that have involved a pair of clippers. Just the thought of getting the back of my head shaved makes me shiver with delight in a non sexual ASMR way. Although there might be something less innocent to enjoying the deep rumbling vibrations of a pair of clippers on my hairline if I cared to delve deeper into my filthy mind.
But the real power with shaving came during an old job when I worked in the cosmetics industry. I ended up working in men’s grooming and the major men’s grooming issue is shaving so my boss taught me how to shave someone’s face.
Once I got past the sheer heart stopping terror that she was teaching me with a cut throat razor on many many packets of balloons and discovered that the person you are shaving actually prefers the relaxation of a safety razor, I absolutely loved it.
There was something incredibly powerful as a woman about teaching a man how to properly do something regarded as so manly. I’d literally be holding their face in my hand, brushing against them, exposing them in a myriad of ways and it was incredibly intimate without necessarily being overtly sexual.
Often it relaxed men into confiding all kinds to me, other times it made them flirt outrageously and sometimes they had to be gently coaxed not to panic and run away from me. All accompanied by the sound and feel of a razor on skin. I loved everything about it from subverting gender norms like k.d Lang and Cindy Crawford in the Nineties to actually giving useful skincare advice.
But I especially loved the power and dominance of the act. I worked a lot with city boys and investment bankers and the kind of men who are used to telling women (especially lower status ones) what to do and enjoying that sense of entitlement.
Those men act very very differently when you’ve got a razor pressed against the taut skin of their neck and that’s a dizzying sensation for twenty five year old who usually likes submission. Especially doing this in their workplace, not like the times I’d also wet shaved my boyfriend’s head several times.
So the idea of using a razor to submit rather than be in charge confused me when my Master gave me the order to shave my cunt. Maybe I’d have got my head round it quicker if he’d suggested doing it for me like this incredible piece on shaving your sub’s cunt…